The first week out of hospital isn’t easy. T has
cared for me tirelessly. But away from hospital you are left with your wound,
your incapacity and your drugs. There is no doctor or nurse on hand to check
you over when you are feeling strange. You are at the start of a long journey
of recovery that will take many weeks. Most of the online advice seems to
suggest that you should expect some initial setbacks.
My bed is comfortable but not in any way adjustable.
On the first night we piled up all the pillows from the house and T carefully lowered
me back against them. The slow descent was very painful. I gasped with relief
when resting semi-upright against the pillows and managed to sleep for a few
hours. I woke up stiff and in pain. T helped me up and I walked to the toilet
to unstiffen my bones. I took a shot of morphine before she lowered me back
against the pillows. This performance was repeated before morning and has been every
night since.
T also has to help dress me. I can’t bend sideways
or downwards. It is like being a child again. She holds my pants and trousers
open for me and I put one leg in and then the other. I can put my top on myself
but she has to put my socks on and do my laces up for me. After this I can get
around the house alright. After breakfast I make myself walk for five minutes
before I sit in the armchair, which I can just about get into and out of
myself. Daytime TV is as bad as it was last year.
The pain in my ribs is always there, it rises and
falls: sometimes a sharp stab or burning sensation, other times a grinding
ache. Its constancy wears you down. The morphine only takes the edge off it. I’m
very tired and sleep for a couple of hours each afternoon. I don’t have any
energy or enthusiasm but I make myself go for little walks and do my breathing
exercises. I also don’t have much appetite; I’m managing about half of what I
would normally eat. Despite their challenges, all of these problems are to some
degree anticipatable or normal for the situation I am in.
The problem with my guts was different and worrying.
Since the operation I have been very bloated with cramping in my bowels. Despite
taking four packets of laxatives a day, I had not passed anything, not even
wind since I was discharged. Indeed, the only bowel motion I’d had at all was
due to an enema in the Royal and felt very abnormal. I’d had enemas prior to
discharge on each of my previous times in hospital. They had followed the same
pattern. The enema softened an impacted stool and induced cramping and
convulsions in your rectum sufficient to pass it. After the log was gone the
bowels began to work normally. But this time there had been no impacted stool,
just minor cramping and a small amount of diarrhoea.
During the surgery my stomach and bowels had been
moved from my thorax into my abdomen. This meant that there was the potential
for some obstruction. The symptoms for a partial obstruction were those that I
was having. After several days the bloating and cramping became worse. We went
to see the GP. She felt and sounded my abdomen. She wasn’t sure whether there
was an obstruction or not and sent me for an X-ray.
I had the X-ray done at a shiny new health centre in
Banbridge on Friday. The pictures were sent to Craigavon Hospital marked
‘urgent’. By the end of the day the GP rang to say no report had come through.
She advised us to go to A&E if my symptoms got worse over the weekend. On
Sunday I was more bloated and crampy. T rang the Out of Hours service. They
asked me to come in that evening for an examination at Daisy Hill Hospital. The
doctor gave me a cursory glance and a quick prod without using her stethoscope
and sent me away with gelatine suppositories.
I woke early on Monday morning in more pain. We
decided to go to A&E at Craigavon. Arriving at 9am, the waiting room was
fairly empty and I was attended to quickly. They checked my X-ray and told me
there was no obstruction visible. They said that my colon was full two thirds
of the way around, but my rectum was empty. So the enema in the Royal had only shifted
a little of the constipation. They said another enema wouldn’t help and I would
have to increase the dose of laxatives and that eventually this would work. The
source of the problem was the morphine, which had the side effect of slowing my
bowels almost to a standstill.
Reassured we went home. I took more laxatives and waited.
Later on I had a semi-normal bowel motion. After thirteen days it felt so good
to have my normal functions restored. As the bloating and cramping began to
reduce, my mind turned to the grand medieval toilet I had seen at a ruined monastery
near York. The monks had diverted a stream and built several dozen stone seats back-to-back
over it. As far as ancient toilets go, it was an advanced design complete with
running water. The building was called the House of Easement.
An amazingly honest post, Paul. So glad you have come right – do hope that continues. You've been through an awful time. These posts of yours are not only engrossing but very helpful – you should aim to collect them and publish them in book form eventually. They would help lots of people. Thanks for sharing this. (Seriously!)
ReplyDeleteThank you Gerry. When I'm recovered I'll have a go at collecting and publishing them.
ReplyDeleteVery engaging writing, well done. Honest account of post hospital anxiety, resilience, relief. The sense of being abandoned, physical suffering and fear all captured really well, and yet tinged with humour. Greatly relieved when you had your breakthrough! It is marvellous you have such wonderful help and care from T. I hope every day brings new improvements and progress on the way to a full recovery.
ReplyDeleteThank you Anne. I'm improving slowly but I hope steadily. I'm very glad to have T, I don't know what I would do without her.
ReplyDelete