I can see a light and hear some voices but I cannot quite understand where I am. Last thing I remember is the eccentric anathatheist trying to get a needle larger then my vein into it. My eyes shutting and the theatre doors beckoning. All of a sudden I feel a hand on my arm and something cold, ice like on my face. I shudder slightly and then hear my name.
I made it then, thank God. The world starts to pour in. My head felt like its doing 360’s on a bmx track as I get prodded and pulled. A sense of anguish sets in as I can feel an aching in my face, a wanting to scratch which is getting too much. I am happily topped up with Morphin which leaves me happily drifting between reality and calm.
The usual spiel, you Surgery was successful, well I guess only time will tell as I have not seen my face yet! The recovery team talk some more and I can hear them but am not really listening or registering anything. I get given some water to drink in a ‘sippy’ cup as you would babies and toddlers and I find it difficult to feel it. My mouth feels locked down and everything else is numb. I do manage to take a few sips and thats when I feel my throat dry and sore like sandpaper. The water feels as though it is cutting it apart! I want to scream but my mouth will not let me.
Inthat moment a sense of regret washes over me, why did I do this? Before I can let my mind go into overdrive, I am drugged up with some more morphin and this repeated a few times till I am drifting, the pain disappears. Before long I’m on the move back to the ward, it’s a long cold corridor from the recovery bay. My only hope is my neighbour has gone home. As I am being wheeled into the ward I see my husband from the corner of my eye.
To my luck I am wheeled into my own room right next to the nurses station. I look to my left and see a card that had been made by my eldest and I smile, for that moment I felt so elated. It gives me a sense of hope and the urge to get better so I can go home to see my babies.
My husband is asked to wait outside so that they can start prepping me. I have oxygen tubes in my nose which need to be reattached, the cold mask is switched back to the ward generator but does not seem to work and they spend an enternity fiddling with it to get it to work. Lastly the automatic blood pressure monitor that continually measures the vital signs as I am prone to low blood pressure.
I finally get to see my husband, who I can tell is slightly taken aback but not showing it. I make a few FaceTime calls as everyone has been on tender hooks and I hear my middle one calling me a ‘monster’ due to mask and bruising. The mask still not working is eventually sorted out after numerous nurses fiddling with the device. Then I get my cannula taken out as it causing to much pain as the needle is sticking out of the vein.
I get a new cannula put in the back of my right hand so that I can have an intervenious drip attached. Having a cannula is irrating but at least it’s not painful each time something is inserted. I am feeling shattered and am staring to drift off so will leave the update for now.
Another thought just entered my head for someone who hates having her photo taken, how am I going to document the change. I almost wish I had not started a blog now as I have always been so conscious of how I look in photos as my lip always droops to one side. You can imagine my horror when I saw my face out of surgery I was expecting okay praying for Angelina Jolie instead I looked as though I had been in the ring with Tyson. Apologies in advance for the disturbing images.