"This was, for me, a big day"
The ambulance came for me early in the morning on the 5th of January. This was, for me, a big day. The ileostomy reversal.
Both my wife and I had been thrown into the life of care with this medical solution to the tear in my bowel and, to be rid of it after almost a year, was a blessing. We imagined restful nights, not having to wake up every two hours, not having to spend many a day weary from the previous night. The thought of that alone was shear bliss.
I was taken into the admission ward and checked in with all the usual checklists and questions, meetings from the anesthetist and the surgeons team. I was first on the operations roster and was taken down to theatre at 8:30am.
" .. placed over your face like a plastic parasite .."
Even now, going to the operating theatre is a bizarre experience for me, even for the amount of operations I have had to date. By my count, I had had 18 operations with the 17th being my knee reconstruction, so I was getting rather used to the procedures involved. When the breathing mask is placed over your face like a plastic parasite, it is then that the time in that side room is short for your waking conciousness. Breathing in the 'air' they give you, you rapidly come to the conclusion (as the feeling starts to go from your limbs) that the descent into arranged sleep will be quick. My only advice I can give to those seeking solace from this blog if they have a pending surgical procedure and are nervous is, simply, don't be. Breathe deeply and you will come out the other side. Faith and trust is key. Belief that you will awaken in the recovery room, the procedure all completed, helps to cope with the experience.
After a few deep, lung filling breaths, the familiar feeling of inky sleep flooded over me. I slowly awoke, an indeterminable time later, hearing the noise of movement and voices reading paperwork. Forcing my eyes open, I recognised the recovery room and a nurse looking at me with a smile.
I had made it through another operation and I smiled at the nurse that came to collect me to take me to the ward for observation. With this type of reversal, it was common practice to stay in hospital for a few weeks until it was noted that digestion was working correctly.
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| My stomach after the operation |
" .. not even morphine, oral or otherwise, was effective in controlling the pain .."
Staples, as a form of closing incisions, have a tendency to pull somewhat and, on their removal 14 days post surgery, can be a little painful. Even the dressings used were painful to apply with the nerve endings coming alive again. It was during this time that not even morphine, oral or otherwise, was effective in controlling the pain and was decided that Entonox gas (Nitrous oxide and oxygen) would be useful to help me control it better. I can truthfully say that it doesn't make you laugh and doesn't mask the pain much, it just helps to distract you.
One of the most painful experiences I have endured was awaiting for me on this ward, however. My blood samples were showing signs of some infection and the senior nurse practitioner was called to the ward to take a sample of my blood. Not from my usual veins which were now shrinking fast, but arterial blood. There are a few locations to obtain that sample, and a few were tried. My memory of that event still lingers, I can still see her face as she withdrew what looked to me like a knitting needle length syringe. The first location she tried was my wrist, bypassing the surface veins to access the artery below. Unsuccessful, another location was tried; my groin. Nothing prepared me for this.
Anguish was rife, just like the guided CT minor operation I endured in the previous hospital. I was unable to move again, having to just remain motionless whilst the needle was slowly pushed deeper into me to reach the artery. The fight or flight response is meaningless here, being unable to move, and all I could do was sink into myself and grimace through the pain. Unsuccessful again, she tried my wrist once more, this time reaching the artery and drawing off enough to complete the requirements for the test.
"Seeing death is humbling to ones own existence."
Once again, I made many friends during this stay, from the man who watched 24hours a day news to the young lad I gave emotional support to through sharing our experiences. I also saw death in this ward. The poor gentleman opposite, for whom I was unsure of the diagnosis, one night did not make it. I watched helplees as his curtain was drawn and numerous doctors and nurses tirelessly moved back and forth but to no avail. I heard, the next day that, despite being moved to Surgical Support Unit, he did not make it.
Seeing death is humbling to ones own existence. I was very lucky to be alive. So many times I could not have pulled through, so many times it could have been my wife in unconsolable grief looking at an empty bed that she regularly visited. I thought much on this during my stay.
After 4 weeks, I was released back home. This was, unbeknown to us, to be a temporary reprieve. There was still the fistulation from my side to my intestine. While my digestive system was in trying to cope with the sudden reboot following almost a year out of action, there was a tract of escape for feacal matter to come out of my hip abcess. After 10 days my pallor wasonce again turning a lighter shade of grey. The district nurses that attended our home, on a daily basis to dress my surgical wounds, suddenly found a need to call the emergency 'hotline'. The ambulance turned up, the sun had faded low on the horizon, and I was once again taken back in to hospital.
" .. good and bad news .."
My surgeon was called and he met me on the ward with both good and bad news. The bad news was that I was going back under the knife for a replacement ileostomy. The difference being, and this was the good part, it was further around my small intestine giving me more bowel to digest food. I wept once more, having the rug pulled out from under my progress again.
We had become such frequent friends he took me down to the theatre himself, which was the best bedside manner I had seen from any surgeon since my stay thus far. Lets face it, he'd seen parts of me that even I hadn't seen!
At around midnight, I was returned back to the ward. It was becoming more and more difficult for me to put on that 'happy face' but my determination was astronomical. I was driven to the extent that nothing was going to defeat me, I would endure whatever life decided to throw at me and come out on top.
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