Post-Op & Re-Admission

As the title suggests, I'm back in hospital, but let me back up a little as it's been a busy week. I had my surgery last Wednesday. It was a full day of hanging around, freezing (room was so cold!) and waiting, and finally I went down to theatre at around 3.45pm. As ever, the anaesthesia was brilliant and I was howling with laughter in theatre before I was out of it. Class. I woke up in recovery at about 5.45pm and was brought up to my room about an hour later. I was starving, and desperate for a drink but they wouldn't let me have anything for another two hours. But I managed to call Iain, send a few texts and speak to the surgeon who told me that he was really happy with how things had gone. He said that it had been a "very big hernia" and that I'd definitely made the right decision to proceed with the surgery. He wanted to keep an eye on me though so it was going to be Friday before I'd be getting home. I was a bit frustrated at this especially as I was already up and walking that night, unassisted to go to the toilet. Anyway, I spent the next 36 hours pretty much confined to my room with no visitors due to covid, with a trifecta of blogging, reading and social media-ing to keep me from going mental. I did manage to get up quite a few times and do some laps of the ward so by the time Friday morning rolled round, I was ready to get home. 

The next few days were quite uneventful. I gradually found my feet at home, feeling the wrath of Iain if I was doing too much, and roping in William to help out when Iain wasn't around. To be fair, Iain was barely at work at all over the weekend despite a match on Sunday. Karen and Paddy were in on Saturday afternoon, and Claire and Courtney came round to visit me on Sunday morning and brought some lovely flowers. Even though I was up and about, Iain was still doing the school runs as I didn't want to overdo things. Tuesday was tough though as there was a national strike on and William was home all day with me which I found exhausting. Oddly, I was even more tired yesterday and spent quite a bit of time just dozing on the couch which really isn't like me. I just thought it was the usual recovery time catching up on me. But then I went to my GP this morning to get my stitches out. 

Firstly, I wasn't happy that he said I didn't need physio. He said I was young, and fit, so walking and regular exercise would be sufficient. Madness. I told him that my specialist said "your Kine will become your best friend after the surgery" as it was essential to follow a good rehab programme but he was having none of it. Secondly, you can imagine my anxiety when I said I also needed my stitches out and he then started banging on about how he wasn't happy with the wound and how I needed to let me surgeon see it asap. He tried calling but couldn't get through so wrote me an urgent referral letter. Karen had taken me to the Docs and wasn't doing anything the rest of the day so suggested we could just go up to the hospital and chance it. Turns out, Dr Cabal is away on holiday for two weeks. Aaaaargh. I spoke to another receptionist in neurosurgery and she said she would pass the referral on to someone else but that it would probably be tomorrow before I could see someone. We were just getting back in the car when she called me and told me to come straight back in. As we were walking back through the car park, I half jokingly said to Karen, "I bet I get re-admitted". She laughed "yeah right", but I knew better. I didn't wait long and the guy I saw, Dr Xavier Hoarau took one look at it and said, "yeah, it's not good.". His english was excellent and he explained to me that it was healing properly: that it was overlapping rather than sitting side by side; it was bulging and he thought there was some build up of fluid underneath the skin; how I needed a scan for him to be sure; and that regardless of the results I needed more surgery to fix it. He also asked if I'd had a fever (no) so definitely working along the lines of an infection. So that's it, I went home, packed a bag, Iain collected William from school and they brought me back up. I was really sad leaving them at the entrance to the ward (they couldn't come in due to Covid). I felt scared, and I felt rubbish for William. He's just had to watch me crawl around the house in so much pain recently and I've just not been much fun for him. He actually said, "I'm just so bored with going to Doctors and hospitals". Wee soul. :-( 

I'm two doors down from my last room and I'm just back into the flow of it all again. The nurses recognised me straight away and were incredulous. The anaesthetist came in to see me immediately after I'd been admitted and said that yeah, it was a suspected infection and it was a case of identifying how deep it was. He is pleased I'm not on any antibiotics yet as he needs to see things fresh but says that it might be Monday or Tuesday before I get home as he needs to wait for lab cultures to treat whatever is going on. However, the Doc was also in and he says that we'll know more after the scan and the fact I've not had a fever, or serious pain is certainly a good thing. One thing's for sure, I never do things by halves. God sake. 

More to follow, as and when. 

Lorna.