Surgery, 24th August 2012

I went into hospital on Friday, 24th August at around 1pm for the afternoon theatre list. My theatre slot was actually booked for 6pm but I had to arrive early for the usual proceedings to take place. I was allocated my room on the orthopaedic ward and was seen by my surgeon at around 5pm, as he had just come from the usual clinic that I attend as an outpatient. He explained all that he would do, and it turned out that the surgery was due to be a bigger one than I had expected. He would perform a total debridement and remove what tissue was left, and proceed to electrocoagulate the vessels that were still causing problems.

I spent a total of two hours in theatre, excluding the prep time, and all I can say is that the experience was one on the traumatic side. At times, I felt like they were treating me as an asleep patient and at other times they spoke to me like I were an infant. People were telling me that "this is normal" and stroking my hair and all sorts, when they knew full well that this was my thirteenth surgery and I wasn't really scared. Prior to my surgeon beginning the actual operation, it took five nurses to remove my dressings, one of whom decided to cut it off on the side of the wound, thereby pressing the scissors right into it. The surgeon had already infiltrated the area with lignocaine and was later going to use a long acting agent, prilocaine, I believe.

Anyway, so after the havoc that was removing the dressings, he began the surgery by applying a tourniquet and stopping the initial bleeding that was caused by the dressing's removal. In total, I believe he used around 100ml of anaesthetic, but it certainly looked like more when I looked over at the swollen mass that was my hand! So he began, using all sorts of knives, needles and scraping utensils, to remove "stuff". I don't really know how much he removed as I haven't seen the wound since pre-op. Two hours of cutting and scraping ensued, ending with a few minutes of electrocoagulation, by which point the anaesthetic was wearing off, resulting in a few mishaps as I flinched and couldn't keep still due to the onset of pain.

So I went back up to the ward, at around 8pm and was told that as long as I ate, drank and passed urine, I could go home. I was exhausted, however, and just wanted to rest. I was dehydrated already, as I hadn't eaten since lunch time on Thursday (the day before) but I was so run down that all I wanted to do was hide away. I can't say that the hospital did the best job at looking after me, for many reasons, but I'll go into that another time. Before I'd eaten, drunk or passed urine though, they were already telling me to leave the next day at around 2pm. Of course I wanted to go home, but home was an hour away on public transport but nonetheless I left anyway. I am doubtful that it was the right decision, as I have not been well at all since.

It has also come to my attention that people who I thought were my friends, are not my true friends and instead are egoistic, self-centred individuals instead. People who talk to me with the sole intention of telling me things and who aren't ready to listen and people who think that they are dealt the worst cards in life, all the time. I am so lucky, however, to have a few very, very close friends who are wonderful to me and I just hope I succeed in being as good to them as they are to me. Sorry it's been an extremely long post, but the last few days have been equally as long, if not longer. Love and hugs to all xxx