Six

Six - (printed by my God-Mother, scanned and emailed and re typed by my nimble fingered Boss Lady / Sweet Friend)

Life on the ward!

On Thursday, during the hummingbird cake hilarity, Elizabeth arrived on the ward.  We worked out days later that she was 79 but she had thought she was 74.  Grandmother to children in Nigeria, UK, Holland and USA,  She immediately adopted me.  Asking the nurses if they were looking after her Baby.  She amused herself by reading the bible out loud and shouting at the Paralympics on the telly she wasn't watching.  She was admitted with a rash on her masectomy scar which she stripped off and showed me because I was her daughter.  At first she annoyed me, she had broken the spell of having the whole ward to myself, she was noisy and I didn't want to have a conversation with anybody.  That night I went to sleep listening to her pray. At 3am I woke up and could still hear her praying.  I lay awake and listened more carefully and slowly realised she was praying for me.

In the morning I helped her to get her telly to work properly and she dished out marriage advice.  The more I listened, the less bonkers she sounded.

The self-styled physioterrorists got me up and pottering about.  Carrying my drain - a pint bottle of blood draining from the wound down a clear tube.  I  mostly managed to avoid eating the hospital food but became constipated anyway from the morphine.  I always greatly admire the nhs for taking pain relief as seriously as I do. With a cocktail of four different types I was wrapped in a physical and mental ball of cotton wool.

Another evening brought another rush of stunning young ladies to my bedside.  After looking at nurses in uniform all day, my friends looked so bright and shiny and colourful.  More presents, more giggling and showing off my new boob.  Showing the scar where the nipple once was has been important to me.  I want my girlfriends to know what it looks like.  I don't want anyone wondering.  I hope people will ask to see it rather than wonder what it might look like.  I think it looks so much less scary than I might have imagined.

I found out that the surgeon had removed 6 lymph nodes.  This is more that I thought and I was slightly disappointed.  The dye had travelled quickly and they felt they should remove all the nodes affected.  I realise the importance of this but also am aware of the heightened risks in the future of Lymphodema.  This is swelling in the arm (in my case as that will be the area affected) that is caused by infection.  I will have to be very careful not to scratch my arm, or get bitten by insects, sunburn, burn etc.  Scary considering what a klutz I am.

Eventually they moved me to my own private room.  I hoped it was because I'd been so kind and nice to the wonderful nurses but I suspect it had more to do with the constant stream of brilliantly noisy visitors!

Husband and Dad took me out in a wheelchair on the Friday and Saturday and the Children took me out on Sunday.  My boss who is also an old friend came and amused me late into the night, long after visiting hours had finished.  The nurses just let her stay.

On monday I was ready to go home.  I hoped to be able to go without the drain but at the last minute they decided I'd have to keep it in as it was still draining.

On Monday morning, just as I was wondering what I was going to do with my hair, I could hardly brush it let alone put it up, my dear friend came sneaking into my room.  She had told the nurses she wanted to bring me a smoothie and for the next hour and a half I had a welcome stowaway.  She brushed my hair, put it up and the helped me pack up all of my things.  When she had completely exhausted me with giggles and chat she left me to sleep while I awaited my nights in shining armour.