Update

So here I am a week into my return from hospital. I've finally gotten around to adding something here and putting some back dated posts up so if you want to know what has been going on just check the last 4 or 5 posts.

I'm still in pain, espacially at night, but nothing that I can't live with and it's improving all the time. I'm still not sleeping through but again this is improving. Overall I can't beleive just how well I feel at the moment, I thought I would still be pretty much bed bound at this stage.

Not that I've been doing much. Gill and I popped up to the Silverlink Retail Park yesterday for a mooch around Border Books for enjoyment and the various electrical retailers looking for a new answerphone and a printer for the computer. We must only have been out of the house for an hour or so but I was jiggered by the end of it. It was nice to be out of the house though.

No Place Like....

I got home today and already I feel a million times better for it. My life is now my own to control, well OK it’s Gill’s to control but, hey, close. I still can’t believe that 5 days after such major surgery I sitting in my own house surrounded by the things that make me feel comfortable. God it’s good.

I left the ward this afternoon carrying what looked like one of those American, brown paper, shopping bags packed to the gunnels with pills of every kind. I’m still not convinced by my pain control but I am convinced that if I had stayed on the ward any longer I would have got an infection or died of boredom.

Home Run?

I had a better night last night, not a good one by any means, but better. I still woke with pain although perhaps only an 8 on the scale and with the help of some extra meds was able to get back off to sleep for a fitful but needed hour and a half. I was by this point quite knackered through the day and was able to snatch a couple of hours just lying on my bed which did help. It has now been 4 days since my surgery and I was thrown something of a curve ball by the medics, would I like to go home today? What? Did I just hear you right, home? I didn’t know what to say, of course I wanted to go home but I didn’t think my pain was suitably controlled yet, what should I do?

In the end I opted to stay on the ward for another night to try and get some more control of the pain. I didn’t feel sufficiently confident to trust my care to the current meds with no chance of an extra shot of something if required. I think this was the right decision to make it would have been unfair on Gill to put her in the situation of panicking about my meds. So I condemn myself to another day of boredom and stale hospital air.

Ouch

Pain. Such a simple word and yet such a complex beast. Throughout my care I had been pain scored on a scale of 1-10, where I had to judge at which level my pain currently stood. As a general rule I had scored myself at about 3 for most of my stay, last night I would have put that score at about 15. I had woken at about 2:30 it absolute paralysing agony, the sort of agony that made both reaching for my buzzer to call a nurse, or even just shouting out, a physical and mental impossibility. As I lay there I would have quite happily have had someone push me out of my 4th floor window if they had told me it was the best thing to relieve the pain, no hesitation. I can’t sit here and describe exactly how I felt but the pain robbed me of all rational thought and took me to a place I hope I never have the misfortune to visit again.

After an hour and a half of moving my body a millimetre at a time I was able to get the attention of a nurse who kindly went out of her way to secure me a huge dose or oral morphine. This did manage to take the edge off the pain, reducing it to a measly 9, and I spent the rest of the night out of bed propped up in my chair. The medical staff were a little surprised that I had suffered so badly and endeavoured to ease my pain by adding….Ibuprofen. Wasn’t convinced myself, I have to say. Still maybe tonight with an extra days healing under my belt things wouldn’t be so bad.

Chit Chat

I was encouraged to be more mobile today despite the number of tubes and bags attached to me and started to potter around the ward. I was feeling much better today and was moving quite freely but it still came as some thing of a surprise when, at tea time, the medical staff decided that my painkilling and anaesthetic drivers could be removed and that I should be able to cope on oral medicaton. So I started on a course of Paracetamol and Codeine, sounds a bit ‘headachy’ doesn’t it?

The beds in the ward were filled with chest patients who had all undergone various procedures and were at various stages of their care pathway. We all got on well as a group and before long, as happens when you get a bunch of blokes trapped together, we were soon putting the world to rights. It’s funny how a place like hospital becomes a great leveller and all ideas of social position are discarded as everyone is crushingly brought to the same level by a combination of bad pyjamas and intrusive investigations. The four of us covered the spectrum from very obviously upper middle class to lower working class yet we never once found it hard to find a topic of conversation and, somewhat amazingly, steered clear of the most controversial topics such as politics and religion.

Werewolves and Angels

Fleeting memories return now and again of my first evening in Intensive care: I remember Gill’s comforting presence; I remember the uncomfortable feeling of the ventilator tube in my throat and Gill tells me I made several motions to the effect of wanting the damn thing out; I remember getting tingling in my fingers a toes that would cause me to wiggle them which, Gill tells, me looked as if I was waving to everyone in the ward; I remember the miming of pulling a pint, but not why and I remember miming the actions of a werewolf after someone mentioned there was a full moon.

At some point through the night my ventilator was removed as I was able to breathe for myself and started to become more aware of my surroundings. First thing that struck me were the number of tubes coming out of me. I had a catheter for my urine, a drain removing blood and fluid from my chest, venous access in my neck, groin and right wrist (x2) and a line delivering local anaesthetic directly into my wound site.

Looking after this mess, and the tubes, was an angel by the name of Elaine. She efficiently ensured everything was flowing where it should and that if it wasn’t the problem was sorted instantly. But this was no cold efficiency, it was all done with a warmth and care I shall cherish for the rest of my living days and not just for the care she gave me. Gill was full of praise for the way Elaine worked and said that the only reason she didn’t stay overnight with me was the confidence instilled in her by the sheer professionalism exhibited by Elaine. She was in no doubt I could have received any better care.

As the day progressed Shona and Jane took over my care and the high standards continued. Working as a pair it was good to see the way newly qualified Jane was encouraged and guided by the more experienced Shona and this highlighted the exceptional level of communication skills on show within the Unit. I don’t think it would be a bad idea for all staff to spend some time in the presence of ICU staff to explode the myth that talking to patients and fellow staff at every opportunity takes up valuable time, on the contrary I’m sure, as I’ve always been, that in the long run this approach saves both the staff and patient time.

Well all good things must come to an end and, dosed to the eyeballs, late this afternoons I was transferred to the post surgical ward after being judged as being past major risk. So off to ward 30 it was and despite some drug induced panic on my behalf regarding my morphine dose, addiction setting in?, I settled in nicely and promptly fell asleep.

Sliced and Diced

And so to the morning of my surgery, except it wasn’t. No I was actually having my surgery in the afternoon now so some more of that waiting stuff had yet to be endured. Arthur was the first of the three to be called for at about 9:30 and Patrick and I wished him the best of luck as he was wheeled toward theatre. He left with a smile on his face and a look of utter relief that there would be no cancellation for him this time. This left Patrick to sit and talk before Gill and his Mom arrived to help offer moral support.

Patrick was due in for his surgery at 2:30 and to be honest wasn’t looking forward to it I the slightest. He wasn’t really able to put his finger on why beyond the feeling he was suffering from ‘fear of the unknown’. I tried to offer some of my experience and knowledge about the workings of hospitals and just what goes on in them and I think I helped clear up a couple of misconceptions he was under and ease his trepidation a little. I think at this point I realised just how helpful working in the Hospital had been for me and I was able to dissect the information give to me, cutting out the crap and concentrating on the facts. I was helped by the knowledge that despite my condition and it’s repair being total outside my ken it was just very much routine for the team who would be looking after me.

Prep for the surgery required me to have a shower at 10:00 using Hibiscrub. Hibiscrub is the bright, pink stuff you see by every sink in hospitals in square plastic bottles and I think carries the quintessential hospital odour. Yep, when people tell you that something smells like a hospital what they usually mean is that it smells of Hibiscrub. Duly refreshed I was also required to put on my gown which was of the usual ’flash your arse’ variety and remain in my bed from that point on.

11:00 saw the arrival of my pre-med and at this point I think I thought for the first time that this was really going to happen. I really was going to undergo major surgery, let someone slice open my side, collapse my lung and start slashing my bodies main artery with a scalpel. This was big and there was no going back now but still I felt no fear, only a desire for it to be over with. Gill accompanied me to the theatre doors and I remember about 2 minutes of conversation with the theatre staff before….nothing.

I'm In

Today I made the trip up to Freeman Hospital for my 10:30 appointment on ward 27, which is the pre-surgical assessment ward. I wasn’t exactly sure as to just what assessments were due to be carried out but I figured if they needed a whole day to get them done I was going to be visiting every department in the Hospital. Of course that wasn’t the case and in the end all the assessments could have only taken an hour and a half to complete. I think the real reason for getting me in a day early was to introduce me to something I was to become intimately familiar with, interminable waiting.

Because of the proximity of the Easter weekend many operations had been rescheduled due to the absence of key staff so the ward was only half full. I shared my 6 bedded unit with a 72 year old chap from Durham called Arthur who was due to have a cancerous lung removed and a 26 year old from Newcastle, Patrick, who had been rushed in after discovering the reason for his recent poor performances on the football pitch were down to a collapsed lung. It was Arthur who regaled Patrick and I with horror tales of waiting around information less as the whole world seemed to ignore us in our isolated little six bedder. In fact Arthur was only here because his operation had been cancelled a fortnight ago due to a complication in the operation preceding his meaning the theatre time over-ran considerably and there was no time to fit him in.

As always happens in situations like this my visitors, Gill, Mam and Dad, were waiting for me as I returned from having a chest x-ray. The ward had an open visiting philosophy which was great as it allowed Gill to spend most of the day with me, easing a bit of the tension we were both feeling. Again, somewhat typically, the nurse specialist, Amanda, visited during the short period when she was away from the ward. Amanda was checking to make sure I was having no last minute panics and to give a rough timetable for tomorrows events, it looked like I was first on Mr Hasans list so an 8:30 start was likely. Amanda promised to return with the surgeon as he made his rounds later.

Gill was at my bedside when Mr Hasan and Amanda arrived a couple of hours later to check how I was allowing her to ask some of the questions we had only been able to speculate on previously like what ward was I likely to be transferred to after Intensive Care and just how long was I likely to be in Intensive Care. I couldn’t have cared less but the information was important to Gill. In fact I was being very blasé about the whole thing taking the attitude that this was something that I had to go through regardless so whatever happened happened and I was just going to react to situations as they arose. I’m pleased I took this point of view because I do believe it helped maintain my sanity over the following week.

Thanks must also go at this point to my youngest sister Lisa who popped in to see me and did a mighty fine job of maintaining my spirits. She was planning to introduce our parents to her new beau that week, a beau who was in his early fifties with kids, Lisa is currently in her mid thirties. Oh boy I wish I could be there.

At Last

Well I think the last two days have taken their toll and I’m not heading to the beer fest today. Yesterdays trip was very enjoyable and I think I’ve tasted everything I had wanted to anyway so being absolutely pooped I’m going to give it a miss. I also don’t want to push my body too far; I don’t think it will react well to much more pushing. Plus There is a very good reason why this is a sensible decision, more of which later.

Our day started as usual yesterday with a trip to the Deli counters of Fenwick’s to stock up on food for in-fest picnic. The picnic has become something of beer fest folklore and we are often asked what delights we have to eat by the staff as we enter. There is a hot food counter in the hall but, hey, we like to be different and despite there being a ban on people bringing in their own food we get away with it every year. This year we had a selection of humus and other dips with plenty of crisps etc to mop up the sloppy goodness, a selection of different olives and some deli prepared sandwiches. Normally we would buy bread and filling to make up our own at the fest but I think we were feeling lazy this year.

Billy and I worked our way through the beers as the girls tackled the cider stall. The advantage the girls have is that not only have they been stalwarts of said stall for several years but my sister Lisa also works on the stall. This means they tend to get a number of freebies throughout the course of the fest and get served instantly no matter how large the queue. Not that you have to wait long to be served and we sampled everything we wanted to. Highlights of the fest included Sarah Hughes Dark Ruby (good every year), Fernandes Newky Black (brewed especially for the fest) and Marble Chocolate Heavy.

So why was it a sensible decision to stay away from the alcohol? Well this morning I received a phone call from my Surgeons secretary asking if I could come in on Wednesday the 12th with a view to having my surgery on the Thursday. So feeling both excited and somewhat nervous at the same time this may be the last time you hear from me for a while, like you would notice the difference. In the very unlikely things don’t go well, and just to wind Gill into an even greater state of stress, I like to say thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this blog for the last 9 months, it’s been a blast.

Hot And Sweaty

Yesterday was a busy day, not only was it the first day of the 30th Newcastle Beer Festival it was also the night of the Drive By Truckers gig at the Cluny in Byker. I can’t remember the year of my first beer festival but it would have been sometime in the mid Eighties when it was held at the Guildhall down on the Quayside. Almost every year from that time on I have attended at least a day at the festival and latterly have taken to booking the time off work to allow me to attend every session. The only time I failed to attend was a couple of years during the early Nineties when I was disillusioned with the whole ‘beer thing’ and couldn’t be bothered to turn up.

This year’s festival was held once again at Newcastle University in the large concert hall. Despite the gig Gill, Billy, Steph and I were determined to get at least an hour or so’s drinking in before heading over to Byker. We arranged to meet up outside the University ¼ of an hour prior to opening and thus ensuring the maximum supping time. Getting into the hall we quickly made our way to the bar and got the first halves in, no pints allowed in the beer fest. First impressions are good with a number of dark beers on the list and a couple of potential ‘best beer of the festival’ candidates already.

Off to the gig we all piled into a taxi, well two actually because there were no five seaters anywhere to be found who were prepared to go to Byker for some reason. Despite having drank at the Cluny numerous times previously none of us had ever attended a gig there so were unsure what to expect. As it turns out the room reminded me a bit of a ¼ sized Riverside, all exposed brickwork and beer tacky floors. Crammed into this rather small space were a good couple of hundred punters creating an atmosphere something akin to a Turkish Baths. As ever we seemed to get stuck behind the six foot four biker and his bigger mate. I could tell Gill was already reacting badly to the surroundings, not liking the claustrophobic feeling she gets at gigs like this.

The Truckers came on stage to a very good reception and launched into their set without any preamble. One song quickly followed another with no inter song banter and by the time the fifth tune was starting up Gill made her excuses and left to find a more air spot accompanied by Steph. The set was great mix of old favourites and tracks off this months new CD, in fact they must have played a good six or seven of their new tracks through the course of the gig. The got a rapturous reception from the crowd of mainly balding chaps with ages and waistlines in the low to mid forties.

The sound was not bad considering the size of the room and for those of you yet to enjoy the DBT experience they sound very like a Tom Petty fronting a sixties version of the Rolling Stones after they had all popped several downers. Looks wise I can only really speak for the 3 guitarists/vocalists and then only from the waist up due to a restricted view. Mike Cooley looked like the bastard child of Harry Dean Stanton and Keith Richards, Jason Isbell a very young, plump Jimmy Page and Patterson Hood a strange blend of Blue Oyster Cult’s Eric Bloom and dodgy UK comedian Rory McGrath. As for drummer Brad Morgan and bassist Shonna Tucker, who knows, I couldn’t see them. In all they played for two and a quarter hours with standout numbers being Decoration Day, Space City and A World of Hurt.