Health knowledge made personal
Join this community!
› Share page:
Search posts:

The days post NeoBladder Surgery

Posted Nov 19 2009 10:08pm
The surgery Continues.
Over the next few days recovery happened. It wasn't a nice holiday in France type thing, but if Hannibal Lector was around it would be a similar experience I suppose. You know that bit of the movie where he attempts surgery without anaesthetic on the balcony, well the similarities were freakishly similar.
It felt at times that Jack sparrow was having it out with Davy Jones, while Edward Scissor hands feverishly lent some steel to my abdomen. Firstly My leg was well paralysed (nice). The next thing I had a Neurosurgeon gracing my presence. He swooped in unannounced to jab and poke an prod. Um yup no reflexes. 

Later that night I got to go on a nice little trolley ride up to have a M.R.I scan, Forget the pain and the tubes, I hate M.R.I scanners. Claustrophobia central.

The drugs had also run out in my P.C.A. So I writhed a bit like a trumpet player with an anal fissure at a concert. They loaded my train wreck body into the scanner, handed me my little (now replenished P.C.A) button to push, fixed the 02 nasal cannula in my nose and told me to lie still. So I did. With my eyes closed, thanking god for the oxygen bestowed upon me. It gave me a feeling of breathing. Every now and then they would pull me back out and tell me to push the P.C.A button.

I begged them needlessly to let me out, but I don't think they understood the ketamine/fentanyl garbage I mumbled at them. Because they would just shove me back into that blasted tunnel. It must have sounded like 'pblrse um er geb me um rout of thib'.

Looking back at my incoherent videos it must have. Later on back in my room, which I didn't realise was my room, the registrar called D swanned on in with a nurse. She was lovely, he wasn't. He was to cut out the stitch in my surgical drain an move it round a bit before sewing it back in, explanation.....'It doesn't appear to be draining properly' I screamed as it hurt. It felt like someone dragging barbed wire across my rectum. In fact I found out the next day he was. 
What a nice chappy.
I developed an immediate fear Of D. I was told that as well as the d rain not in the right place it was in fact in the rectal area, and pressing on a spinal nerve, possibly causing the paralyses in my right leg. Whatever.
It was actually paralysed before surgery but go figure. Because of my wonderfully numb leg I was acquainted with a zimmer frame. Which became a good friend for a wee while. It carried my two catheter bags, and my arms when they got tired.:) Back to Jack Sparrow now though and his masochists crew.

The pain in my belly gradually worsened, I started to look very pregnant over a four day period, and well then I started vomiting. Welcome bowel obstruction.
The lovely nurses (they were, no sarcasm) offered me a nasal gastric tube as an entrée, an anti emetic as the main.
Nope not happening. Hello green pooh smelling vomit, continuously with a heaving dissected abdomen, an facing a lovely large tube up my nose while my body was rejecting even air. No thanks. Every time the nurse mentioned N.G tube I vomited, I tried to tell her in between breaths not to mention it, but she so kindly did. She was trying to help, it most likely would have helped retrospectively. 
No one can come near my nasopharaynx, or oropharynx with tubes without copious supplies of sedation. Period, final. So I suffered. I was told by my Surgeon that I should eat. That she assumed I had an ilieus(bowel gone nighty night), and the new fangled approach was to make patients eat.

That was successful, NOT. That led to more Vomiting, Distension, Nausea, and an incredible amount of weight loss. So I ended up on T.P.N. (total parental nutrition)
All through this my bowels also had to be remedied. So I was receiving oral, and rectal laxatives. Oh joy to the world. 

My darling friend Fi (who Is also a medical person) delightfully decided one day, after a failed attempt on my zimmer frame for a walk due to laxatives an cramps.
That she thought taking pictures of me on the commode in my room, may be beneficial in some kind of photo journal way. That's where I put my foot down (the other one hung aimlessly). Nope no commode, faecal obstruction, picture shots. Isn't that's what friends are for?Sphere: Related Content
Post a comment
Write a comment:

Related Searches