I'm home sans the thyroid (unat*)
They sent me back home last night, almost 36 hours after I left here all scrubbed for surgery. It went well I heard. Thrice the time it should have, and nobody bothered to tell mum, Geoff, Khadi, Kaaeed and Jack when it was done, why it took so long and what happened. All questions to be asked at next week's sutures removal.
I'm grateful to those of you who didn't follow my diktats. Seeing your faces and hearing your voices as I drifted in and out of consciousness kept me feeling positive. Mum kept me updated on all the calls and caring queries. I do remember holding your hands and I remember your scent. It was near midnight when I awoke to the delirium.
What followed will probably be the longest night of my life. I'd sleep for what seemed like hours and wake up to see the clock (that had insensitively been fixed on the wall in front of the bed), had only moved a minute. I'd be awake and nauseous and in pain for what seemed like hours and the hand only moved a few minutes, sometimes seconds. I spent the night awake, in a whirlpool of fear and exhaustion, trying to focus on the poster Geoff had drawn and pinned on the wall, and not on the 30min visits the nurses made to measure the girth of my neck. They picked every vein in my body, either for the IV or to take blood again and again and again.
Still, I'm alive and they say it went well. (Kaaeed took this picture the morning after, it's rumoured that I was high on morphine). That's what matters. I also realise how horribly selfish I must sound. Every woman who undergoes a C Section must awake to this sort of pain. Kids often have to go through series of these and don't have a choice. I can't diminish my own pain, but I must remember it is always relative.
Healing will take some time. I smell, I'm not allowed to bathe and my stomach HURTS. Swallowing, even my own saliva, feels like sipping crushed glass. I'm trying to avoid the T3 but I had to take one last night. I have this fear that my sutures will burst open if I lie the wrong way. DQ or what?
Unfortunately I cannot sing as I thought I might (and couldn't before either). My voice is the same, though a bit stunned and raspy. The parathyroids survived. I find out what the full biopsy uncovered in a week. I had a short cry last night. I'm lucky. The worst is over though (I hope).
* ask Geoff
I'm grateful to those of you who didn't follow my diktats. Seeing your faces and hearing your voices as I drifted in and out of consciousness kept me feeling positive. Mum kept me updated on all the calls and caring queries. I do remember holding your hands and I remember your scent. It was near midnight when I awoke to the delirium.
What followed will probably be the longest night of my life. I'd sleep for what seemed like hours and wake up to see the clock (that had insensitively been fixed on the wall in front of the bed), had only moved a minute. I'd be awake and nauseous and in pain for what seemed like hours and the hand only moved a few minutes, sometimes seconds. I spent the night awake, in a whirlpool of fear and exhaustion, trying to focus on the poster Geoff had drawn and pinned on the wall, and not on the 30min visits the nurses made to measure the girth of my neck. They picked every vein in my body, either for the IV or to take blood again and again and again.
Still, I'm alive and they say it went well. (Kaaeed took this picture the morning after, it's rumoured that I was high on morphine). That's what matters. I also realise how horribly selfish I must sound. Every woman who undergoes a C Section must awake to this sort of pain. Kids often have to go through series of these and don't have a choice. I can't diminish my own pain, but I must remember it is always relative.
Healing will take some time. I smell, I'm not allowed to bathe and my stomach HURTS. Swallowing, even my own saliva, feels like sipping crushed glass. I'm trying to avoid the T3 but I had to take one last night. I have this fear that my sutures will burst open if I lie the wrong way. DQ or what?
Unfortunately I cannot sing as I thought I might (and couldn't before either). My voice is the same, though a bit stunned and raspy. The parathyroids survived. I find out what the full biopsy uncovered in a week. I had a short cry last night. I'm lucky. The worst is over though (I hope).
* ask Geoff
Hey you, I might be far away in body, but I am right next to you in spirit. Remember when I had my ears pinned. Could. Not. Swallow. I feel your pain. Although I am sure it is about 30 times worse than anything I imagine it to be. On the bright side, look at it this way - you could not really carry a tune before. Maybe this will be an improvement. If not, I will just make you karaoke with me and laugh until I cry at your rendition of Single Ladies.
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