The Lost Week
Well, last week was—-how can I put it?—-interesting. I apologise for the tumbleweed blowing around this blog for a week or more, but last Sunday, my aforementioned medical problem went from painful and annoying to emergency status. In enormous pain, I did something that I’ve never done before; I called the out-of-hours GP service. The on-call GP I saw was very sympathetic, and could see that I was in enormous pain, but said that there wasn’t much he could do for me, and I had to try to get an appointment with a consultant as soon as possible via my GP. Anyway, after much ringing around on the part of my GP, and a lot of anxious waiting on my part, I was fitted in at a clinic. When they realised what was happening, I was admitted to hospital right away. I’ve never been in hospital before (I’ve been very lucky), but I just felt incredibly relieved that at last something was going to get done.
So, I was hooked up to a series of tubes (no, not the Internets, unfortunately) for a day, then fitted in for surgery the following day. I was discharged yesterday with a souvenir 15 cm incision, decorated with alarmingly gothic-looking surgical clips (Hellraiser goes to Office World) that I’m hoping to pass off as a duelling scar1. I’m incredibly sore (I never appreciated how much you use your abdominal region to do everything), weak and very tired, but relieved as anything that the worst is over, and that I still have all my internal organs in their rightful places.
I’ll probably write more about the experience later when I’ve got some energy back, but here are a few thoughts:
- I guess I’ve always known this because my Mum was a nurse, but NHS staff must be the hardest working and least appreciated (by the government, at least) people in the country. They never stop during their shifts, have an often dirty, and difficult job which carries a huge responsibility, and they deal with people at their lowest ebb. They (at least nurses, auxiliaries and cleaners) get appallingly paid, and yet they still mostly manage to be cheerful and still apparently enjoy their job.
- They love measuring things in hospital. Everything that goes in and everything that goes out is quantified and charted. I bet you have no idea what volume of urine you produce in a day, do you? I do now.
- Opiate drugs are quite an experience. Not one that I’d recommend, but morphine has a very curious way of allowing you to experience pain in a completely disconnected and objective way. You know that you’re in pain, but somehow it doesn’t matter very much to you.
- The staff were all wonderful (see point 1), but what I hadn’t expected was that the other patients would be so supportive. I was in a women’s hospital, which perhaps made a difference, but everyone looked out for everyone else in quite a touching way. One patient would spot that another was looking a bit green and ask them if they were all right, fetch a sick bowl if they were mobile or call a nurse if they weren’t. On a small ward with only curtains separating us, there was no such thing as real privacy, which I thought I’d hate being an essentially very private person. But actually, it was good to know that we were all in the same boat, and good to get a preview of what the next step would be. We had the most revolting conversations (often over meals) about bodily functions and dysfunctions, some of which were terrifying but also oddly reassuring. After hearing some real horror stories, I know that I got off very lightly. In the same way that we are somewhat distanced from death now because it is handled remotely by professionals and we are thus frightened of the unknown, I think that being distanced from illness increases fear. This spontaneous sharing of experience (both deliberate and unplanned) was a good way for us all to find out that what was happening to us might be painful, embarrassing and frightening, but it was normal and we would get through it. There was also a lot of deadpan (or should that be bedpan) humour.
- I will never again fail to appreciate normal bodily functions.
- Never ever cough with an abdominal wound. Likewise, never read Charlie Brooker’s Screen Wipe column in the same state.
- Lastly but not leastly, Mr. Bsag was a complete star. He ran around fetching things, arranging and re-arranging things, putting parents up for the night, and informing those who needed to be informed. When I was groggily coming to after surgery, he was at my side, gently stroking my arm, which was just what I needed.
1 Though that might be difficult, because it’s on my bikini line. Do people duel in bikinis? I’m sure I can bluff it out. ↑
1
You could always say you you were stabbed by a crow weilding a stick
Bet you are glad it happened after you got back.
Glad you're OK and back with the workers.....
by Jonathan Briggs @ 16/10/2006 6:11 pm • Permalink •
2
Re the surgical clips: Are you quite sure the surgeons didn't just use a staple gun from the nearest DIY store?
No, but seriously: I'm happy to hear you've got through the surgery, and here's to a good continued recovery.
by David (TEFL Smiler) @ 16/10/2006 10:11 pm • Permalink •
3
I'm glad to read that you are OK. I am a nurse myself, and understand completely what you're talking about. The standard explanation for nursing salaries is sheer numbers (a n% raise for nurses is much more expensive than a n*4% raise to doctors, just because there are many more nurses than doctors).
There are many nurses who enjoy their work, and for whom the salary is not what makes them get up in the morning (or evening, if they are on night duty), but a better salary would definitely help.
Anyway, I hope the worst is over, and that you recover completely!
by JJC @ 16/10/2006 10:11 pm • Permalink •
4
Yikes! I wound up in a similar situation my first year of professorship, and it was no fun.
Just be glad it is not during winter, ice season here. You never realize how much you use your abdomen for balance until you need to. After a few days cooped up, I needed to get out of the house but was nervous walking on my own so I asked my brother for help. At which point he started telling everyone he "needed to take [his brother] for a walk." Happily, he didn't insist on using a leash!
Glad to hear you are OK! Take it easy on the mend!
by Hobbitprof @ 16/10/2006 11:11 pm • Permalink •
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There seems to be a vast amount of surgery occuring in my reality awareness area. Must be be my age. I´m glad that yours seems to have been of the more "benign"(?) sort (as in not malignant or slowly fatal hopefully). Why not claim that your scar is the result of a tussle with a stingray? Anyhow, OUCH, and get well.
by john(jc.) @ 17/10/2006 5:10 am • Permalink •
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Very sorry to hear of your traumatic week, bsag, though it must be a great relief to be rid of the nagging worry that your illness was causing you. It speaks very well of you that you are able to take so much that is positive from this horrible and rather frightening experience. Get well soon, with my very best wishes to you and your family.
by ThoughtBadger @ 17/10/2006 6:10 am • Permalink •
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All: Thanks for all your get well soon wishes!
Jonathan Briggs: Yes, I'm really lucky that it happened when I was here rather than Brazil. It was hard enough trying to explain things in English, let alone attempting the same thing in Portuguese. I'm actually not back at work yet---I'm off for 6 weeks, on the doctor's orders.
JJC: Very true. I've always felt that nursing is more of a vocation than just a job. There are much easier ways to earn the same money if you're not really interested in caring for people.
David (TEFL Smiler): They do actually look alarmingly like someone has gone along the wound with a Rexel stapler
But I'm sure that wasn't the case...
Hobbitprof: I've just been pottering slowly around the house, but turning over in bed seems pretty difficult at the moment.
john(j.c.): I'm happy to say that my problem was benign, and I should make a full recovery. There is a chance of it recurring, but I'm trying not to think about that right now. I think that stingrays tend to make a hole rather than an incision, but it's worth a go
ThoughtBadger: Well, I'm generally a positive person, and there usually is an upside of some kind to most kinds of misfortune, even if it's just in changing your outlook or the way that you think about things.
by bsag @ 17/10/2006 10:10 am • Permalink •
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gws, bsag
by Mr.D. @ 17/10/2006 10:11 am • Permalink •
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Ah... Scars. I thought you could airbrush them out these days...
I'm one of these people who doesn't mind scars. I have several and always think up amusing and slightly unbelivable reasons as to why they exist.
"Ah yes, that half moon scar on my leg. Yes... I was cycling downhill at 35 mph when my chain broke and my shin was torn apart. Yes... I was winning the tour de Norfolk at the time..."
Points are awarded if you can mix truth and fiction.
by Nikki @ 17/10/2006 11:10 am • Permalink •
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Nikki,
Tour de Norfolk and Downhill - sounds like an oxymoron to me.......
by Jonathan Briggs @ 17/10/2006 2:11 pm • Permalink •
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