I woke early on the first day after surgery. I felt very hot and thirsty and a bit cramped up at the foot of my wrinkly bed. The oxygen enabled me to breath very well though; my perennial sinusitis dried right out. The 'obs' nurse took my stats and got me to breath deeply for a few breaths. Then came the first of numerous pain killer pills. I took them even though I was pain free as I'd been warned not to wait to be in pain before requesting medication.
My neighbouring lady asked me how I felt. We chatted for a bit then a nurse asked me if I felt able to get up. I was delighted to be allowed to give it a go as I needed the bathroom again. I was very cautious at first as I couldn't really tell what my back was experiencing so it was difficult to assess how much of any movement was too much. I'd had concerns prior to surgery that 'wiping' might be an issue if I wasn't allowed to bend. As it turns out it wasn't but it did require a bit of trial and error as the arms on the over-toilet commode limited knee spread!
Breakfast was a joy as I was ravenous by this stage. I took care to have the healthy options of porridge and fruit juice with some brown toast to follow. I was keen to avoid to gloop issued to other patients to aid 'going'. Strong pain killers have a tendency to 'back one up', hence the gloop.
I was visited by a couple of members of the spinal team later in the morning. They got me to roll over onto my side to check my wounds. I was told that they could see the incisions through the dressings. When I saw a pack of these later, I saw that they were composed of a bi-layer of transparent plastic with a blue honeycomb sponge sandwiched between. I was then asked to roll back onto my back so that they could check my reflexes. I flexed toes, then ankle, and then rotated my feet. Yes, I could feel being tickled by the plastic stick, there, there, and there. The senior surgeon commented that he was surprised at the amount of motion I had and that it normally took most people several days to regain full sensation in their lower limbs.
That afternoon, I stood chatting to a fellow patient for longer than I've been able to stand in the last five years. Standing still had been the most painful posture prior to surgery. I'd considered it a good day if I'd managed three minutes without wanting to kill someone for keeping me waiting. That afternoon I managed twenty minutes before even feeling tired. I was delighted once I realised and reflected on the fact that I'd also been able to walk further than in the last five years and that my posture felt NORMAL!
I was grateful later that I'd obeyed my surgeon and got walking as soon as possible as it let me know that surgery had been the right option. I'd been able to judge my corrected posture, my mobility, and had eliminated worries over one of the possible complications, that of permanent urinary incontinence.
The heat of the ward, the constant need to drink and the endless trips to the loo, and the general noise in the unit meant I go no sleep on day one. Day two was hailed by the arrival of the dreaded butt and lower back swelling. This was not painful per se but did result in some very weird sensations. I was both numb yet fizzy and any movement carried the risk of intermittent sensations like having your butt pinched. It also revealed that my right incision had been bleeding. Bleeding enough to cause my previously sterile dressing to lift off my skin. It was re-dressed and a blood sample was taken to check my blood count and to look for signs of infection. One of my consultant's registrars, Mr Muir, was called to take a look. I only realised much later that he was trying to assess whether I was losing spinal fluid. If I had been, it would have meant another trip to the operating theatre for a procedure akin to applying a puncture repair patch to a tyre. Thankfully this was not required.
I was allowed to sit in a chair for a while and brought a cardboard washbowl and cloth so that I could rinse myself down. The nursing assistant helped me to wash my back as I had to make sure my dressings stayed dry. My surgical gown and bed linen were changed. One of the nurses checked my dressings again and told me she wasn't going to tell me what it looked like. I found this rather perplexing as I hadn't asked! I rested for most of the afternoon. I didn't manage to sleep but did sort of hover on the edge of sleep whilst listening to the hiss of my 'boots'.
My rest was interrupted by a brief visit from that day's physiotherapist. She gave me a sheet that basically covered the same sort of leg and foot exercises you're given on planes to prevent DVT. I took one look and understood why my surgeon had said he didn't want me bothering with them too much as the walking was far more important to my recovery in his opinion.
I was still very hungry so ate like a horse at each mealtime. I made sure to ask for fruit as snacks, knowing that I'd probably be very grateful for having it in the small hours. The pattern of ops, drugs, dressing changes, blood tests, and endless loo trips was set. I got to know the other ladies in my bay a bit. No one else was in for spinal surgery. It was all hips and knees. I also met to the night sister for the first time. She was Albanian and had a wonderfully gentle, kind yet naughty personality.
My neighbouring lady asked me how I felt. We chatted for a bit then a nurse asked me if I felt able to get up. I was delighted to be allowed to give it a go as I needed the bathroom again. I was very cautious at first as I couldn't really tell what my back was experiencing so it was difficult to assess how much of any movement was too much. I'd had concerns prior to surgery that 'wiping' might be an issue if I wasn't allowed to bend. As it turns out it wasn't but it did require a bit of trial and error as the arms on the over-toilet commode limited knee spread!
Breakfast was a joy as I was ravenous by this stage. I took care to have the healthy options of porridge and fruit juice with some brown toast to follow. I was keen to avoid to gloop issued to other patients to aid 'going'. Strong pain killers have a tendency to 'back one up', hence the gloop.
I was visited by a couple of members of the spinal team later in the morning. They got me to roll over onto my side to check my wounds. I was told that they could see the incisions through the dressings. When I saw a pack of these later, I saw that they were composed of a bi-layer of transparent plastic with a blue honeycomb sponge sandwiched between. I was then asked to roll back onto my back so that they could check my reflexes. I flexed toes, then ankle, and then rotated my feet. Yes, I could feel being tickled by the plastic stick, there, there, and there. The senior surgeon commented that he was surprised at the amount of motion I had and that it normally took most people several days to regain full sensation in their lower limbs.
That afternoon, I stood chatting to a fellow patient for longer than I've been able to stand in the last five years. Standing still had been the most painful posture prior to surgery. I'd considered it a good day if I'd managed three minutes without wanting to kill someone for keeping me waiting. That afternoon I managed twenty minutes before even feeling tired. I was delighted once I realised and reflected on the fact that I'd also been able to walk further than in the last five years and that my posture felt NORMAL!
I was grateful later that I'd obeyed my surgeon and got walking as soon as possible as it let me know that surgery had been the right option. I'd been able to judge my corrected posture, my mobility, and had eliminated worries over one of the possible complications, that of permanent urinary incontinence.
...ooOoo...
The heat of the ward, the constant need to drink and the endless trips to the loo, and the general noise in the unit meant I go no sleep on day one. Day two was hailed by the arrival of the dreaded butt and lower back swelling. This was not painful per se but did result in some very weird sensations. I was both numb yet fizzy and any movement carried the risk of intermittent sensations like having your butt pinched. It also revealed that my right incision had been bleeding. Bleeding enough to cause my previously sterile dressing to lift off my skin. It was re-dressed and a blood sample was taken to check my blood count and to look for signs of infection. One of my consultant's registrars, Mr Muir, was called to take a look. I only realised much later that he was trying to assess whether I was losing spinal fluid. If I had been, it would have meant another trip to the operating theatre for a procedure akin to applying a puncture repair patch to a tyre. Thankfully this was not required.
I was allowed to sit in a chair for a while and brought a cardboard washbowl and cloth so that I could rinse myself down. The nursing assistant helped me to wash my back as I had to make sure my dressings stayed dry. My surgical gown and bed linen were changed. One of the nurses checked my dressings again and told me she wasn't going to tell me what it looked like. I found this rather perplexing as I hadn't asked! I rested for most of the afternoon. I didn't manage to sleep but did sort of hover on the edge of sleep whilst listening to the hiss of my 'boots'.
My rest was interrupted by a brief visit from that day's physiotherapist. She gave me a sheet that basically covered the same sort of leg and foot exercises you're given on planes to prevent DVT. I took one look and understood why my surgeon had said he didn't want me bothering with them too much as the walking was far more important to my recovery in his opinion.
I was still very hungry so ate like a horse at each mealtime. I made sure to ask for fruit as snacks, knowing that I'd probably be very grateful for having it in the small hours. The pattern of ops, drugs, dressing changes, blood tests, and endless loo trips was set. I got to know the other ladies in my bay a bit. No one else was in for spinal surgery. It was all hips and knees. I also met to the night sister for the first time. She was Albanian and had a wonderfully gentle, kind yet naughty personality.
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