When I arrived at the third floor I was given a shared room with another patient. Something I wasn’t happy with but given my situation, anything was better than being in ITU. I was hooked up to a lot of machines which were all very temperamental. The IV machine would go berserk if you bent your arm and would not shut up until a nurse heard it and switched it off. The good thing however was that in such a state, you don’t have to get up to use the loo. After the operation you are given the honour of having a catheter stuck right up you. Not to get in the details but it took a few days for me to gain the courage to look down to how the catheter was attached. Let’s just say you do not want to accidently pull the tube or worse still – have someone step on it and pull it with their foot!
Moving on to more prettier things (I know, this post creates such wonderful images doesn’t it?!), you won’t be allowed to have a shower for a good few days. This is because of the wound on your chest and the pacing wires which hang out of your wound. I think they’re there to set the pace of the heart if anything bad happens and you’re not meant to get them wet. Either way, not having a shower for a good few days is NOT nice. The smell is awful and I found myself apologising every time someone came close! So a word of warning for future patients – take deodorant with you!
Now you might remember a few posts back I mentioned testing how music impacted on my pain after surgery (after doing some research on pain and music myself). To put it bluntly, it did not work. The pain was too intense for me to even want to listen to music. Part of me now questions the research I’m doing but I try to remind myself that I was in a different situation and for some people it might be helpful.
A lot of doctors stopped by to visit and the only thing I asked them was when was I leaving. Because I’m young I was aiming to be out of the hospital after 5 days. It became a running joke with the doctors that I wanted to get out at all costs. The problem was, what I wasn’t prepared for was catching an infection. They planned to release my after 6 days but then the bad news came. I was staying for a good while longer until they found out what I had and got it under control. Any rational person would accept this but I was furious. I wanted to get out. Let me have the medicine and I’ll take it at home!
As the days went on my wound healed more and my pacing wires came out – something not very painful but for some reason it made me very tired to the point of not being able to move. The good news was that I could shower and walk around. Eventually I managed the stairs with the physiotherapist and they were happy for me to go home. Too bad the doctors still wanted to keep an eye on my infection!
I kept myself occupied by walking around and I met a few people on my journeys. One appeared to be a nice man and he told me about his time in the hospital. It was at this point I noticed the swastika tattoo on his hand. At this stage I need to point out I’m brown and found this very strange. Was he a reformed racist? Did he see me as being different because I was in the hospital with him? I really wanted to ask but his young daughter was there too and thought it would be inappropriate.
As the days progressed I developed a bad cough which would happen every time I spoke. The doctors eventually told me I had fluid around the heart irritating my lungs and they needed to operate again on me to drain it...
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