The last couple of days have been a bit of a blur.
As you know I went into hospital on Thursday morning for my knee operation. Arrived at 7.30am and was taken through to my room which was huge and with an en suite bathroom. Lovely flat screen television and just really nicely decorated. Just like a hotel really with a little bag of toiletries in the bathroom and glass bottles of water on the bed tray.
I was told I was due to go down for my operation at 9am which was great news for me. I had joked with my best friend George that I wasn't keen on being first as I quite liked the idea that the surgeon would have had chance to warm up on someone else but I didn't fancy being third or fourth as I knew I would just be getting anxious waiting. So to be second on the list suited me just fine. David and I had chance to get comfortable and my mum joined me just before 9am so David could return home to get back to his work.
While we were waiting the nurse put a very sexy looking compression bandage on my other leg and the surgeon came and drew a big black arrow to indicate which leg they were supposed to operate on. To be honest they are both as bad as each other so it wouldn't have been the end of the world if he had operated on the wrong leg as they both need doing eventually!
I had been a little nervous about being put to sleep as sometimes when I am falling asleep or waking up I try and move but my body doesn't react. My head is screaming out to me to move and my limbs just stay dead to the world. Eventually after what seems like an age I manage to finally stir but by that time my heart is racing and I have wound myself into a right panic. So in my head I was thinking that being put under anaesthetic might feel somewhat the same and I really wasn't looking forward to it. However, when it came to it the anaesthetist put a cannula in the back on my left hand and told me he was going to give me some pain killers that would make me feel a bit like I had had a few drinks on Christmas day. All of a sudden I felt very light headed and whoozy and told him so. The anaesthetist replied 'well yes that will be the painkillers' and I said 'but how? You haven't connected anything to me yet. How did the painkillers get in me?' He then explained they were already in the cannula in the back of my hand. Didn't I feel stupid!
Anyway after a couple of minutes he said he was going to top up the painkillers but I don't remember him doing anything and indeed I don't remember anything else until I woke up on the recovery ward.
I had expected him to tell me he was going to put me to sleep and to get me to count up to ten or backwards from ten but there was none of that I was just gone. I was quite relieved really as I didn't have chance to realise I was being put to sleep let alone get anxious about it.
When I woke I was on a large ward but all the other beds were empty, the physio came and put a leg brace on me. The anaesthetist was sat next to me and I would feel pain in my leg and my throat felt sore from where I had had a tube down it during the operation. He tried pumping me full of drugs to get the pain under control but nothing seemed to work. After an hour and a half he tried something that slightly took the edge off the pain so I could be wheeled back to my room. I think my mum had been worried about why I had been so long as the operation was only supposed to take an hour and I was away ages.
Back in the room the nursing staff kept trying different drugs including oral morphine but nothing touched the pain. I started to feel really sick probably as a result of all the drugs and I was unable to go back to sleep because of the pain even though I felt overwhelmingly tired.
I was supposed to be discharged four hours after the operation but the physiotherapist kept coming to the room, taking one look at me and saying he would come back a little later.
Finally at 4.30pm I thought they just weren't going to find a painkiller to remove the pain and I should really try and just get out of bed and let the physio show me how to use the crutches. He helped me up but I only managed a few paces before I felt like I was going to be violently sick. He insisted I returned to bed and then told me there was no way I was going to make it home that day because he would be unable to sign me off as fit to leave.
In a way I was quite relieved as the thought of having to get in the car and then get up the stairs back at home was simply beyond me. Also it is so much easier being in a hospital bed that you can raise and lower to get in and out and then raise and lower the back to sit up.
Finally that evening after nine hours of trying they managed to find a combination of painkillers that actually took most of the pain away. David had returned to be with me by this point and my mum had gone home to look after the boys.
David stayed with me for a couple of hours and after he left I thought I would finally be able to sleep but I just couldn't get comfortable and then it was either really noisy or one of the nurses would come in and leave the light on or the door open so I was wide awake all night. However, once the pain was gone I was able to get myself out of bed and walk on crutches to the bathroom so I felt ever so proud of myself.
Friday morning before my mum came back to the hospital the physio returned and we did a bit of walking and he got me walking up and down a few stairs. He showed me how to passively exercise my knee by lifting it with my hands but told me I am not to try and lift my leg using my thigh muscles in case I dislodge the screws in my leg.
David came to pick me up about 12.30pm but they took ages to get me ready. I had to have the dressing on my leg replaced which wasn't much fun as the nurse was an hour and a half late giving me my medication and then she was pressing on the wound which was agony. I managed to get dressed and she gave me my medication to take home but then realised I was supposed to have an x-ray before discharge so I had to go and have that.
Poor David was waiting to return to work and ended up waiting three hours for me to leave hospital.
In the end I decided to go home to my mum's so David could just get back to work and not have to worry about me.
It was nice to see the boys. Nat had made me a card at pre-school.
So I am out of hospital. My day seems to revolve around when my next lot of medication is due and I am still very tired from missing so much sleep but the pain is bearable and the nausea only intermittent.
I have made myself a long list of useful and enjoyable things to do while I am immobile so hopefully will feel up to working my way through it soon. I seem to keep losing my words and my brain isn't working properly yet so not sure I should get the crochet out just yet but it's nice to be back on my blog!
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