I'm Sleeved!

Well it is all done!  I am on the other side and life seems so good.  I am not in any real pain, I have lost kilos upon kilos and I’m not hungry!  I haven’t vomited, I am feeling stronger and stronger every day and best of all my horrible daily sweats seem to have vanished.

For those of you who love details I have lots for you, so settle in and take yourself back to Monday 5^th September….

I knew I had to fast so I was up early for a protein shake at 6am and was a little stressed that I wasn’t going to be able to eat all day. Got the kids off to kindy, did some last minute shopping with Mum before packing and showering and heading to the local private hospital. 

The roundabout started when we arrived at noon for my 3.30pm surgery – first to Reception, and then passed off to the surgery lounge (1), called to the desk and signed about 10 forms, seated in the next lounge(2). Met my lovely jovial anaesthetist and ran through lots of details, on the scales, bp and past surgery.  Back to the lounge(2) and by this time Mum was getting hungry and I decided that she should go and come back and meet me in my room post op. Next a nurse calls me in and checked all my details once again and moves me to another lounge(3) – let’s call it the freezing lounge because even I was shivering.  Next the pathology lady comes and vamps my blood and I am really surprised she could find a vein let alone blood that wasn’t frozen!  Still waiting in lounge (3) – and finally they come and get me explaining that they are really running behind and to take me to the pre-op ward.  I use the bathroom and change into the lovely gown, compression stockings, sockettes and hat.  I spend the next hour watching tv and waiting.  Finally a cheery wardsman comes to collect me and wheels me what seemed like kilometres to the pre-theatre room.  Apparently there will be another few minutes to wait as the previous patient is still on the table!  Every few minutes someone pops in to see if all is well and introduces themselves including my surgeon.  Soon my smiley anaesthetist comes in and prepares me for the next few minutes, he puts the drip in my hand, makes small talk and they wheel me into theatre.  I take a look around, say a hi to everyone and then I am off to sleep.  It was approximately 5.20pm.

The next memory that I have is arriving back in my room – seeing my Mum, trying to throw up and finding out that it had just gone 9pm.  Apparently I didn’t do too well in recovery and they kept me there for about 2 hours.  I have no memories of that time and I am thankful.

The night passes slowly, lots of wake ups to check stats, a trip to the bathroom, and before I know it morning has arrived.  I am feeling pretty good, no bad pain, able to get up and use the bathroom and a lovely lady comes and helps me to shower.  My surgeon comes and checks me over as do the registrars. I am using my little pain button a little and sipping on my water.  I doze in between servings of bad daytime TV.  As we head into the night I start to get a headache but don’t think too much of it.  By 9pm it is the worst headache I have ever had.  Every little thing hurts my head - the nurse’s chatter, the man coughing in the room across the hall, the light under the door and especially my drip machine which beeps each time it gets close to running short on any of the three substances on my drip tree.  I have a cry to the nurses…  surely there is something they can do and I wade through the night into Wednesday morning feeling like I have met with hell - yet still my tummy is feeling fine.

Over the course of the day they try O2, Ibuprofen, take me off the pain button and try another med.  I can’t move, I shake, sweat and almost vomit anytime I get out of bed.  I refuse a shower, ask them to keep my door closed and the curtains pulled and continue to try and sip my water.

My phone is getting so many calls and texts but I turn it to silent – I just can’t even bare to look at the screen. Night comes and things feel a little better.  I drug up and manage a little more sleep but not before I learn to turn off that damn drip machine beeping.

Thursday morning I feel a little brighter.  My vein collapses and they take out the drip… something I was delighted about.  Mum arrives after finishing 48 hours on shift and comes to my rescue with some yummy juice and wet washer for my head.  She helps me shower and change into my own pjs.  I am still feeling weak and my head still hurts but things are looking up. 

As the hours past I feel better, I try to get moving and not nap too much and before I know it Friday morning is here and I am given permission to come home. They still weren’t able to tell me what caused the headache.  The drugs, the GA, dehydration, the body detoxing – but it was horrible.

Since I have been home I am getting better and better each day.  The only thing that hurts is my leg which is bruised from all the anticlotting injections but I didn’t even have to take any panadol today.  I do get some slight pulling if I turn the wrong way, my five incisions are a little bruised but otherwise I am feeling great.