Jiving on Regardless











{July 20, 2009}   Memory 2

Blimey, I have just come on here to write my next Memory Blog and thought I was on Memory 3, turns out this is actually Memory 2.  I think I have written it so many times in my head I thought I had actually done it already but no, and now is the time.

So, the pain.  Yes the pain.  Not an experience I shall forget in a hurry.  I had had a pretty good first day in terms of comfort but at about 5.15pm on day 1 I suddenly started to get the most horrendous contraction type pains in my stomach.  They went from 1-10 on the pain scale in about 10 minutes.  It was a kind of pain I have never experienced before and now live in terror of ever having to experience again.  I never thought I was going to die as I had too much faith in my life to believe that but I definitely questioned how on earth someone could survive such levels of pain.  I have discovered that the human body and mind is truly amazing and can tolerate the most indescribable levels of pain and survive.

Thus the screaming and demands for pain relief started and continued for THREE HOURS!  For three hours I writhed in true agony whilst they tried with no success to locate my consultant anaesthetist. It had to be him as I was a private patient and on call consultants aren’t allowed to do anything to private patients with out their ‘paid’ consultants’ say so.  My Consultant Anaesthetist had buggered off for the weekend (supposedly to deal with a family problem which he neglected to tell anyone else about).  My Surgeon turned up and said that he had no idea what was causing the pain as the surgery had gone to plan and there was no infection or problem with the wound.  He tried to tell me to calm down – hmmm, you can guess that didn’t go down well.  My surgeon couldn’t write up for pain relief until they had spoken to the Consultant Anaesthetist – honestly, sometimes NHS bureaucracy does not have the patient’s best interests at heart.

They eventually located my anaesthetist who directed the on call anaesthetist to have a look at me and report back.  The on call anaesthetist came in and asked me about the pain.  My response included a number of expletives and the most assertive directive to ‘just stop the pain’.  My husband tried to explain the situation and that I had been writhing around in pain for hours.  The anaesthetist responded with abrupt rudeness which absolutely infuriated me at which point I told him ‘don’t you dare be so f***ing rude to my husband.  He has sat there watching me in agony for hours now, wondering if I am going to die and you DARE to speak to him like that?!  Just get me some F***ing pain relief!’.  He went out sheepish to say the least.  The next thing I hear is him on the phone talking to the Consultant Anaesthetist explaining my situation.  He then came in and explained that I was to be put onto a morphine pump.  I felt a millisecond of relief until he told me that it would take about half an hour to locate one, write the morphine script, get the morphine from pharmacy and set the pump up.  At which point, yep, you guessed it, my fowl mouth revved up again and I told him in no uncertain terms that I could not possibly wait that long (NB I only EVER use fowl language when in extreme duress, it has to be VERY bad for me to speak to anyone like that). The pain I was in was FAR worse than natural childbirth, which I have done twice with no pain relief.  He went off and made another phone call and then came in to administer 5mls morphine directly. It took 15mls of morphine to finally take the pain away and see me calm before the morphine pump was in place.  Oh the relief – I will never, ever forget the feeling of having that agony taken away – at this point I loved morphine.

My Surgeon came back once I was calm and said again that he had no idea what had happened but that he wasn’t concerned as things really had gone well and I was going to be fine.  It was probably (and has since been confirmed) a result of reduced pain relief due to the previous nights low blood pressure problem.  I was told to sleep.

After many presses of the morphine pump I eventually fell asleep.

Next thing I know there are alarms going and a nurse is frantically trying to wake me up. I was groggy and in a deep slumber.  Once I came round fully conscious it turns out I had only been asleep for about 30 minutes during which time the nurses had changed shift.  A nurse had come in seen me looking pretty awful and in a deep sleep and thought I was unconscious and dieing!  My Mum and N who had been sat watching me tried to explain to her that they had been told that I must be left to sleep and that I was fine as my pulse monitor was on to which the nurse had replied ‘Get out of the way I have to wake her up she is dieing’ – you can imagine how this made my Mum and N feel.  Panic over, I was fine, I had merely been asleep. Horrendous nursing.

Now I was awake and distressed and I needed more morphine so I spent an hour pressing the pump and at midnight told my Mum she could go home as I was finally going to go to sleep.

Half and hour later I woke up in the most frightening of states…

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