For reasons that will become clear this post will have to be a retrospective. I only got home yesterday after the operation, but I'll try to get down what has happened over the past few days.
We went to Castle Hill as a family. I suppose we must have looked a bit like people on a day trip or something. I checked in and was shown to my room - yes, a private room, not just a bed on a ward. There we waited until one of the nurses did the work up on my history. There followed a succesion of people who more or less asked the same questions and filled in different forms with the answers. The last person to visit was my surgeon, Mr Choudrhi. A small, dapper man he oozed confidence and inspired so much more, in both myself and my family. Some people have the ability to inspire trust on sight, and Mr Choudrhi is one of them. He told us all exactly what would happen and pretty much what to expect. After he left we all looked at each other and came to the same conclusion - I couldn't be in better hands.
Having said all the things families do at such times we parted and they went home leaving me in the capable hands of the nurse in charge, Julia.
The long wait began.
I was collected for surgery the following morning at about 11 am. I climbed on to the trolley and was wheeled away by a jocular porter, cracking jokes all the way while I lay back and watched the ceiling lights pass overhead, just like in the film Coma, and feeling just as out of control.
In the ante room I was hooked up to many lines and drips by another band of wisecracking medics. It seemed almost surreal to me, I was petrified and they thought of so many funny lines that I had no choice but to at least smile. Finally I heard some one say "Just one more", then - nothing.
I vaguely remember coming to and being given instructions to move in various positions to help get the various drains from my body, then slept again. At sometime I awoke and found my family around me. I remember thinking that at least I'd made it, and and the smiles of encouragement from them. Of course we talked, but what of, I have no idea. Time drifted past in a mixture of deep sleep and drowsiness.
It was sometime later that I woke again, this time feeling really terrible. I can't describe how I felt except to say the I knew I was on my way out of this world. I didn't think it, I knew it. Again I can only remember bits of what went on, but I asked for my wife to be brought. I was desperate to see her, and desperate is the right word. I remember hearing that, "his potassium levels are very high" and thinking that's the drug they give to people being executed to stop the heart. It seemed ironic to get this far and croak at the last - and I still hadn't seen my wife.
Eventually she arrived, having driven the 40 miles or so to be there. She brought my children too and I'll never forget the looks of concern on their faces, or just how wonderful my wife looked at that moment. I held their hands like there was no tomorrow - as indeed I was convinced there wasn't.
From what I have been told, my family stayed with me all day while I drifted in and out of awareness. It seems that my kidneys had failed to re-start properly and this was causing the problem. Again the staff were on top of the situation, and a dialysis machine was wheeled in and my body prepared for dialysis. In the event the kidneys started to recover after being given many drugs to aid their progress. So a scheduled one days stay in ICU turned into 5 nights, most of which is smething of a blur.
I was discharged from ICU on the Tuesday morning without really having chance to thank the wonderful nurses who cared for me on a one to one basis. How quickly their names are fading. Those I can remember were Adam, Zaraina and Debbie. It's a crazy world when these people that we meet so briefly can have such a profound effect on our lives and just slip into distant dreams. I want to thank all of them here for thier care and compassion.
I was moved from ICU to the High Dependancy Ward and met more wonderful people who treated me incredibly well. Its the little touches that make the difference, the way the breakfast lady made me porridge just for me, the way the nurses smile, and I suppose just the general caring attitude throughout the place. Slowly I grew stronger and was able to take first just a few guided steps, then something really adventurous - a visit to the loo - solo!
My family visited me daily. I dread to think how many miles they put on the car, or the cost of the fuel, but I was so pleased to see them, and so sad to see the leave again.
Finally I took the test that would decide whether or not I went home - the dreaded stair case. Two flights of stairs to be climbed, before being wheeled back to the ward.
I did it!
I knew I was on the home straight then, and became a regular pain asking to be discharged at every second verse. I finally was on Saturday 26th Jan, and rode home in style with my daughter driving me and missing every pothole. Oh man It's great to be home!
We went to Castle Hill as a family. I suppose we must have looked a bit like people on a day trip or something. I checked in and was shown to my room - yes, a private room, not just a bed on a ward. There we waited until one of the nurses did the work up on my history. There followed a succesion of people who more or less asked the same questions and filled in different forms with the answers. The last person to visit was my surgeon, Mr Choudrhi. A small, dapper man he oozed confidence and inspired so much more, in both myself and my family. Some people have the ability to inspire trust on sight, and Mr Choudrhi is one of them. He told us all exactly what would happen and pretty much what to expect. After he left we all looked at each other and came to the same conclusion - I couldn't be in better hands.
Having said all the things families do at such times we parted and they went home leaving me in the capable hands of the nurse in charge, Julia.
The long wait began.
I was collected for surgery the following morning at about 11 am. I climbed on to the trolley and was wheeled away by a jocular porter, cracking jokes all the way while I lay back and watched the ceiling lights pass overhead, just like in the film Coma, and feeling just as out of control.
In the ante room I was hooked up to many lines and drips by another band of wisecracking medics. It seemed almost surreal to me, I was petrified and they thought of so many funny lines that I had no choice but to at least smile. Finally I heard some one say "Just one more", then - nothing.
I vaguely remember coming to and being given instructions to move in various positions to help get the various drains from my body, then slept again. At sometime I awoke and found my family around me. I remember thinking that at least I'd made it, and and the smiles of encouragement from them. Of course we talked, but what of, I have no idea. Time drifted past in a mixture of deep sleep and drowsiness.
It was sometime later that I woke again, this time feeling really terrible. I can't describe how I felt except to say the I knew I was on my way out of this world. I didn't think it, I knew it. Again I can only remember bits of what went on, but I asked for my wife to be brought. I was desperate to see her, and desperate is the right word. I remember hearing that, "his potassium levels are very high" and thinking that's the drug they give to people being executed to stop the heart. It seemed ironic to get this far and croak at the last - and I still hadn't seen my wife.
Eventually she arrived, having driven the 40 miles or so to be there. She brought my children too and I'll never forget the looks of concern on their faces, or just how wonderful my wife looked at that moment. I held their hands like there was no tomorrow - as indeed I was convinced there wasn't.
From what I have been told, my family stayed with me all day while I drifted in and out of awareness. It seems that my kidneys had failed to re-start properly and this was causing the problem. Again the staff were on top of the situation, and a dialysis machine was wheeled in and my body prepared for dialysis. In the event the kidneys started to recover after being given many drugs to aid their progress. So a scheduled one days stay in ICU turned into 5 nights, most of which is smething of a blur.
I was discharged from ICU on the Tuesday morning without really having chance to thank the wonderful nurses who cared for me on a one to one basis. How quickly their names are fading. Those I can remember were Adam, Zaraina and Debbie. It's a crazy world when these people that we meet so briefly can have such a profound effect on our lives and just slip into distant dreams. I want to thank all of them here for thier care and compassion.
I was moved from ICU to the High Dependancy Ward and met more wonderful people who treated me incredibly well. Its the little touches that make the difference, the way the breakfast lady made me porridge just for me, the way the nurses smile, and I suppose just the general caring attitude throughout the place. Slowly I grew stronger and was able to take first just a few guided steps, then something really adventurous - a visit to the loo - solo!
My family visited me daily. I dread to think how many miles they put on the car, or the cost of the fuel, but I was so pleased to see them, and so sad to see the leave again.
Finally I took the test that would decide whether or not I went home - the dreaded stair case. Two flights of stairs to be climbed, before being wheeled back to the ward.
I did it!
I knew I was on the home straight then, and became a regular pain asking to be discharged at every second verse. I finally was on Saturday 26th Jan, and rode home in style with my daughter driving me and missing every pothole. Oh man It's great to be home!
2 comments:
hello. i have just read your blog with interest. my dad is going in the next few weeks for bypass with the lovely mr choudrhi..i know what you mean about him inspiring confidence. my dad is terrified but i'm going to get him to read this..i think it'll really help him. i hope you're still pain free and no more fainting !! thankyou ..jill darcy x
Hello Gill,
Thanks for your comment. You know, your dad couldn't be in better hands. I wish him well, and hope you'll let me know how he goes on. I'll be writing a postscript to the blog shortly, you may find it interesting, so may your dad.
Take care
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