Vibes

A month ago I went in to hospital to have my hernia repaired.

It was supposed to be day surgery but I packed a bag in case.

Juffin would say that I'm a pessimist but I'm actually a realist.  I've been to hospital many times before.

My hernia was much larger than they thought, no shock to me.  I was under for several hours and spent the afternoon feeling pretty fucking miserable in the planned procedure unit... which is not meant for overnight stay but apparently there were no beds. I had two drains because of the hole left behind after they stuffed my bowel and small intestine back where it was supposed to be.

I stayed there for two days.

At this point I would like to make an observation, please be nice to nurses. They're not arseholes sent to fuck with you, they're just doing their damn job and trying to look after you.  Don't be a dick.

I had sporadic phone reception, one book that I'd finished and no TV.  I was literally starting at the walls.  Juffin was busy kid wrangling and because I couldn't really reach anyone, and had no idea how long I would be there, I didn't reach out for entertainment.  It was the longest two days of my life.

Upon my return home, I realised how much fun it is recovering from major surgery with two children who constantly want to be on you and pull the tube that is still hanging out of your guts.

Yes.  I had to go home with a drain.

The following week I start to feel shady as shit.

I spend Tuesday night in a fever soaked delirium whilst also trying to deal with my teething 15 month old.  Life is good..

On Wednesday, the day my Mum arrives, 9 days after operation, the acute care Nurse who's been visiting me at home, tells me that I look like crap and if my temperature doesn't decrease I should go to the hospital.  After midday Juffin tells me it's time after taking my temperature and it's somewhere in the high 37's.  I text Mum and tell her we're going to Emergency and throw a book, nightie and undies in my bag.  Lucky.

In triage my temperature is 38.9.

Time to invest in a new thermometer.

I spend a few hours in ED, then the Short Stay Unit where I go to have a CT scan, then onto SCDU which means something like surgical criticial decisions unit or some such rubbish.  They're not sure if they need to open me back up see....

I'm taken up there pretty late, around 10ish or something, and the old dude they park me next to gets all ornery and keeps yelling out 'NURSE!  KEEP IT DOWN'.  Oh the irony.  He snores and wakes up frequently asking for coffee/orange juice/sandwiches at regular intervals.  He's an arsehole. If I hadn't been feeling so crap, I would have told him to keep it fucking down.

I spend another night in feverish delirium with Doctor's coming to see me as my temperatures spikes again up near the 39 mark.  I have cold sweats and then shiver uncontrollably.  It's pretty rubbish.

The next day I see my lovely surgeon again who asks me what the hell is going on, I joke and tell him he should have done his job properly so I don't have to be there again.  He puts me on hella IV antibiotics and I get the good drugs and am told I don't need to have more surgery, just need to rest, rehydrate and kill all the bad bugs.

I spend the rest of my time up on Surgical Ward One, in, get this, MY OWN FUCKING ROOM.  I was stoked.  The SCDU nurses said it was because I'm such a good patient, but I think it's because that's all they had, see?!  Realist.

I go home five days later, with the drain still in, yes, I hate that fucking drain.  My Mum is here, Juffin is best fiance/baby daddy ever, and my friends and work colleagues have sent flowers, food, chocolate...

Fast forward to today and I'm feeling beyond defeated.

I had my drain out 12 days ago and was feeling pretty good.

Now I'm not.  I went to my GP this morning as my guts has swollen up again and is tender AF, my legs are aching, I feel fatigued, dizzy spells, I'm not sleeping well and get up 4 times a night... things have gone downhill, again. GP recommended another 2 weeks off work and more rest but here's the kicker, Juffin got a job!  Yes!  And we're so fricking excited and proud of him but he starts next week and I can't look after the kids on my own and my MIL is away. I'm working on shuffling things around but he'll have to drop the kids off at daycare at 6.15 as he has to be at work by 7.  

I need to get better.  I'm sick of feeling like crap.  I'm over Juffin having to do everything while I roll around looking on and feeling helpless.  I feel like a useless turd.  This was supposed to be a day procedure and here I am a month later still feeling like absolute shit.  If I watch any more Netflix I will turn into the Cable Guy.  

Look I know I need to put things in perspective and I know that I need to stop feeling so sorry for myself but I'm currently spending most of my time on the couch watching Mad Men or in bed watching Mad Men and I could really do with some good healthy, healing vibes at the moment.  

And cigarettes.

And Canadian Club.

Ok, maybe not the cigarettes but yes to the Canadian Club.

Leaving hospital for the second time...

Hospital

Earlier this week, I spent eighteen hours in the emergency ward of our lovely public hospital.

Coming off the back of a long weekend, (Australia Day, Oi, oi, oi!!), I woke at some ungodly hour on Tuesday in agonising pain.  Like thought I was in labour again pain.  I was doubled over, clutching at my stomach, thinking that an alien was going to come out of my abdomen, because there's no way that I've been walking around growing a baby for the last nine months and I just didn't know about it!

After writhing around for a few hours, (crying, screeching, clutching at the sheets), Juffin convinced me that it was time to seek medical assistance.  I grudgingly agreed.  There was no way that this could be normal gastro pain.  I was just hoping that it would go away after a few hours.  It didn't.

Thinking that it wasn't quite emergency ward hospital status, I tried unsuccessfully to contact my GP a few times.  At this point I was grunting every time we hit a bump on the road.  Juffin was gripping the steering wheel and glancing over at me every two seconds, whilst the Mushroom was babbling away in the back.  The whole drive, I kept thinking about going to the hospital when I was in labour.  It wasn't a pleasant experience.

I finally get through to my GP.  Except he's on holidays.  Of course he is. I ask if I could get in with another Doctor asap as I'm not doing so well.  She is suitably concerned and puts me through to the nurse who advises me to go the hospital.

We do.  After dropping the Mushroom off at daycare.  Where he is very unhappy to be dropped off by his Daddy.

At Emergency I catch a break and a girl I know is working triage.  She takes me straight through.  Huzzah!  Except no-one knows what's wrong with me.  Poked, prodded, scanned, tested; ruling out miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, gastroenteritis, appendicitis, gall bladder issues..... the list goes on.  At one point, I start thinking there really is nothing wrong with me.  It's psychosomatic.  I have literally stressed myself out so much that I've manifested abdominal pain.

Twelve hours after arriving, we have a diagnosis.  Finally.  I am admitted, but spend another five hours in emergency where they pump me full of drugs and don't let me drink anything in case I need to go into theatre soon.  Juffin has organised for his Mum to take the shroom and he's staying the night at her place.  Juffin is being stoic and lovely but I send him home as he's clearly tired and hungry and there's no point in him sitting around being uncomfortable in a hard ass plastic chair.  At least I have a semi-comfortable bed to lie in.  

The verdict is, I will need surgery, but thankfully, I'm not dying.  Ironically, though we do have health insurance, we don't have the money to pay the Doctor's out of pockets to go through the private system so I'm now on a waiting list. Even more ridiculous is that when I wake on Wednesday in the ward, I have no pain.  Gone.  Like the day before never happened.

It's still another eight hours until I get to go home and the worst part of all of this is being separated from the Mushroom.  It's like an ache all day.  I can't wait to see him and squeeze him tight.

As a result of this little setback, we also have to put off our plans to get pregnant with baby number two.

This year sucks man.  I woke up on New Years Day with a head cold and it hasn't stopped.  A super infection, gastro, headaches, tiredness, money woes and now this.  I'm over it and February has only just begun.

It's hard to be positive when everything sucks the nut.  So here's the good news.  I finally got some info about study, and looks like I'll be starting that fairly shortly.  And I also took my first order for cupcakes on Valentine's Day.  It's not all doom and gloom!

Unwell

On New Year's Day I woke up with wretched cold.  Unlike New Year's past, excessive drinking/cigarette smoking had nothing to do with me feeling like crud.

It was awful.  I had blocked up nose, headache, red scratchy eyes, I was aching all over and so very tired.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, I still can't decide which, the Juffin was home from work so he could look after the little one.  The majority of the time this involved hanging out in the lounge room making as much noise as possible (lounge room adjacent to master bedroom) and having the TV too loud.  Intermittently there would be periods of silence followed closely by bangs and crashes, hysterical crying, cooing and then into the bedroom for cuddles with Mum.

Sometimes whilst I was half delirious I'd feel a sticky hand on my leg and grunting and had to stop myself from giving a knee jerk kick back.  Towards the end of the second day of Jess' plague, Mushroom could not be ushered out of the bedroom for love or money (read apple rice crackers or bananas) and just hung out annoying the f out of me whilst I was trying to rest.  Climbing all over me demanding breastfeeds and kicking me in the face is not my ideal sickness recovery situation.

I suggested halfheartedly a few times that the two of them piss off and leave me the hell alone but it was so hot out and that would require putting pants on, so stuck with them I was.

By Saturday I was feeling better.  Not 100%, but better.  I'm a mother, I'll be tired for the rest of my life, but I was feeling okay to face the world.  We went out and did some shopping, got some food, stocked up on toilet paper, you know, the essential stuff. Ready for another working week.

Except my body had other ideas.  This week, my health decided to desert me.  I'm not going to share the details of my illness, because a) it's gross, b) my sister told me not to because see a and c) I think I share way too much online as it is so I'm going to keep this private.  For once.  Needless to say, I have been very sick and that stupid cold last week was just a trial run.

And no, touch wood, praise diety, I do not have cancer.

Nor am I pregnant.

My first visit to the Doctor was on Tuesday, prescribed antibiotics blah blah blah.  Got up for work on Wednesday and did not feel good at all.  Decided to pull myself together and push on through so hauled ass to work. After two hours I was back at the Doctor who prescribed more medication, gave me a medical certificate and told me to go home and REST.  Very strenuous on the rest part.  I rang Juffin in tears because it was all too much for me.  I was feeling awful with a capital A, tired and stressed, and worried about the Mushroom.  My stupid roly poly body was just about to break down and all I wanted to do was cry, sleep and vomit all at the same time.

Thankfully my lovely Juffin saw that this illness would require actual rest and recuperation.  It was just a little bit more serious than a head cold so he arranged for his Mum to watch the Mushroom for a few days whilst I got some sleep.  My Doctor ordered rest, so who was the Juffin to argue?

This week was the first time I have been alone in my house since before I had the Mushroom.

On Wednesday I slept for 4.5 hours straight.  During the day.  Uninterrupted.  It was amazing.  I got up and ate some dinner prepared by Juffin, read the Mushroom a story, tucked him into bed, and went back to bed myself.

On Thursday Juffin took the Mushroom to his Mum's house, and I went back to bed and slept for another 4.5 hours.  During the day.  Alone.  Uninterrupted.  I even slept in the middle of the bed.

Amazeballs.

I have a few more days off to recover, and I'll probably need them.  I had the Mushroom today and he ran me ragged so I'm ready for bed and it's only 9pm.  Verdict is, I still feel like crap and I still look like crap but I'm so thankful that it's nothing more serious and in a few days, or even next week, I'll feel so much better and I'll make a full recovery.

I hugged my little boy a bit tighter tonight as I am so grateful for my family's good health.  The older I get, the more I realise how precious every moment is.  To appreciate the little things.  To savour the cuddles I'm lucky enough to have with both of my boys.  Some people don't have anyone to cuddle.  Some people who are fighting illness won't recover.  Some people will never feel well again.  I'm just thankful that I will.

So grateful for this little kook!