Chapter 3

Surgery day arrived.

My overnight bag was packed. I still looked like I was off to the Labour Ward.

Wes drove me to the hospital, and we were greeted on the ward and asked to sit in the waiting room. We had been asked to be there for 8am but, guess what? No bed. So we just sat patiently in the room, waiting to be called through. Whilst we were there, the Colorectal Surgeon came to meet me and talk me through his part of the procedure. I also had to sign a consent form for him, after talking through the things that could happen, such as a stoma bag and even death. Thankfully I’m not an anxious person, as these things would have frightened most other people, and even some brave people might have had a ‘code brown’ (a nurse saying for ‘skidding pants’). Eventually at about midday I was called to my bed. The perks of being a nurse; I had a side room.

They came to collect me about an hour later. With me having my sexy gown and stockings in place, Wes gave me a kiss goodbye, and I felt really emotional as I was wheeled down to theatre.

We entered the anaesthetic room, where I was greeted by two friendly members of the team. They introduced themselves and explained how they would put a cannula into my hand, and would give me some analgesia, antibiotic and a relaxant through the cannula. We chatted away about theatres, and how ‘theatre nursing’ was possibly my next adventure (or at least that was I thought at that time). Then they placed a mask over my face, and they encouraged me to take deep breaths and think happy thoughts. It is a really strange sensation as you feel yourself lose control, but I had a real sense of peace.

I woke in recovery in pain. I remember crying and asking the nurse for pain relief. They gave me some intravenously through my cannula. This did not seem to help, so they gave me a PCA (Patient Controlled Analgesia). This was also inserted into a vein, and I could press the button as and when required.

They took me back to my room about 7 pm, where Wes was waiting for me. I felt really spaced out and cannot remember too much. I do remember the Gynaecology Consultant coming into the room to tell me the procedure had been a difficult one; my bowels had been stuck together due to fluid having leaked, so the Colorectal Surgeon had had to separate the bowel first. Also, during surgery one of my ovaries had ruptured, but they had removed everything that they had hoped to. Wes said it was really funny chatting to me, as it was like I was drunk – I was emotional and funny, and did not want him to leave me.

I do not recall much of that night.

In the morning the nurses came in bright and early, and wanted me to walk to the bathroom and then sit in my chair. I totally refused, and said that I would do it when I was ready (the ‘awkward patient’).

I was in hospital for a few days, which all seemed to roll in to one. I had had a vertical cut and was very sore. I did eventually get out of bed and walk to the bathroom, but I was exhausted. I spiked a temperature and was in pain. Wes and Chaz stayed with me whilst the doctors reviewed me. I had to have antibiotics, and I felt sick and vomited on several occasions. I also started having hot flushes, feeling like I was burning from the inside out. Kelly (Chaz’s step mum) brought me some ice cubes to suck on. These were a great help.

On the Sunday I pleaded for the doctor to let me go home. I had been there five nights. They agreed, so my son came to pick me up after his night shift. It was very painful and difficult to walk, so Chaz took me to the car in a wheelchair. He found this highly amusing! I surprised Wes as I had not told him I was coming home. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me; I think he had missed my non-stop talking…

In the following weeks I had visits from family and friends, and I tried to do a bit more each day. When Wes was on nights, I was lucky enough to be able to go and stay at my mum’s. I was totally exhausted. I was not sleeping due to hot flushes because the surgery had brought on surgical menopause. I felt dreadful but kept smiling. The only bonus was there was no more spending money on sanitary products.

These weeks were also a very difficult time whilst I waited for the results. I think I googled everything from ‘ruptured ovary’ to when I was able to become sexually active again! This latter issue was a worry because Wes and I had been together for a short time and we had enjoyed an active sex life as part of our very happy relationship. Thankfully all was good, and I seemed to be in working order.

I rang the hospital to chase up my results after two weeks had passed, but there was no news yet… Anytime a person told me, ‘no news is good news’, I felt I was going to scream.

Then I had a phone call asking me to go for an appointment. This was now four weeks since my surgery, so it must be ‘good news’ – right?