2013 - Laparoscopy
Monday 18th February was a rough day. I woke up with a slightly higher temperature than normal. I decided to keep an eye on it during the day. By the afternoon it went up to 38.8◦C I phoned my mum she said to drink loads which I was doing and to sit in front of the fan. This did make my temperature go down a bit. At about 1.00pm I sent Kev a text saying that I had taken a turn for the worse. He said that he would be back from work just before 2.00pm. I was on the phone to my mum until he got home. Just as my husband walked in the front door I was sick. It was green because I had not eaten all week. Even though I was feeling nauseous it came so suddenly and violently I was sick all over the living room carpet because I could not make it to the bathroom.
My husband took me straight to the Gynaecology Unit where my appointment was due to be. The receptionist took one look at me to go round the corner into a quieter waiting room whilst my husband gave my details. I must have looked like crap and I know I definitely felt it. I felt worse than when I was taken in in 2009. That must have been why I had 2 nurses help me into the gynaecologists office. They took my blood pressure that was higher than normal – due to the stress caused by the pain. My temperature had gone down now. After a chat with the gynaecologist I agreed to have a transvaginal ultrasound as long as when I said stop he would stop. He agreed. my husband held my hand during the scan which I found extremely painful (again they are not normally painful) by the end of it I was begging him to stop but he had found a large cyst and had to do a couple of things first. Afterwards he said that the cyst was about 9cm. I was to be admitted to F11 Gynaecological Ward. They just had to wait for a bed to be free. They were struggling to decide on what painkillers to give me as I had not eaten and they were limited on what they had on their ward as they were not A&E. In the end they thought the best thing to give me was a suppository. I was happy to agree to anything if it would stop the pain or even ease it to a more bearable level. I remember turning round to one of the nurses and said “hang on!!! That’s the one that they put up your bum isn’t it?” they both said yes. To say the least I was not over the moon about this but if it would work I was willing to give it a go. I had to climb onto the bed which was really hard because every little movement I would do would cause a huge shooting pain all over my abdomen. I was now bent over on the bed with my trousers down (very elegant not!!!) the nurse could tell I was nervous about the suppository and went to show me it but I looked away as quick as I could I did not want to see the size of what was about to get pushed up my backside. Well it worked the pain started to ease a bit. I could still feel the suppository up my backside and kept my but cheeks clenched because I was worried it would come out. I said a joke about if I farted would it shoot out. I am sure it was in this room that they first struggled to get some blood out of me. You see since 2009 I tried to keep my blood where it belonged, in me. It is ok when they get a vein but it is just trying to find a vein. Whenever someone takes my blood I always warn them that I can be a pain in the backside to find a vein.
When a bed was available there was no porter about to take me up to the ward so the 2 nurses said that they would take me up. I remember sitting in the maternity wheelchair feeling like a borrower. They are wider than a normal wheelchair. When we got to the ward there were 2 free beds one by the walkway and another at the other end by the window. I asked if I could be by the window.
Normally I am very careful not to offend anyone so try not to swear in front of strangers but this was one of those moments where I could not help it. As I got out of the wheelchair and onto the bed the pain shot straight through me again. I apologised straight away. One of the nurses bringing me up muttered to me “don’t worry I’m sure no one heard you they all look a bit deaf to me” I chuckled as I looked around and she was right I must have been the youngest on the ward by about 30 years. One of the women standing by the window said “I heard that”. I was put on a drip to keep my fluids up and was given some Oramorph.
This is where it goes a bit blurry as so much has been done that I find it hard to think what happened when.
It is typical really I meet my gynaecologist and when I am rushed into hospital a week later he is on annual leave. So I had another gynaecologist/surgeon come and have a look at me. They had a feel and a chat and thought that the cyst may be leaking and had to be removed. This could be done via a laparoscopy however because the cyst was big it may be that they have to remove the ovary in which case that would mean them doing a laparotomy (a proper cut). At this stage I had gone beyond caring I just wanted it to be sorted out. We spoke about the risks and I signed the consent form and then we waited. My husband waited with me until I went under then went home to get my overnight bag. I felt more relaxed this time about having a laparoscopy than I had in 2009. I think it was because I had already had one and I knew it was going to be ok and I would feel much better when I came round. I had prepared myself to wake up with a long scar where they had to remove my ovary. I thought if I prepared myself for the worse, then anything else would be a bonus.
I must have come round about 10/10.15pm. I remember asking the time but I do not remember what the nurse said. I was back on the ward by 10.50pm when I sent a text to my husband and my sister and phoned my mum saying I was ok. I never remember the journey from recovery to the ward. I was given these massage boots (to help with the blood flow I assume I never asked) they were so relaxing. I had these for a few hours. I could easily have taken them home with me. The first thing I done was look at my stomach. YES I thought just 3 little scars no big one. I just hoped that I did not suffer from trapped wind like last time. After an operation they check your stats (blood pressure, temperature, breathing and pulse) every 30 minutes for a couple of hours. Mine were ok.
The next morning (19th February 2013) I woke up at 6.30am, I could not find my wash gear – my husband had forgotten it so I was given a tooth brush, toothpaste and a bar of soap. I was not overly hungry but I knew I had to eat so I tried to force some breakfast. Everyone on the ward (nurses and patients) were all very friendly. The woman that standing at the window when I was admitted was my neighbour. She had been in with a cyst over 11cm and had to have the ovary removed. She had had complications and had been constipated. She had been in for about 14 days. I think the woman opposite her had been in for about a week she was very chatty (sometimes a bit too chatty) had broken her leg. The person opposite me I think had had a fall. She had the onset of dementia she was fine during the day but by the evening she would forget everything and get frustrated, it was so sad to see. She was lovely she was being put into a home. There were 3 other people who were very nice and friendly as well. I got to know these people during the morning and had a good laugh. Every time I got up to go to the loo I got myself tangled with my drip wire and I had to do a pole dance to get myself untangled. I was in good spirits.
The senior consultant that done my laparoscopy came to see me. He said that instead of the cyst being 9.6cm by 7.6cm like they thought it was by looking at the scan. They found an 8cm endometrioma. He said that my right tube looked healthy however he was unable to see my left tube and ovary due to pelvic adhesions. By reading my notes this suggests a turbo-ovarian mass that side (whatever that means). He drained the endometrioma and de-roofed it. He said depending on how I got on during the day I could go home later. He said to the nurse that I should be sent home with some Oramorph (as I was still requiring this ), Anti-inflamatories and Paracetamol.
After he had done we were joking saying that I had been here under 24 hours and I was going home later and they had all been in longer and had to stay. The leg woman had been told she could go home in the next couple of days and my neighbour was later told she could go home that day. They were told this after I took a turn for the worse and was told I had to stay. Oh how a coin can flip so quickly.
My husband took me straight to the Gynaecology Unit where my appointment was due to be. The receptionist took one look at me to go round the corner into a quieter waiting room whilst my husband gave my details. I must have looked like crap and I know I definitely felt it. I felt worse than when I was taken in in 2009. That must have been why I had 2 nurses help me into the gynaecologists office. They took my blood pressure that was higher than normal – due to the stress caused by the pain. My temperature had gone down now. After a chat with the gynaecologist I agreed to have a transvaginal ultrasound as long as when I said stop he would stop. He agreed. my husband held my hand during the scan which I found extremely painful (again they are not normally painful) by the end of it I was begging him to stop but he had found a large cyst and had to do a couple of things first. Afterwards he said that the cyst was about 9cm. I was to be admitted to F11 Gynaecological Ward. They just had to wait for a bed to be free. They were struggling to decide on what painkillers to give me as I had not eaten and they were limited on what they had on their ward as they were not A&E. In the end they thought the best thing to give me was a suppository. I was happy to agree to anything if it would stop the pain or even ease it to a more bearable level. I remember turning round to one of the nurses and said “hang on!!! That’s the one that they put up your bum isn’t it?” they both said yes. To say the least I was not over the moon about this but if it would work I was willing to give it a go. I had to climb onto the bed which was really hard because every little movement I would do would cause a huge shooting pain all over my abdomen. I was now bent over on the bed with my trousers down (very elegant not!!!) the nurse could tell I was nervous about the suppository and went to show me it but I looked away as quick as I could I did not want to see the size of what was about to get pushed up my backside. Well it worked the pain started to ease a bit. I could still feel the suppository up my backside and kept my but cheeks clenched because I was worried it would come out. I said a joke about if I farted would it shoot out. I am sure it was in this room that they first struggled to get some blood out of me. You see since 2009 I tried to keep my blood where it belonged, in me. It is ok when they get a vein but it is just trying to find a vein. Whenever someone takes my blood I always warn them that I can be a pain in the backside to find a vein.
When a bed was available there was no porter about to take me up to the ward so the 2 nurses said that they would take me up. I remember sitting in the maternity wheelchair feeling like a borrower. They are wider than a normal wheelchair. When we got to the ward there were 2 free beds one by the walkway and another at the other end by the window. I asked if I could be by the window.
Normally I am very careful not to offend anyone so try not to swear in front of strangers but this was one of those moments where I could not help it. As I got out of the wheelchair and onto the bed the pain shot straight through me again. I apologised straight away. One of the nurses bringing me up muttered to me “don’t worry I’m sure no one heard you they all look a bit deaf to me” I chuckled as I looked around and she was right I must have been the youngest on the ward by about 30 years. One of the women standing by the window said “I heard that”. I was put on a drip to keep my fluids up and was given some Oramorph.
This is where it goes a bit blurry as so much has been done that I find it hard to think what happened when.
It is typical really I meet my gynaecologist and when I am rushed into hospital a week later he is on annual leave. So I had another gynaecologist/surgeon come and have a look at me. They had a feel and a chat and thought that the cyst may be leaking and had to be removed. This could be done via a laparoscopy however because the cyst was big it may be that they have to remove the ovary in which case that would mean them doing a laparotomy (a proper cut). At this stage I had gone beyond caring I just wanted it to be sorted out. We spoke about the risks and I signed the consent form and then we waited. My husband waited with me until I went under then went home to get my overnight bag. I felt more relaxed this time about having a laparoscopy than I had in 2009. I think it was because I had already had one and I knew it was going to be ok and I would feel much better when I came round. I had prepared myself to wake up with a long scar where they had to remove my ovary. I thought if I prepared myself for the worse, then anything else would be a bonus.
I must have come round about 10/10.15pm. I remember asking the time but I do not remember what the nurse said. I was back on the ward by 10.50pm when I sent a text to my husband and my sister and phoned my mum saying I was ok. I never remember the journey from recovery to the ward. I was given these massage boots (to help with the blood flow I assume I never asked) they were so relaxing. I had these for a few hours. I could easily have taken them home with me. The first thing I done was look at my stomach. YES I thought just 3 little scars no big one. I just hoped that I did not suffer from trapped wind like last time. After an operation they check your stats (blood pressure, temperature, breathing and pulse) every 30 minutes for a couple of hours. Mine were ok.
The next morning (19th February 2013) I woke up at 6.30am, I could not find my wash gear – my husband had forgotten it so I was given a tooth brush, toothpaste and a bar of soap. I was not overly hungry but I knew I had to eat so I tried to force some breakfast. Everyone on the ward (nurses and patients) were all very friendly. The woman that standing at the window when I was admitted was my neighbour. She had been in with a cyst over 11cm and had to have the ovary removed. She had had complications and had been constipated. She had been in for about 14 days. I think the woman opposite her had been in for about a week she was very chatty (sometimes a bit too chatty) had broken her leg. The person opposite me I think had had a fall. She had the onset of dementia she was fine during the day but by the evening she would forget everything and get frustrated, it was so sad to see. She was lovely she was being put into a home. There were 3 other people who were very nice and friendly as well. I got to know these people during the morning and had a good laugh. Every time I got up to go to the loo I got myself tangled with my drip wire and I had to do a pole dance to get myself untangled. I was in good spirits.
The senior consultant that done my laparoscopy came to see me. He said that instead of the cyst being 9.6cm by 7.6cm like they thought it was by looking at the scan. They found an 8cm endometrioma. He said that my right tube looked healthy however he was unable to see my left tube and ovary due to pelvic adhesions. By reading my notes this suggests a turbo-ovarian mass that side (whatever that means). He drained the endometrioma and de-roofed it. He said depending on how I got on during the day I could go home later. He said to the nurse that I should be sent home with some Oramorph (as I was still requiring this ), Anti-inflamatories and Paracetamol.
After he had done we were joking saying that I had been here under 24 hours and I was going home later and they had all been in longer and had to stay. The leg woman had been told she could go home in the next couple of days and my neighbour was later told she could go home that day. They were told this after I took a turn for the worse and was told I had to stay. Oh how a coin can flip so quickly.