So yesterday I had a Hemithyroidectomy (they cut out half my thyroid) due to it being highly suspicious of cancerous cells.
I came round feeling groggier than I ever have from a general anaesthetic. I couldn’t see properly. In fact all I could see was a shaky blur. I drifted in and out of consciousness for a while, relaxed and aware that there was a very kind man watching over me. When I could speak, I told him I was having trouble seeing. He called a doctor and every now and then, shone a torch in my eyes. This reminded me of holby city, so I pointed out that I was indeed still alive and he smiled. It took me a few hours to come round and a fair few shots of morphine to get me comfortable. The recovery nurse was wonderful, he couldn’t do enough for me. Eventually I moved back up to the ward sometime around 1pm (I went into theatre at 9am). My vision was still blurry and I had the shakes. They moved me to a better bed and I let out the biggest and most forced, yet uncontrolled burp of my life. As soon as I did, the F2 doctor sitting with me noticed ny neck beginning to swell and fetched one of my surgeons. I then vomitted and blood started dripping from my neck. The burp had torn something inside and I was rushed back down to theatre.
I was relieved to have the exact same surgical team and went back in for a second general anaesthetic. This time with no tears and no panicking. I didn’t really need the sedation because I was still sedated from the last time, but they gave it again anyway. Then another full anaesthetic. I came round with much better vision but more pain. My same recovert nurse grinning from ear to ear. I asked him why he was so happy. He said “nobody has ever requested me as their recovery nurse before”. I made his day and that made me feel like a good person. The poor guy had missed his lunch break to sit with me for a second time.
I went back to the ward just in time for visiting hours so I got to see Jonny, bunny and my mum. I was pleased but I wasn’t me. I spent the night in a lot of pain as they only gave me paracetamol. I filled a cardboard hat with vomit and got put back on a drip. i didnt sleep for paranoia of more internal bleeding. I ended up babysitting two other patients who were much older than me. One was 92 and kept getting stuck in the railings of her bed in attempt to “get home”. The other who talked incessantly as she was lonely. Talking hurt like hell but I didnt like the thought of her being unhappy so I went along with it.
I was bedbound until this morning as I was too shaky to stand and my blood pressure so low it set off alarms. Eventually I persuaded them to give me Tramadol instead of morphine and now the pain is bearable. I’m having to stay in an extra night as I just haven’t recovered enough to go home yet. At lunchtime though, I managed to keep down what little food i could swallow.
I really appreciate all the support from friends, family, bloggers, Facebook and Twitter. Your kind words and wishes mean a lot to me.
Much love to you all and my sincere apologies for the grammar in this post. I’m writing it on a mobile phone, in a tramadol induced state, from my hospital bed! And for those of you who aren’t squeamish… Here’s a pic of me post surgery..
Look away if you don’t like gory pics….