So it has been forever since my last post. Well things have been rather hectic.
So let me start from the beginning.
Last time I wrote I had devastatingly just lost a baby. Lets fast forward a couple of short months.
At the beginning of December, my partner had an upcoming operation so I was due to stay with him to help him while he recovered. Two days before the fateful operation day I woke up several times in the night feeling so bloated I couldn't lie on my stomach. I love sleeping on my stomach, I am unsure how anyone else sleeps in any other position, weirdos!
I had had enough, I couldn't stay in bed any longer, so up I got. Toddled off to the bathroom, to take a wee. A few minutes later I staggered back to the bedroom, stooped down next to my sleeping partner, and gently called his name. He stirred. I held out my hand towards him. "You better survive your surgery on Wednesday, because you will have a baby to look after" whilst a shaking hand held out the positive test.
"Yeah?". And he fell back to sleep.
A say somewhat louder "is that the best you can come up with?"
"I thought you were holding a needle and going to inject me with drugs, I was scared!"
"What?! Then why didn't you try moving or something? You are scared of needles"
"I dunno, I was really tired, congratulations!"
Not the excitement I was expecting!!
Two days later, it was surgery day. It was only a tonsillectomy but I was scared for him. I had had a tonsillectomy myself some years before and it most definitely wasn't a pleasant experience. I almost died on the operating table, then suffered a lovely infection that paralysed my entire face and I could only scream. Let's just say it wasn't a pleasant experience and move on.
So we were supposed to be at the hospital for 8am. They rang us to say they would call later in the day to let us know what time to turn up as they had a lot of surgeries booked. At 3pm they called to say we could go in and eventually at 5pm they were finally ready for him to go down to theatre.
I kissed him tenderly goodbye outside the theatre doors, trying not to cry from anxiety and hormones. I didn't want him to suffer like I did. As soon as he went through those double doors I took a few steps down the hallway back to his ward and broke down in tears. Crazy thoughts kept running through my head. What if he died during surgery and I was left a single mum? But then what if all this stress made me lose yet another baby? I tried to pull myself together and stumbled back to the ward and waited for news. It wouldn't be long, I was out of surgery and back in my room within 40 mins when I had it.
A lifetime had passed. Well actually, nearer two hours. And every minute was slow, drawn out, angst-ridden. I went to the reception desk. "Erm, my partner went down for surgery almost two hours ago now, is there any news yet?"
"he's still in surgery, I don't think people ever realise how long a tonsillectomy takes!"
"I was only in surgery 20 mins when mine were taken out 5 years ago"
"Yes well..."
"I went and sat back down. What on earth was taking so long!!"
40 mins later and I was a total wreck, but I heard a trolley being wheeled down the corridor. Ears pricked I listen carefully awaiting the bed to materialise. There he was on the bed, sat up like a sultan arriving on an elephant. I ran over and kissed his cheek. "I have been so worried about you, you were forever!"
"I knew you would be, I've been awake for about an hour and a half but the staff were busy so I've just been sat in recovery waiting".
We sat chatting for hours, him slightly high on the drug cocktail they had him on. I had missed that dopey face of his, that hair with the white streak, those beautiful eyes... After a while I knew it was time for me to go, the rest of the ward were winding down for the night and although I was desperate not to leave him, I kissed him goodbye and left.
I jumped in a taxi and went to Travelodge, texting each other as I went. I realised I hadn't eaten all day. That can't be good for the baby! So ordered a pizza, and booked myself in for the breakfast buffet in the morning. It was necessary for the baby, right? Finally, after eating my pizza I sloped up to the room and climbed into bed. I slept well and awoke panicked. I checked my phone and the man was awake and awaiting a doctor to discharge him. So off to breakfast I went.
A couple of hours later I got a message he had been discharged but was waiting for his meds. Gah!!
"What meds are they?"
"Co-codamol"
"Well that's paracetamol and codeine. We can get that over the counter. Just leave it."
Shortly we were at the train station, him looking shattered and me relieved to have my man back by my side. We were on our way home. I would dote on him and he wouldn't lift a finger and I would cook him healthy, nutritious food. He would recover quickly and we would live happily ever after.
Three days later he turns to me and says "You know, my tonsillectomy went much better than yours did. I haven't had any issues at all. You had no reason to be worried!"
That night his son woke up having a dream. He takes him back to the bedroom and comes back to bed. We fell back asleep.
Something slapped me.
As I stir I hear a muffled word... "blood!"
I turn round. "Is it much?"
He runs to the bathroom and starts coughing.
I go in and there is blood everywhere. It looks like a murder scene. He is haemorrhaging. I grab my phone and ring 999 and order the ambulance. They want to speak to him. Blood is pouring out of his mouth guys!!!
I go grab his phone while he mumbles to them and I ring his ex-partner. I clock the time - 4:30am.
"Hey, sorry to wake you, I need you to come get the kids. Ant needs to go back to hospital NOW!"
I wake the kids, and grab their bags and shoes and guide them down the stairs trying not to let them see their father who is sat in the bathroom directly outside their bedroom door with blood pouring out of his mouth every few seconds between muffled words. "Daddy isn't feeling well and mum is on her way to get you".
I have them wait outside in the cold December air waiting for their mum to arrive. The paramedics turn up and they saunter up to me "up the top of the stairs, the door is open. Just walk on through".
Their mum turns up moments later and the kids are gone. I rush up the stairs to find him on the way down the stairs coughing up blood everywhere. I tell them I will be down momentarily. I run around and sweep for necessaries. Shoes for me (his trainers are the first I find), my phone, his phone and the door keys. On my way to the ambulance, I follow the trail of blood.
Nack in the ambulance the crew still saunter about nut now he has a bag to cough up the blood into. The blood is coming thick and fast. So thick there are clots the size of large plums stuck in his beard. I have honestly never been so scared in my life, but there I am rubbing his arm and telling him everything will be ok. Because it will, right? By this point he has filled two bags with blood.
Shortly later we arrive at A&E. They take him through and I am left in the corridor once again, sobbing, so scared. I know nothing of what is going on. Medical staff start turning up in pjs. A female member of staff walks past me, clocks me crying and heads on in. She comes back out 5 minutes later.
"Do you want to come in and see him? We don't normally do this but there are no other patients at the moment"
I hurry off my seat in, you don't need to ask me twice!
There my beautiful boy is, covered in his own blood and the coughing up blood is vastly reduced thanks to some drug they had been injecting him with but he appears ghostly white now. I'm stroking his face, assuring him everything will be ok. More staff join behind, and although I am saying reassuring words I am also listening hard to grasp as much information as I can.
"... his veins are shutting down, I struggled to get a line in..."
"What are you waiting for? I want him in my operating theatre now"
"We are waiting for a surgical team."
"We've got an anaesthetist *points at young man stood across from him* and a surgeon... me! I want this man in surgery in 5 minutes!"
"You can't operate without more staff. We need nurses and stuff"
*more people hurry into the room, some clearly have only been awake a short time*
"Look! More people. Get him into my operating theatre now!"
Panic is rising deep in me. The surgeon is clearly worried and my precious man is looking so pale and tired next to me. I too, am urging them to hurry.
The anaesthetist comes over to us and my partner turns to him and says "If it's not completely necessary don't give me a blood transfusion. I am a blood donor." I could have kissed him if it wasn't for the fact he was covered in blood coming from his mouth and I was concerned about infection. This man was sat there, white as a sheet, haemorrhaging blood and he was worried about being able to donate blood to other people. And he is scared of needles! I have so much love for this muppet.
Within minutes we are heading to the theatre doors, I kiss him goodbye once more "you behave yourself in there or you will have me to answer to, alright?!"
I am stood on the same spot outside the operating theatre as I was 4 days ago, still sobbing. The same thoughts entering my head. Is this groundhog day?! What if he died during surgery and I was left a single mum? What if all this stress made me lose yet another baby? I stumble into the toilet and check for signs of blood in my knickers. No baby could survive this stress. I tried to pull myself together and stumbled back to where I came from.
"Erm excuse me, my partner has just been through here and has now gone to theatre. Where do I go for when he comes out?"
"Go home, there is nothing for you to do here"
"I came by ambulance like 20 miles, it's 6 am. I have no money on me, and its a little early for me to try catching buses across the city to the train station anyway. Besides, I want to be here when he wakes up."
"Well give me your number, and go sit in the cafe. I can ring you if there is news."
I wander off feeling hurt and confused. Why would I leave my man here and just go home when I am not even sure if at this very minute he is even still alive?! Of course I wasn't going to just leave!
I pace around the cafe sobbing. I just can't stop sobbing. An hour or so pass and I am sat at a table. Glancing at my phone every 2 seconds awaiting it to ring. I glance up and see a familiar face. It's the anaesthetist. He spots me and motions he is coming down to me. He arrives at my table and shakes my hand. "Surgery went well, he had a small tear in his throat, that with pressure tore open to the size of a pound coin. He lost an estimated 25% of his blood but he's doing well, but it must have been so scary for you to watch."
I'm sobbing so hard. "Thank you, thank you so much, you really don't know what it means to me."
He smiles and leaves. "They will ring you when you can go see him."
2.5 hours pass and I am still sat in the cafe awaiting that phone call. I just need to see him and know he is okay. I need to see him with my own eyes. I spot a nurse wandering around and I run over to her. "My partner was taken for emergency surgery hours ago and I know he's out and I am pregnant and need to see he is ok and I am just so worried. Could you find out if he is ok and if I can see him? I don't know where he is."
She makes a quick call, he is in resuscitation but it is quiet in there as they have no other patients, so I am being allowed to go see him. Just this once. They don't normally allow it.
The kindly nurse has to use her card to get me through various doors in a winding corridor. Staff look at me confused as I walk through behind her. I shouldn't be here!
Through a final door. "Here he is!"
I rush over and kiss a rather bloodstained cheek. I notice that the nurse stood next to him has been trying to make him "presentable" as we made our way over. "Please don't worry about all the blood, I was trying to clean him up for you"
"Oh don't worry about that, there are no massive clots coming out of his face with pints of blood anymore, this is a vast improvement to how I last saw him!"
I help her change him into a new gown (there is blood all over his back - clearly theatre was just as messy as I had seen him before), and scrubbed his face of dried blood. I decide there is no point in trying to clean up that beard, it needs a good wash, no wipes are going to fix that! But my man was talking to me, tired, but talking to me. He was everything I needed. I stayed with him for around an hour, but then another patient arrived. It was time for me to leave. He was only still in resuscitation as they were waiting for a bed on a ward. So off to the cafe I went, before a visit on the ward before I went back home to the flat.
I arrive back at the flat, following the trail of blood all the way to the door. As I open it the stench hit me. A strong, metallic smell. The stench of blood. I walk through to the bathroom and start running the sink taps. The blood is covering the bowl, thick clots filling the plug hole. I start scrubbing. My glorious man cannot return to this mess! I scour for every drop I could find. On the toilet. The curtain. The doors. The door frame. The carpet.
The following day we go to pick him up, again waiting for meds. Why does it take so long? Why can't they just offer to give you a paper prescription to take to any pharmacy so you aren't taking up precious bedspace?
Shortly my wonderful man is back home with me, and again I am caring for him, making sure he eats well and puts his feet up! This time he makes a fast and full recovery and I could not be any more grateful to the surgical team at Worcester Royal Hospital for their fabulous surgical team who looked after him and patched him up so he could return home to me and his children. We will be eternally grateful!
No comments:
Post a Comment