Now I'm Bionic

Dear diary...

 

Monday 14^th August 2017.

 

So, it's 7.30am, here I am at the hospital once more ready as I'll ever be for what's coming. Behold the doors open leading to me into the unknown. I have no idea what to expect, this is all foreign territory to me, apart from getting into a gown and feeling like a lamb to the slaughter. Filled with trepidation after my last visit when the anesthetist collapsed, I prepare to join the multitude of other hip replacement cases.

 

My partner Steve kisses me goodbye at the door as he's not allowed in due to germs and infections spreading. Asking what time I'm due to have the operation, the nurse informs him it will be about 11.30am and to phone about 2pm to find out how I'm getting on.

 

The nurse leads me down a corridor with my brand new case wheeling along behind me and carrier bag. I follow her into a room that is extremely busy unlike my last visit, when there was only me and another man. Leading me into a cubicle, she tells me to gown up and she'll be with me shortly.

 

Drawing the curtain, I begin to wonder if I'll ever see my family again. It doesn't matter how many people tell me everything will be okay, there's still always that nagging feeling that lurks at the back of my mind, wondering if I'll die during the operation and will my body be able to take the strain of the anesthetic? Because I've never put myself through a major operation before.

 

The nurse comes back and fills in some forms with my details, then puts two tracking bands around my wrist, one showing that I have an allergy to prawns and shrimps, in fact any shellfish come to that,  the other with my date of birth and name. Once the nurse has left I again sit and wait.

 

It's now time for the physiotherapist to visit me. He asks about what my set up is at home and if I have the right height chairs to sit on. “All the equipment has been delivered,” I inform him. “Yes everything is at the right height for me.”

 

“Good, good,” he replies and proceeds to fit me with an orthopedic stocking which I have to put on my right leg, even though it's my left leg they're operating on. “You will need to wear those stockings all the time for the first six weeks,” he tells me. Then he asks me questions about myself and fills out form after form. I can see I'm going to be well tracked during my stay, which I'm grateful for.

 

With a smile the physio leaves and I'm sat waiting yet again, listening to mumbled conversations outside my cubicle that come and go. There's not much to do while I wait. I bought a Terry Brooks book in with me to read called: Tanequil, but my attention span isn't really good at the moment and I can't concentrate, so decide to decline leaving it in my case.

 

Eventually another nurse comes in and tags my case and bag, leaving me with just my glasses and takes it all up to the Aldbourne ward where I'll be recovering. So as I say goodbye to my belongings, the surgeon performing the operation arrives and shakes my hand, though for the life of me I can't remember his name. He tells me the operation will take about an hour and a half to two hours, then goes on to ask if I have any questions.

 

“Everything is pretty much explanatory in the book I was given,” I reply. So with that he marks the leg to be operated on with an arrow, then he too is on his way.

 

Again I'm left to wonder what will be next, when a tall Canadian guy walks in. All these people were introducing themselves, but I can't remember any of their names for the life of me.

 

“I'm the anesthetist,” he informed me, “I've come to discuss what sort of anesthetic will be right for you.”

 

“Well, to be honest I'd like to be completely asleep, I don't want to know anything.” I was quite adamant about this.

 

“Normally,” he declared, “we give regional anesthetic with a light sedation, which means anesthetic is injected into the spine making you numb from the waist down, then there's a lesser risk of blood clots or chest infections.”

 

“Will this mean I'll be awake during the operation?” I asked, feeling very concerned.

 

“Yes!” He replied nodding his head.

 

“Well then, I definitely don't want that,” I implored.

 

He posed the question. “How would you feel about having a spinal anesthetic, then a general?” I could tell he was determined to persuade me to have that dam spinal injection.

 

“Yes okay, that's fine, just as long as you put me out.” I think he could tell how sure I was that I wanted to be put to sleep.

 

Then he asked what kind of music I'd like to listen to while being anesthetized.

 

Well, this is different I thought. “I like Jazz if you have any.”

 

“Good choice!” Was his reply. “How about some Coltrane?”

 

“That would do just fine,” I replied, never expecting to have music playing while I went under.

 

He finished his questions with a smile and left the cubicle. I felt a bit lost at that moment knowing that this was it. I just wanted to get this show on the road.

 

Having no idea of the time and to be perfectly honest not caring, a nurse came to collect me and took me across the corridor to what I realized was the anesthetist room. Firstly there were three very nice men awaiting me. One was the Canadian, then there was another man who was quiet.

 

But my favorite was a young Welsh guy. I told him I loved the Welsh accent and that I used to visit family in Treharris Glamorgan. He informed me he came from Pontypridd. I could have listened to him talk all day and night and never minded that he was so chatty, in fact he took away all my cares and worries.

 

As I climbed up on the trolley bed, I was asked to turn and face away from the Canadian who would put the needle in my back, mean while the Welsh guy brushed my hair back and chatted about the Welsh mountains and how wonderful it was to be surrounded by them.

 

Then as the needle went in for the first time and he searched for the right place for it to go, I must have looked a sight as I screwed up every muscle in my face with the force of the needle which sent waves of pain through me.

 

“Try and imagine you're in those Welsh hills with fresh air and nature all around you,” urged the Welsh guy.

 

I closed my eyes. “I'm trying,” I said. But as the Canadian went in for a second time, it was becoming an effort to think of anything but that dam needle.

 

“Have you heard of the Welsh band, Celtic Pride?” I voiced, feeling sure the Welsh guy would have, trying to make more conversation.

 

“Yeah, sure,” he declared. “They play rock and heavy metal, don't they?” He declared.

 

By now the Canadian was going in for the third time and still without success. To say it was an ordeal was an understatement, I don't know how long I sat there just waiting for the dam needle to hit the right spot.

 

As John Coltrane continued to play out of the music system, the Welsh guy informed me that I had good taste in music. He began to tell me about how he saw Metallica at Glastonbury. I told him about my trip to Donnington and how I went back stage and got into the snake pit. He was very impressed.

 

It was only then that I screamed out in agony, as the anesthetist went in a fourth time, I had an electric shock right down my left leg, it made me jump and scream out.

 

“Okay! I give up,” announced the Canadian. “I'm really so sorry to have put you through all that for nothing, it looks like you were right.” I could hardly get annoyed because they were all so friendly towards me, so I assured them it was okay, but I was glad to just be put to sleep.

 

He told me to lay down on the trolley bed and a mask was placed over my mouth and nose. “You just lay there,” he said. “Count backward from ten. You won't remember anything.” All I could recall was being wheeled through some double doors and seeing people in the distance in white masks. I can't remember counting at all.

 

The next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery feeling very strange and tired. Apparently the nurse informed me the operation had taken two hours. I had an intravenous tube into my hand and a catheter, it was all so strange to me, but at that moment I never felt any pain, all I wanted to do was sleep, so that was exactly what I did until the nurse came and told me I would be wheeled up to the ward.

 

I have to say it was a lovely ward and I couldn't have wished for better had I been private. I was placed right by an open window with a view to die for, of trees, hills and Liddington Castle. There was a glimpse of small villages of Liddington and Wanborough. Behind in the distance was the ridgeway path and Vale of White Horse. All I had to do was turn my head and there it was. The down side, was that it was incredibly noisy, with the sound of traffic from the A419, but seemed to quieten down during a small percentage of the early hours.

 

On that first day, nurses kept waking me checking on my blood pressure and temperature every hour. Later on that day I struggled to sit up as a nurse bought me a cheese sandwich and coffee, which I really enjoyed as I'd not eaten since 5pm the day before. I also decided to take a look at my leg and had the shock of my life when I became aware that my whole leg was as red as a tomato. I called out quickly in a panic. “Nurse! Nurse! My leg's swollen up and it's really red.”

She came and took a look, smiling. I couldn't understand why she'd grin at the fear in my eyes.

 

“It's okay,” she uttered. “It's just the stuff they put on the leg to keep it clean, it will come off with some washes.”

 

Phew, was I relieved. But of course my leg had swollen, in fact it was double the size of my good leg, but I was told the swelling would go down eventually.

 

There were four beds in the ward. One nice lady named Amelia had a knee replacement, I think she came from Zimbabwe. Then in the bed next to me was a lovely lady named Cheryl who had a bunion removed from her foot. I have to say it was such a blessing having her there, we got on so well, I think we told each other our life stories over the course of three days.

 

I have to say I felt so sorry for the Amelia, because in the beginning she was doing so well, then half way through the week her knee began to bleed, though this did only set her back by a day, I just hoped she was okay in the end.

 

The strangest thing happened on, either the second or third night, I'm not quite sure. Cheryl had some friends to visit her. They were devout Christians, as was Cheryl. Before they left, her friend came round to see me as I was feeling very low in myself. She offered to say a prayer with me and I accepted.

 

That night there was the most amazing red crescent moon. It was stunning and vivid in the clear night sky, I'd never seen such a red moon. As the nurse turned out the lights and we were ready to sleep. I gazed out at the night sky and felt tears filling my eyes with wonder. I lay there speechless, when all of a sudden a moth flew from no where around my head. I had no idea where it came from, but it fluttered off across my curtain towards Cheryl. I called out, “Cheryl, can you see the moth?”

 

“I'm not sure,” replied Cheryl. “It looks like the shadow of a butterfly.”

 

What I called a moth flew back to my bed and fluttered around my head again, but not actually landing, then it flew back to Cheryl returning about five times. We both thought it was strange that it never went towards the nurses light, but eventually just disappeared. We never saw it again after that night.

 

The next morning I saw the most incredible golden sunrise coming up over the ridge way, it settled on the horizon for quite a while and left me speechless. When the nurse came round I told her I'd never seen a more beautiful sunrise, it was like being at Stonehenge on a Summer solstice and I felt very spiritual.

 

Heaving myself up by the metal hanger that hung above my bed, I managed shuffle over to the side where I managed to get my feet on to the floor with some difficulty, ready to take my first steps, it was like learning to walk again, a very strange experience indeed. From then on I managed to go to the bathroom unaided, so I was happy when they finally removed my catheter...what a relief that was.

 

By the third day I was really going for it with the walking frame up and down the corridor. The Physiotherapist showed me the exercises I'd have to do and I had no trouble in performing them. I didn't climb up and down the stairs until the last day, but again had no problem with them. The Physiotherapist told me a good way to remember which foot to lead with, was always to remember that the good leg went up to heaven first and bad leg went down to hell first, I found this very amusing, but extremely helpful. To be honest I couldn't believe how tired I was with each task, just washing and walking had me longing to close my eyes.

 

We had to stay out of bed during the day and to be honest I was glad, as I had the most awful bed sores and a huge blister on my bum, which made it difficult to sit comfortably, leave alone sleep at night.

 

The first proper meal I had was on the second day, it was so nice to eat a tasty vegetable soup with a bread roll, then a tuna salad with wedges, followed by an apricot yogurt, I thought I was in heaven. But sadly the rest of the meals were pretty average as I longed to go home.

 

The nurses put me on 30mg of codeine four times a day, which left me constipated for five days, it was horrible as they fed us three times a day. Never having been one for taking tablets, apart from my thyroid tablets, having to take about six tablets four times a day was more than I could bear, I continually felt nauseous and my body felt like I was swimming in tablets and food with all the water they made me drink.

 

By Thursday night I was refusing to eat, so they gave me laxative tablets, but because of the codeine the tablets didn't do a thing. It was so upsetting and left me in tears, as I tossed and turned with that dam blister.

 

Finally on Friday the 18^th August 2017, I managed the stairs. My blood pressure and temperature were good. The doctor came to see me checking up on my hip which he said was fine, then he asked me to wiggle my toes, which I had no problem doing. He told me everything looked good and they were ready to discharge me. “Hooray! I was going home.” Was I ecstatic.

 

A lady in the bed opposite me who had just received her second hip operation, lent me her mobile phone to contact Steve, but I couldn't get hold of him or my son. In the end the nurse managed to let my partner know I was ready to leave.

 

Boy was I glad when Steve arrived, it was getting really boring just sitting waiting. I watched as two nurses changed the sheets on Cheryl's bed and cleaned down the mattress ready for the next person to be wheeled in.

 

The new lady that came in was full of humor and had us all smiling, even though she was in pain and feeling sick. “Always look on the bright side of life, even if you don't feel a hundred percent,” She uttered smiling. I wished I had her positive attitude.

 

The medicine lady came and gave me my last dose of tablets, then explained what I would need to do when at home. Of course it was two paracetamol four times a day, two blood thinning tablets called dabigatran which I had to be taken last thing at night. But I told her I wouldn't be taking the codeine not with my constipation. The nurse also told me the stitches would need to be taken out in two weeks, so I would need to make an appointment with the nurse at my surgery as soon as I got home.

 

I'd already packed my case, so all that's left was to say my goodbyes. The nurse who came to wheel me down, seemed quite put out and wasn't at all chatty. As we waited for my partner to bring the car around to the entrance, it was as if this was the last place she wanted to be and although he'd only been gone a few minutes, she kept asking me where he was and when he'd be coming...as if I knew. When Steve finally arrived the nurse was abrupt, to be honest I was glad to see the back of her.

 

All I wanted to do when I got home, was get out of my clothes and have a good strip down wash, I felt so sweaty. Being able to stand in my own bathroom and sleep in my own bed was the best tonic ever. But the nightmare didn't end there.

 

To be continued...