Den (dewhitton) wrote,

In which our hero has a big adventure and is unconscious for most of it

The instructions were "No food of drink after midnight, Sunday." I drank water like mad all day Sunday to make up for the day without fluid, and by Sunday night I was pissing for Australia at the Olympics. Woke at 6am Monday, had a long, hot shower, then spent an hour desperately wanting a cup of tea and some toast and vegemite. Mum turned up and took me to the hospital and By 7.45 I was checked in and signing forms. I was weighed - 97kg - and had blood pressure taken - 124/68 - and the O2 saturation measured - 99%. The nurse couldn't tell me how the O2 was measured without actually getting into the veins, "And yet we trust it!" she added cheerfully. She asked be a bunch of questions and ticked off the boxes, then Dr.S. the Anaesthetist arrived and asked me the same questions and ticked off a different form.

Finally it was time to get ready. I undressed and put on the odd hospital gown that opened at the back. Since it was a bit chilly they let me keep my undies and sock on. Even so, I needed two blankets on me to keep me warm while I waited on the bed. Finally is was my turn.

The nurses wheeled me along the corridors to the theatre. Helpful staff held the doors open as we passed. "Don't you have any of those double doors to crash through, like they do on telly?" I asked.

"Good grief, no!" said the nurse. "Our doors are solid! You'd get concussion."

Finally I was in the theatre and Dr S was putting a tourniquet on. I told him the sisters at the medical centre have trouble finding veins. He flicked at my elbow, then at the back of my hand, the at the elbow again and pressed in a few times, then at the back of my hand again and pressed a spot for a while. Then the elbow agai, and again the back of my hand. Finally he got a needle in. "I hit a vein first go! But I'll have to charge you more for making me work harder," he said as he attached a drip.


Dr F the surgeon turned up and explained what I could expect afterwards. He warned my I'd have concave places on my chest, "As though I'd taken some divots out with my golf clubs." He'd already warned me of this when I first met him so I wasn't surprised.

Finally Dr S said it was time to "go away with the fairies." My head started to spin, I said "whoa! Here it goes," ...

And I woke with a mask on my face and a burning feeling across my chest. A nurse took my blood pressure again - 125/71 - and asked if it hurt on a scale of 1 to 10. I told her it was about 5 or 6, and she got me some pain killers. One asked what I wanted for lunch.

"Curried pie."

"Erm... no. How about a corned beef sandwich?"

"And tea?"

"And tea!"

So I was wheeled out of Recovery and into the waiting area, and was handed a corned beef sandwich on really fresh bread and a really hot cup of tea. I started to feel much better and improved after a second cup of tea.

Dr F turned up while I was getting dressed and asked how I felt. I told him I felt like he'd beaten me with his golf clubs. "I'm a crap golfer, always taking divots," he said. Then he told me they sent everything to pathology for testing as a precaution but there didn't seem to be anything that looked serious or worrying. He did say that when they cut the ducts on my leaky nipple, stuff came out all over the place and made a mess. We talked some more then he sent me off with a prescription for Panadol Forte - 500mg paracetamol + 30mg codeine. I'm taking 2 every 4 hours, so pain isn't a problem.

There are two drains running to bags that have to be emptied periodically. I'm seeing Dr F tomorrow to have them out.

So here I am at home. Wrapped in an elastic corset-type bandage to minimise bruising, sipping a hot tea sweetened with honey and getting off my face of codeine.
Tags: hospital, injury/illness

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