A few hours after the op, I'd had a cup of tea (best cup of tea in the world), a bowl of soup and half a cheese sandwich and I was still feeling fine; then two physios turned up with big grins on their faces.
'Hi, how do you feel about getting out of bed?' Now, this didn't come as a shock, we were told at the educational afternoon that they would be getting us out of bed on the day of the op to walk at least a few steps. Although I was a little doubtful of my capabilities I did feel like I might need a wee, so I suggested a trip to the loo might be in order. They explained that this was a 'no, no' and that I would need to use the commode for my first wee just in case. So they brought in a commode and closed the curtain. The male physio stepped outside and left me with Georgia. My legs felt like lead weights and it was a huge effort just to swing them round to sit on the edge of the bed. I felt a bit weak but made it the few steps to the commode. Georgia ripped off my cloth knickers (that sounds raunchy, it wasn't!) stepped behind the curtain and left me to pee. Suddenly I started to see floaters in front of my eyes and the room started to spin. Georgia asked if I was okay and I managed to say no. She dashed in, saw my ghostly pallor and said 'Right, let's get you back on the bed.'
I remember getting back to the edge of the bed and the next minute I was being roused from a lovely dream about being on a Caribbean island. I was wearing an oxygen mask and four people were hovering just above my face. I didn't have a clue where I was.
Once the doctor was happy I was left alone with Georgia. Did I faint? Did you have to catch me? I said. Yes and yes she said. Thank goodness I hadn't fainted on the commode and fallen forwards, I would have been straight back into surgery. So physio decided that it would be better to leave it for today. They explained that fainting is quite common after anaesthesia and not to worry. They'd come back tomorrow.
A couple of hours later and I was feeling a bit brighter. My favourite nurse, whose name I can't remember so let's call her Sophie (no idea why), came to do my obs. By now I was busting for the loo so Sophie brought the commode in again. She thought it would be wise to stay with me this time. I sat on the commode, came over all dizzy again and promptly threw up five times into the cardboard bowl that she produced from nowhere. It was almost up to the brim and she had to call a nurse to bring another bowl. My stomach was now totally empty again and I felt like a new woman. The colour came back into my cheeks and Sophie left me to pee whilst she disposed of my vomit, bless her.
But as desperate as I was to pee I just couldn't go. After ten minutes of trying we gave up and I got back into bed. I told Sophie that I REALLY needed to go. She explained that sometimes the epidural can cause the bladder to go to sleep, so they would need to do a bladder scan to see if it really was full and if it was then they'd have to insert a catheter to prevent me from getting a kidney infection. She gave me one last chance to go in private and propped a bedpan underneath me as she went off to find the bladder scan, but there was no joy.
The bladder scan was a bit like an ultrasound, she put a cold jelly on my belly and moved the probe around to gauge how full my bladder was. I was holding 790 mls of fluid, so it was pretty full. Apparently the most a bladder can hold is 800 mms (or so Google tells me!). Sophie trotted off to get the catheter and I prepared some horrific pain as she pushed a tube up my wee hole (not a technical term!) but she was so gentle that I hardly felt a thing. Once it was in she then 'inflated' a small balloon with liquid that would sit on my bladder to keep the catheter in place. Within moments I felt relief and watched as my pee trickled off down the tube to the bag attached to the side of my bed.
The dinner trolley came round but I wasn't feeling up to any food. Then it was visiting time and the ward was full of chattering visitors and excited children running up and down. Luckily my curtain was still partly drawn so I could lie there silently without too many gawping eyes. At eight o'clock the visitors left and the ward calmed down. I was still on two hourly obs and my blood pressure had dropped quite a bit. When the evening drinks trolley came round I declined a tea but took a three-pack of digestives just in case I felt like a nibble later.
Sophie came to see me and I promptly threw up again. How do they do their jobs? I felt so sorry for everyone on the ward too, whenever I hear somebody vomit it almost always makes me want to do the same. There was as much volume this time and I congratulated myself for not having the tea. Half an hour later I was feeling much better and managed to nibble on my digestives before lights out. I felt pretty smug just lying there peeing into my catheter as I watched all the old ladies struggle past my bed on their way to the loo on their zimmers and crutches. At least I wouldn't have to face that hurdle until tomorrow.
We had a very peaceful night on ward. I slept in a sitting position for most of it and slowly lowered myself as it became uncomfortable. I didn't sleep brilliantly but managed to doze in between the two hourly obs. Then at around 5.00am the lady in the bed opposite began to moan. Her moans got louder and louder and I heard her say 'Help me! Help me! If I knew it was going to be this painful I wouldn't have had the op and just stayed on painkillers for the rest of my life.' The nurses came and gave her some extra pain relief and she was sound asleep ten minutes later. I knew that I was still in my honeymoon period as the effects of the epidural painkillers still hadn't fully worn off and this was a stark reminder of what was still to come.
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