Day 2

I won't do every post day-by-day as later on they get pretty similar and that would be incredibly boring. I know, I know, it's a horrifying thought to think you might miss out on details like the fact that I got WeetBix, scrambled eggs, toast, AND yoghurt for breakfast but only ate the yoghurt yet every burp tasted like eggs, but I don't want to drone on and on.

Day 2, however, is a post of it's own.

Day 2 sucked! Day 1 was bad of course but the anesthesia still running strong in my body kind of protects you from feeling every little discomfort. You know you are in pain, but there is like a hazy blanket that makes you so unaware that its helps.

By Wednesday morning I was a bit more aware of my surroundings and every little ache and pain as well as the nausea, sweating, and headaches. I know I was still pretty out of it and often couldn't respond much but I think it's more of a case that it is too much to interact with the world around you. As long as I had Anthony next to me, and he could tell me our boys were happy and enjoying being with their Aunty and cousins, that was all I really needed. The rest was too much.

I spent the Tuesday night in ICU and when my morning nurse checked my leg strength (this was done CONSTANTLY), she had some concerns. She shared this with the ICU doctor who came over and had a look at my legs and felt my right leg was significantly weaker. My surgeon was contacted and came in. He said he was hopeful it was related to the pain and swelling, but wanted an MRI just in case. He knows my history and with a wry smile said;

"I knew you were trouble when you walked in."

I assume he wasn't referring to the Taylor Swift song as he doesn't really strike me as a fan, but then again Anthony was a Spice Girls fan so you never can tell.

I had to get moved from my bed to one that could transport me to Radiology and then once there, transferred onto the MRI bed. It was horrible. I know my body HATED being moved because I threw up after each movement. On a side note; throwing up whilst lying down - not easy.

I have had about ten MRI scans in my life. My eyes were shut for the majority of this one as it was too much just to keep my eyes open still. For anyone who hasn't experienced the joy of an MRI, you go into a very narrow tunnel and have to lie still while there is lots of loud banging. It takes about 40 mins. I imagine it's a claustrophobics nightmare but with everything else going on, the worse bit for me was just being moved to and from each bed. The trip back also consisted of vomiting - fun fun!

My surgeon checked the scans and said it appeared the swelling was likely the cause as he couldn't see anything glaringly obvious. For this I am very thankful as any other causes would send me back to theatre.

Later that day, I got to be transferred to a ward. The darkened and much quieter room was a welcomed change.

I was still struggling with not being able to keep awake or interact much but it was more peaceful.

A physio came in and asked if I was ready to try standing. He was very cheery and friendly, but not my favorite person at that moment. So with lots of help, I sat up, felt horrible, stood up, felt worse, took a few steps, and went back to bed. My new nemesis said his goodbyes and left me to rest.

Later that evening, after visiting hours had been over for a while, it was time for Anthony to go. I knew he found it hard leaving and I didn't like it when he wasn't there. I told him I wished it could be over and that 4 years ago I said I didn't want to do this again. I said I believed miracles can happen and that's what I wanted - to wake up and it be over. I think the drugs made me a bit irrational ;o)

He leant down next to me and told me what I needed to hear. That I was strong enough for this. That it would be hard but I could do it. That tomorrow would be a bit easier and the day after easier again. I felt at ease and settled for the night.

I remember making a new resolve to try my hardest so that I could get better. To be positive and know that it would improve each day. I know it isn't a big thing, but that chat with Anthony helped in a big way and from the next day onwards, it started to feel like a challenge I could cope with.

Once out of ICU, Anthony was allowed to take photos so here are a few that I was too out of it to know were being taken.

My arterial line was taken out just before I left ICU so one less tube - Not that I really noticed

Holding tight to my Fentanyl button - it never left my hand!

Wound drains - gross!  Just be glad there isn't a catheter bag shot ;o)