It was purely coincidental the timing of our operations. Jupiter was booked in for her desexing weeks in advance whilst my surgery was out of the blue. Still, it was sweet to have a sleepy pain companion as Ben set up camp in the lounge for us.
I remember the day I got admitted to hospital I'd woken up with heavy cramps and normally I'd skip my daily walk but Joop's waggy tail is hard to ignore. When we got her, a few months earlier, she didn't have that waggy tail. She'd been mistreated and it took a while for her to enjoy going on walks. It took her a while to not freak out when I'd slip on the path or crunch a stick wrong. Someone suggested she may have been kicked from behind.
The waggy tail was too cute.
My solution was to go for the walk but take Ben along too, so if the pain was too much I could return home. I got to the top of the hill (the halfway point of the walk) and I felt okay, plus at this point, there was literally no point in turning back. On the downhill things got serious quickly, I had to keep sitting down from the pain which eventually reached 8/10. I asked Ben to search my backpack for my pain meds, he couldn't find them so he offered to run home and grab them for me. I was a hundred metres or so away from a park bench, I figured whilst he was gone, I would slowly make my way there. Except I couldn't. I found a spot in the middle of the track and lay there in pain. I started to freak out. I had experienced pain like this once before but it was at home and Ben ran me a bath and it felt comforting. Here I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. I felt incredibly nauseous and managed to move my body enough to not vomit on myself. When Ben came back he offered to piggy back me home but the thought of climbing on his back scared the hell out of me so I asked if he could ring for an ambulance. Something I'd never done before. The wait felt forever and I started to panic big time. My whole body was shaking by this point, my breathing laboured and I had pins and needles up my legs. I remember from my first aid training to remain calm and I kept trying to do that. Ben could see I was getting worse, the emergency operator said to call back if my symptoms escalated. Ben did and I'm so glad I got to talk with the operator. He was extremely calm. He told me my pins and needles were most likely from my laboured breathing and he helped me calm my breath. It was very very helpful. I remember trying to reassure Ben that he had done first aid and if I lost consciousness he would know what to do. I heard sirens from the bottom of the track and I dreamt they were instantly beside me.
When they got to me, the gave me the magic green whistle and I was able to walk down the track myself. I explained I was on my period and I had endo and was scheduled for an upcoming operation and I half thought they would simply think I was another girl whinging about her period and maybe they did as they decided whether or not to take me to hospital. I said it was probably smart to go in case I had some cysts develop that had burst and I explained my pain was much higher than normal.
I honestly thought I would have some scans, maybe they'd see a cyst but ultimately I would be sent home in a few hours. Instead I didn't end up leaving the hospital system for another five days. The first doctor suspected appendicitis and a scan showed inflammation but they weren't sure if it was due to my endo or not. This would go back and forth and I was moved from one hospital to another to one ward to another before being scheduled in for surgery.
In hospital Ben would come in every day. He bought his lap top and lay with me and we watched 'Forever' in bed together. That show will always remind me of my time in hospital. I lost a lot of weight too because I was on the 'no food by mouth' list, waiting to be wheeled in for surgery at any moment. They'd let us know by 10pm each night that surgery was closed and we weren't going in that day and for the first few days they struggled to find me vegan food. Mostly they'd find sugary juices and fruits which were a bit too much especially late at night and especially after fasting. The first time I ate I ended up vomiting it all back up. Ben was my saviour and cooked me up some healthy meals which meant everything to me. Eventually I'd be given a meal plan with actual proper food options - small joy but it felt pretty monumental at the time.
When I got home Ben set up a mattress in our lounge. I owe him enormous amounts of kindness for being there for me when Dad died and when I had this operation. It's not easy to be thrown into a different schedule and routine, one that you didn't ask for but he powered through. He bought me undies from the hospital gift shop when I was still wearing my walking clothes from days before - no annoying request was ever to annoying for him.
Something really strange happened. I had my first surgery in 2018. I was scheduled, I went in and went home all in the one day. This time though I felt in the dark about my health - no one could tell me exactly what was going on. The lack of sunlight and exercise and nutritious food, interactions with my pets and daily routines and simple things like watering my garden were all missing. At one point Ben said I should push to go outside. So I wheeled my drip out and held my gown tight in the breeze as we walked around the outside courtyard - it was so so magical.
Within the first 24 hours they gave me antibiotics for my appendix and I felt 100% fine after that, my period had ended, I had zero pain. As the days went on though, I felt weaker and weaker and more depressed. When I went in for surgery, I felt like a sick person and when I came out of surgery my recovery was not smooth sailing. I'm saying all this because I realised a huge thing. My emotional wellness hugely impacted my physical wellness.
I was so so lucky to have an amazing nurse on shift after I came out of surgery. I started to notice my pain was quite elevated, they had given me a 24 hour neurofin and panadol and endone but nothing was dissipating the pain and I started to panic. I remember telling the young nurse, Alana that I was scared and I started to cry (a new low point). She didn't make me feel alone, instead she was so kind and told me about their meditation sessions they have at the hospital and I remembered I had a meditation on my ipad and how great an idea that was. She offered to sit and massage my hand. She contacted the doctor and got me morphine, she was instructed 2.5mg-5mg and she gave me the full 5. She did more frequent observations on me (heart, blood pressure and temp). My temp went up to 38. It would eventually settle down. When I left the hospital I ended up submitting a formal thank-you letter to her. I would go on to have some nurses that didn't listen, so to experience the opposite, made such a difference.
On my last night in hospital, the older night nurse was worried about my low blood pressure.
At home, I went to take a bath and I almost blacked out, I took my temp and it was 38, it eventually went back down and I eventually got better. I just needed to find a calmness in myself and trust my body that it knew how to heal :)
After my surgery, I dove into cleaning up my own health. It was already pretty good but I was inspired for my body to function the best it could or at a level I could happily sustain. I tried a low-fodmap diet (to try and discover food triggers) but found it really difficult to do as a vegan - I did however take some aspects of it, along with following a more anti-inflammatory diet. It's not a big change just a cutting back on soy, keeping up with the rainbow vegetables on my plate each day and decreasing my gluten intake and sugar (always working on that one!).
Getting all my routines back, watering my garden, watching my plants grow, my daily walks, my happy pets, creativity, cooking, it all helped to heal. I imagine hospitals in the future will address our emotional needs more and I can only imagine how fantastic that will be :)
I remember the day I got admitted to hospital I'd woken up with heavy cramps and normally I'd skip my daily walk but Joop's waggy tail is hard to ignore. When we got her, a few months earlier, she didn't have that waggy tail. She'd been mistreated and it took a while for her to enjoy going on walks. It took her a while to not freak out when I'd slip on the path or crunch a stick wrong. Someone suggested she may have been kicked from behind.
The waggy tail was too cute.
My solution was to go for the walk but take Ben along too, so if the pain was too much I could return home. I got to the top of the hill (the halfway point of the walk) and I felt okay, plus at this point, there was literally no point in turning back. On the downhill things got serious quickly, I had to keep sitting down from the pain which eventually reached 8/10. I asked Ben to search my backpack for my pain meds, he couldn't find them so he offered to run home and grab them for me. I was a hundred metres or so away from a park bench, I figured whilst he was gone, I would slowly make my way there. Except I couldn't. I found a spot in the middle of the track and lay there in pain. I started to freak out. I had experienced pain like this once before but it was at home and Ben ran me a bath and it felt comforting. Here I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere. I felt incredibly nauseous and managed to move my body enough to not vomit on myself. When Ben came back he offered to piggy back me home but the thought of climbing on his back scared the hell out of me so I asked if he could ring for an ambulance. Something I'd never done before. The wait felt forever and I started to panic big time. My whole body was shaking by this point, my breathing laboured and I had pins and needles up my legs. I remember from my first aid training to remain calm and I kept trying to do that. Ben could see I was getting worse, the emergency operator said to call back if my symptoms escalated. Ben did and I'm so glad I got to talk with the operator. He was extremely calm. He told me my pins and needles were most likely from my laboured breathing and he helped me calm my breath. It was very very helpful. I remember trying to reassure Ben that he had done first aid and if I lost consciousness he would know what to do. I heard sirens from the bottom of the track and I dreamt they were instantly beside me.
When they got to me, the gave me the magic green whistle and I was able to walk down the track myself. I explained I was on my period and I had endo and was scheduled for an upcoming operation and I half thought they would simply think I was another girl whinging about her period and maybe they did as they decided whether or not to take me to hospital. I said it was probably smart to go in case I had some cysts develop that had burst and I explained my pain was much higher than normal.
I honestly thought I would have some scans, maybe they'd see a cyst but ultimately I would be sent home in a few hours. Instead I didn't end up leaving the hospital system for another five days. The first doctor suspected appendicitis and a scan showed inflammation but they weren't sure if it was due to my endo or not. This would go back and forth and I was moved from one hospital to another to one ward to another before being scheduled in for surgery.
In hospital Ben would come in every day. He bought his lap top and lay with me and we watched 'Forever' in bed together. That show will always remind me of my time in hospital. I lost a lot of weight too because I was on the 'no food by mouth' list, waiting to be wheeled in for surgery at any moment. They'd let us know by 10pm each night that surgery was closed and we weren't going in that day and for the first few days they struggled to find me vegan food. Mostly they'd find sugary juices and fruits which were a bit too much especially late at night and especially after fasting. The first time I ate I ended up vomiting it all back up. Ben was my saviour and cooked me up some healthy meals which meant everything to me. Eventually I'd be given a meal plan with actual proper food options - small joy but it felt pretty monumental at the time.
When I got home Ben set up a mattress in our lounge. I owe him enormous amounts of kindness for being there for me when Dad died and when I had this operation. It's not easy to be thrown into a different schedule and routine, one that you didn't ask for but he powered through. He bought me undies from the hospital gift shop when I was still wearing my walking clothes from days before - no annoying request was ever to annoying for him.
Something really strange happened. I had my first surgery in 2018. I was scheduled, I went in and went home all in the one day. This time though I felt in the dark about my health - no one could tell me exactly what was going on. The lack of sunlight and exercise and nutritious food, interactions with my pets and daily routines and simple things like watering my garden were all missing. At one point Ben said I should push to go outside. So I wheeled my drip out and held my gown tight in the breeze as we walked around the outside courtyard - it was so so magical.
Within the first 24 hours they gave me antibiotics for my appendix and I felt 100% fine after that, my period had ended, I had zero pain. As the days went on though, I felt weaker and weaker and more depressed. When I went in for surgery, I felt like a sick person and when I came out of surgery my recovery was not smooth sailing. I'm saying all this because I realised a huge thing. My emotional wellness hugely impacted my physical wellness.
I was so so lucky to have an amazing nurse on shift after I came out of surgery. I started to notice my pain was quite elevated, they had given me a 24 hour neurofin and panadol and endone but nothing was dissipating the pain and I started to panic. I remember telling the young nurse, Alana that I was scared and I started to cry (a new low point). She didn't make me feel alone, instead she was so kind and told me about their meditation sessions they have at the hospital and I remembered I had a meditation on my ipad and how great an idea that was. She offered to sit and massage my hand. She contacted the doctor and got me morphine, she was instructed 2.5mg-5mg and she gave me the full 5. She did more frequent observations on me (heart, blood pressure and temp). My temp went up to 38. It would eventually settle down. When I left the hospital I ended up submitting a formal thank-you letter to her. I would go on to have some nurses that didn't listen, so to experience the opposite, made such a difference.
After my surgery I was off my drip and free to drink and eat
whenever. The mash that I ate tasted heavenly. I remember being so
excited by a meal of steamed veggies that one of the nurses mocked me for being so exciting. To me it was what my body was craving, every vegetable tasted so
full of flavour and packed of nutrients and that mash! Heaven!
Recovery buddies!
On my last night in hospital, the older night nurse was worried about my low blood pressure.
She had left my bed side barricades up and asked if I could
buzz her if I wanted to go to the toilet because of potential
dizziness. When I buzzed in the morning the older night nurse was coming
to the end of her shift and a new nurse was one. They both looked at me like I was crazy when I explained I was a little worried about getting out of
bed to the toilet because of pain and I buzzed for some assistance. The word must have gotten out that it was discharge day for
myself. Maria, the doctor came and visited, still unsure whether I
had appendicitis but they would let me know the test results in 2 weeks.
Maria
said the heightened pain and temp yesterday was something they wanted
to keep watching me over but I would probably be released that afternoon.
At this stage of my hospital journey, I really wanted to stay and be monitored. My pain still felt so high. I tried not to drink too much so I wouldn't have to leave my bed for the bathroom.
I
overheard Maria talk on the phone in the hallway, she said she was still confused about what was going on with me and wanted a second opinion. That would
be the last time I saw Maria or another doctor with a second opinion
but I was waiting anxiously.
From this point on, I felt completely invisible whilst my pain felt so high - nobody was listening. The next person who came in to see me was a doctor I had never seen before with my discharged papers.
I stumbled over words and manage to ask some practical questions like how I was even going to get to the car. He sheepishly laughed and said even though he's a doctor he doesn't know much about the wheelchairs and to ask the nurse.
I secretly cried, I didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I wiped away the tears and waited for Ben to come pick me up. I was so worried about the practicality of getting dressed into clothes or being able to sit in a wheelchair with my pain levels still so high. I did end up seeing the nurse one last time as she took out my cannula. She laughed about how it was half out already.
I know this sounds really melodramatic and it probably was to everyone around me but it felt so real at the time. Looking back it was an important lesson to myself to stay on top of my emotional health as much as my physical.
I know this sounds really melodramatic and it probably was to everyone around me but it felt so real at the time. Looking back it was an important lesson to myself to stay on top of my emotional health as much as my physical.
Sketching Joop
Oh and two weeks later they rang to tell me the tests results, I did have appendicitis.
Dear Fee, I hope you are much better now! Your puppy is soooo cute! I’m thinking of you and sending you lots of hugs! Anca
ReplyDeleteSoooo much better now :) :) Thank-you for the love!!
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