I guess my story begins on Monday 1st September when I woke up with a sore throat. Cue absolute panic that I was going to have my surgery cancelled. And I mean panic! Tears and everything. The last time I had a sore throat was back in April. I didn't go to the doctors because, well, what can a doctor do for a sore throat? Eventually by the end of the week, my husband took me to the doctors where I was diagnosed as having a throat infection and a chest infection. I also lost my voice completely for 11 days.
So to wake up with a sore throat the Monday before my surgery, was just bordering on devastating.
I phoned the ward who told me that no matter what, to just come in for admission on Thursday as planned.
I went to see my GP, I got the worst GP to see ever, who had a quick look at my throat with the help from light from the window because his otoscope wasn't working. He proclaimed my throat was a bit red, prescribed me antibiotics and told me that if the hospital got wind of this, they'd be cancelling my operation.
Nice.
With hindsight, really it would have been much better if he had prescribed me something to ease my anxiety. After all, this was big surgery I was facing and I had even said to him 'I'm scared'. But hey ho.
I didn't know if I actually had a sore throat or if it was just anxiety with my upcoming surgery. So I spent Mon, Tues and Weds frantically taking anything and everything to get rid of this throat and 'cold'.
The orthodontist removed my false tooth on the Monday afternoon.
All I could do was wait until I saw the anaesthetist who would tell me if the surgery would go ahead or not; it would be his call.
I honestly couldn't decide what was worse, my surgery being cancelled or my surgery going ahead. If it was postponed, it would impact on work, money, appointments, getting my tooth put back in. If it went ahead, I was faced with the possibility of not making it through. My husband assured me, if I didn't make it through he'd give me a good send off and make egg sandwiches :D :D
Thursday 4th September rolled round. Admission day.
My suitcase was all packed with the following:
2 pairs of pyjamas
4 pairs of knickers
4 pairs of socks
toiletries (including travel size shampoo, shower gel, toothpaste (free sample from the dentist), a soft, small headed toothbrush, hair stuff and a tub of aloe vera Vaseline)
tissues
2 magazines
1 puzzle book
a spare carrier bag for dirty washing
2 porridge pots and a tub of strawberry custard for post-op eating.
clothes for 2 days
slippers
dressing gown was carried as extra
my kindle fire
my mobile phone.
I removed most of my jewelry before heading to hospital.
I also took some photos before I went in.
Surprise surprise, my sore throat disappeared along with 4lbs in weight from stressing!
I was due to arrive on the ward at 2pm. I had previously decided that I was going to take my wee suitcase on wheels and trundle up to the hospital by bus. But the state I was in, my husband took me up to the hospital during his lunch break. He left me sobbing in the day room whilst I had to wait for a be (he wasn't being cruel, he had to go back to work!). I REALLY wasn't sure if I could do this whole surgery thing at all.
At 2pm, I was shown to my bed in a 6 bed area of the ward, overlooking the carpark, and then followed the usual questions from nursing staff. Then the doctor came to do the routine check over. The doctor decided to put a cannula into the back of my hand. There was one doctor and one medical student. The medical student (final year) got his turn first...it HURT! I felt so bad, poor guy. The doctor got round 2 and thankfully got the cannula in. Not pleasant. I am a wuss when it comes to pain. And I hate cannulas, I don't know if I have particularly thin skin or my veins are so close to the skin surface, but once I have one in my hand, I can't use that hand without it hurting.
Once the cannula was in, it was time to take blood. I'm pretty sure they took all the blood from my hand LOL. My poor hand turned blue, it took a while but they got the blood they needed.
Supper time and my last meal arrived. Mince, tatties and sweetcorn and peas followed by apple crumble and custard. Wasn't the best food in the world by any means but ate it because I knew it was going to be the last decent food I could manage.
If you are wondering what I had as my last meal before going to hospital, I had chicken parmesan and spaghetti one night and then a platter of ribs, chicken dippers, garlic bread, dips, nachos, etc the night before that. But because of all my stressing, I didn't actually enjoy any of it.
After supper time, the anaesthetist came to see me. The man I needed to see to tell me that my surgery was still going to go ahead. He was LOVELY! He explained that unless I was coughing stuff up, had a temperature or if I wouldn't go to work in my current condition then everything would be just fine for surgery to go ahead.
He also explained that because of my Pierre Robin Syndrome, he would have to talk to his superior to find out if they would put me to sleep in the usual way or if they would have to intubate me whilst I was still awake using fibre optic intubation. He explained that if they did do fibre optic intubation then I would be given lots of local anaesthetic up my nose and sedation. It didn't sound pleasant but it did sound safe.
I was told that I was first on the list for theatre in the morning.
I was seen by the surgeon who did something with plastic plates??? and I signed the consent form.
I also had to get more blood taken because something went wrong with one of the blood samples from earlier.
In the evening my husband and kids came to visit. I had stopped crying previously but when the time came for them to go, I started crying again. This was going to be a hard bit, seeing them go and me having to stay by myself knowing that I wouldn't see them again until after my surgery; if I got through the surgery that was. I was pretty convinced I wasn't going to make it through. I also thought this was going to be the hardest part of the whole thing, I didn't know if I was strong enough to get through this time.
At about 10pm I had a cup of tea and a slice of toast. I had got my pyjamas on and my TED stockings on. I had also been given a very painful injection in my arm to thin my blood. I was given a sleeping tablet and eventually nodded off.
I woke in the early hours of the morning, as I had been doing for about the past 2 weeks. I kept waking up about 4am in panic....I've now called the hours of 4am - 6am the Hours of Doom.
I was nil by mouth from midnight.
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