A nurse brings me my final hot drink just before 6am. Moaning Minnie is in full throttle by then. I lie in bed just waiting for 1pm. Even reading makes me feel nauseous since I am not allowed food. The porters arrive promptly and Dr H in Radiology goes through it all with me. He is not sure that it will work, but he plans to remove the T- tube and to try to reroute the other drain straight into my gut. They will then be able to ‘tap’ it on or off as necessary. I explain the pain that the drain under my rib has caused me since it was put in. He will try to re-position it. Unfortunately there is another 20 minutes to wait since the room is still being used. I suddenly feel sick again and reach for a sick bowl that is just within my grasp on the shelf. I retch for about 5 minutes. They give me an anti sickness injection and then I am taken into room 15. There they rip off the old dressing before giving me the sedative.. My sobs of pain alert them to this mistake, which they rectify very quickly. I am aware of the whole procedure which lasts about three hours, but the sleepiness usefully blocks out most of the discomfort. When I open my eyes again I am back on the ward, Chris is there (he has been waiting since 3pm) and Moaning Minnie has a very captive and stressed audience of nurses and patients. Later in the night one of the patients yells: “Shut up”. It works for at least half an hour!
I still am unsure what they have done to me and am unlikely to find out before the doctors do their rounds on Monday. The new drain bag is so full by morning that it looks ready to explode. I call the nurse, but she is one of those people who simply repeats the last word of every sentence you say:
ME: This bag needs emptying
NURSE: (with beaming smile) emptying
ME: It looks like it is about to explode
NURSE: (nodding and smiling) Explode
ME: Is there any reason why it should fill up so quickly?
NURSE: Quickly
I give up and wait until I speak to Prof P. He comes round to see me early Monday morning and explains what has been done. He tells me the outcome of the procedure is as good as they might have hoped and now the drain is tapped the bag can be removed. The drain will need flushing twice a day, which can be done at home (they will supply syringes). He tells me I can go home as soon as they sort out my medication. Wonderful. In about 8 weeks time they are planning to put a stent in to stop any further narrowing of the vein. It should be a straightforward procedure and I am hoping it won’t mean a longer spell in hospital.
Each time I have had visitors or seen neighbours and friends outside the hospital they have told me how much better I look than last time they saw me. Trouble is the last time they saw me they told me how good I looked. I am not quite sure what to make of this data. Either I am genuinely looking better which I know I’m not, or they are telling ‘porkies’ (for my readers across the Atlantic that is rhyming slang for a lie : Pork Pie = lie).
To those friends who have rallied round in my hours of need:
Thanks so much.
Friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.
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