Fridays make me freeze
Fridays are a reminder that I've lived in the goodness of God
I don't take these times for granted
It's been challenging
Sometimes the pain is crazy
Especially when I've made up my mind to turn
my body while laying in bed and my body still wants to remain in the same position
But these times are good
It has taught me to be totally dependent on God
Because I've tried and found him reliable and dependable
It would be a waste of time not serving him while alive.
Who's your God?
My God is awesome!
...Puppishgirl.
I was complaining to the Anaesthesiologist about my chest hurting.
"My chest, my heart," I told him.
"Sorry about that," with that he gave me the eleventh or so jab on my right shoulder. I felt it because only the upper part of my body was alive as the anaesthesia had numbed my lower part. Otherwise the shoulder jabs were nothing compared to 'my welcome to surgery injection' earlier.
For the first time in four months, I felt cold. I began to shiver. I looked up at the Air Conditioner, it was just okay. Don't forget I had been battling with hotness within my body that 16 Degrees was so ideal if my body needed to stay comfortable.
When I used to go to work, I would fight with my colleagues because they found the room temperature cold while I found it just okay- thanks to the belly jabs. I felt so sick. While I could not feel any pain in the lower part of my body, my upper part was in a lot of discomfort. I kept looking at the clock. I wanted to hear them say they were done. An hour and half gone already. That did not happen, however, I began to feel sleepy suddenly.
"I'm sleepy."
"Yeah, sleep then," the Anaesthesiologist said rubbing my left shoulder in a comforting way for the fiftieth time, I had lost count.
"I don't want to go to sleep. I want to witness everything. I want to be awake when they stitch me up," I told him.
That was a distant dream that never came true as I drifted off to sleep. I was awakened by the sound of my doctor's voice.
"Elikem, Elikem try to open your eyes." His voice sounded distant, what was going on? I opened my eyes. Although I tried to keep my eyes open, I still closed them.
"Try to open your eyes Elikem," the voice repeated. When I did again, the place looked strange. I was surrounded by lots of medics including my doctor who tried to engage me, by showing me photos on his phone. It felt confusing, couldn't remember where I was. The creamy-painted walls and strange curtains added to my confusion. Where was I? I tried to shut my eyes again.
The nurse mentioned that I looked so beautiful and that she wished I could see myself- I would realise that later. Suddenly I fought to keep my eyes open at the sound of that. My Doctor showed me the pictures from the theatre on his phone.
I drifted off to sleep just then and had to wake up again when my siblings arrived beaming with smiles. The look on their faces was that of excitement. My sister said I looked like a fine girl. All these comments, did it mean this whole thing had taken a toll on me more than I had thought?! I drifted off to sleep, it was hard to stay awake. I woke up again after a couple of minutes. I would come to learn later that I was sedated. I was almost upset to learn I had been sedated. Although the explanation made medical sense and was done for my own good, I had opted to stay up going into thetheatre, I had told my doctor several times. I was too elated to have pulled through to be mad at them for sedating me though.
The anaesthesia began to wear off gradually so I slipped in and out of sleep at very short intervals.
"Welcome back," the woman close to my bed told me. I smiled, managing a low "thank you." It was then that I realised talking hurt and I was actually struggling to speak.
"You were gone for over three hours. Everyone ( the other patients at the small recovery ward we shared) in here kept wondering what was going on with you. You gave me a scare. Was only relieved when the door opened and I saw you on that stretcher being pushed back. Thank God for bringing you back safely."
"Thank you." I managed.
"But why did you keep so long in the theatre? You were gone for over three hours," She indicated. I didn't have an answer to her question, didn't even witness the end of the procedure, I had lost track of time, there was no way I would be able to answer that.
"I'm glad you're back." She added. I just have her a smile.
God if happiness was written on peoples' bodies, if I could jump or dance or lay prostrate or roll on the floor to thank God. I was so happy to be out of the theatre. But I began to feel the pain as the anaesthesia wore off. It was the worse time of my thirty plus stay on earth. Six hours of excruciating pain. Six hours of laying on my back in the same position without being able to turn. Six hours of constantly calling out to the nurses to turn my body or help me turn, only to be told I could not be turned till after six hours. I couldn't even tell which part of my body hurt. My entire body hurt. Now the beeping of that machine connected to me was becoming irritating.
I tried to look on the screen it formed like a triangle sort of, then decreased in number then formed again. Jesus! I was told I had exhausted my prescription of Ivs for the period. I couldn't even cry despite the pain. There was no strength to cry. I was hurting inside, sore all over, crying was only going to further worsen my plight. I was happy to have made it out but this pain...
Every nurse must have come to my bedside to say sorry as I groaned and moaned in pain. The woman close to my bed- she must have felt my pain. She had been through surgery a few days ago too. Each time she would say: "Sorry my sister, it will be over soon." She repeated it till the six hours was probably over- Bless her! I couldn't sleep. I couldn't keep my eyes open. God this thing hurt so much. My Doctor had mentioned the procedure would not been painful. He however prompted me that it would hurt after.
Gradually the longest day of my life, longest six hours of my life ended once my next round of set of Ivs began. That machine was disconnected. Guess I was now out of the woods. To say I was happy is an understatement.
God bless the nurse who cleaned me up after the six hours of excruciating pain following the surgery that morning, Nurse Janet. There are nurses who should not work in recovery. When people wake up from surgery, those taking care of them should elucidate light and warmth. It's awkward enough to feel delicate and vulnerable. It's awkward enough to be feeling strange and have mixed feelings after waking up from the excruciating pain. The first faces you see should be smiley faces. I'm glad I woke up to some.
It was the era of the pandemic where everyone wore a face mask making it impossible to see when someone smiled, but, when people smiled it showed in their eyes. My sister wanted to clean me up, I was more comfortable with her, the nurse however kept repeating to my sister that she wanted to take over her job.
"Wow! You're trying to take over my job." "Oh no. Why would I do that," my sister asked her.
"That's why I'm here, we're here to take care of them, so let me do it," She told my sister.
My sister therefore stepped aside. The nurse cleaned me up. She cleaned my vagina and bum with extra caution. Don't forget the catheter was still on, she emptied my bag of urine as well. She helped me take off my surgical gown and change into my night dress. She also inserted my night suppositories for me. "Thank you." I whispered when she was done, as my voice was barely audible due to the pain when I spoke. I took my first sip- first meal for the day. My last meal was at 5 something pm the previous day. It was warm Lipton without milk and sugar.
I didn't even care. I just sipped it. I was elated to have pulled through. My family left to go home. They must have had quite a long day. Waiting on me in a hospital with limited options, sitting in the car or walking around or sitting at the OPD with all sorts of emotions- my sister told me (They couldn't eat or sit down, they freaked out when I wasn't coming out and the hours dragged on-Chapter 12).
.
However, the lady next to my bed insisted I sat in the chair close to my bed around 9pm. I refused, because I did not want to have to get out of bed with all that pain and that feeling of a band aid around my bottom. She schooled me on how important it was for me to sit down for a while that very day. After telling me how I would only be allowed to go home when I'm fit, and thoughts of how I hated hospitals, I decided I would help myself heal faster. I sat in the chair for a while after dreading the pain. Yes it was painful sitting down, I couldn't really relax in the chair. I sat up straight. Then I had to attempt walking for the first time. I was instructed to walk slowly as it would hurt. It did hurt. It hurt badly, I wish I didn't have to walk. Walking up and down with my bag of pee.
My first walk after the surgery was therefore around 9.30 pm and it was bad. Remember, I walked into the theatre although my right leg hurt, (the pain went away right after surgery) but was wheeled on a stretcher back to the recovery and although I did not see when I was transferred from the stretcher onto the bed because I had still not woken up due to the anaesthesia, I had not walked since that time.
Like a baby learning to take their first step. I would learn to sit, stand and walk properly again over the next couple of weeks. The voice of my Doctor would fill my head as he had seen me on my first review being dropped off by my brother, I walked without assistance from the parking lot but was walking badly, constantly telling me to walk properly else everyone would know there was something wrong with me.
My sister would mimick the way I walked from the day's following the surgery through recovery and remind me that I had improved. I must have lost the way I walk after everything.
The only upside was I no longer had to wait for my turn to see my doctor. The patients were so understanding without having to speak. The mere sight of me and they would let me jump the queue because I would be restless, I would sit for a minute and get up for another. Bless them! I had been to the Doctors so much that the Nurses were my friends and I would sweet talk and plead with them to make me see the Doctor asap. What a pain in the ass I must have been.
To be continued..
#OneDayInApril (Excerpts)
#PostOpDay...
On this journey some people have been really kind to me..from patients, Nurses, Doctors- there were those who did not work in recovery but knew me because of my Mum or had seen me once. They would just come to the recovery to check up on me.
I thank and celebrate God for the precious gift of life, for his mercies each day I've woken up since that 'Friday.'
I celebrate my Doctor, Surgeon and Anaesthesiologist for letting God use them to bless me.
My Doctor for the show of love from the day I walked into his consulting room, for not strucking my name off the list for coming at dawn, to prepping me before the theatre.
My Surgeon: my hero. I was told he moved heaven for me. My other doctor said the surgeon did a good job. I agree. Thank you for leaving me with such an incision despite the initial expectation.
My Anaesthesiologist: I love your wits. Thank you for everything, distracting me, for giving me all those jabs. For playing Joe Mettle all through, for making me learn a new song that I've come to love now.
The Nurses at the Recovery: Some were super nice and caring. From massages when my hand was swollen from taking IVs, to helping me turn in bed to sweet talks. We're able to pull through being vulnerable and staying in the hospital because of them. Bless them!
