It started with what I thought was a bit of food poisoning. That steak was on it’s “use by” date and was looking a little pale. Still, it smelled ok and I cooked it well done, so I figured, no problem. By 03:30 I was spewing red, white and blue.
So began a three day drink and purge routine that wasn’t getting better. On day three I went to A&E in hopes of some relief. We did a review,, some stomach X-rays and I was sent home. Bowel a little inflamed, but nothing to worry about. A few more days of bed rest and dry crackers would set me right.
Two days later, after emptying my stomach of dark green bile, over and over, it was time to go back to A&E. Let me tell you something about the gunge I was puking, it smelled earthy, like damp hay and had the consistency of dark, slightly chunky Mountain Dew. Not nice.
After a humiliating and frightening 8 hours on a gurney in the A&E, I was admitted to hospital properly. One thing I have to comment on is that I have an even greater admiration for emergency services staff and night nurses than I had before. Some of the abusive drunks and their swearing, the mentally ill and their tears, those in pain that are loud and abusive, the uncooperative, all make me realise that these front line careers really are fucking heroes.
I’ve been here for 6 days. Bowel obstruction, possibly a result of the surgery I had two years ago. Apparently, it’s not uncommon for this to happen after a major operation. We’re waiting one more day before we decide if another surgery is necessary, but I’m still hopeful that it can be avoided. The hardest part is not knowing. It’s like someone holding a raised scalpel above you head and flipping a coins to see if they’re going to slash.
The other hard part is not eating. Yes, my clothes are going to fit fabulously when this is all over, but I have to admit, I’m hungry. It has been 11 days since the steak. Nothing since.
There is comfort in know that one way or another, whether through normal treatment or surgery, this too will pass. My family and friends have been checking up on me and although its great to feel supported, I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I tell them enough to keep them from worrying, but nothing more.
I think of home. My cats, the garden, my sewing projects and most of all, my hubby, who is worried and can’t see me. Yes, we could Zoom or FaceTime, but I also don’t want him to see me like this. The thin white and blue cotton gown, my hair, desperately in need of a wash, the draining tube up my left nostril. It’s not the most attractive picture Although he has seen me through things like this before, with my chemo and surgeries, I want to spare him where I can. He’s there, looking after the home and the fur babies and that’s enough.
I just want to say that I’m determined to get well. I will not wallow or feel sorry for myself. I will do what I have always done. I will be strong and stubborn and cause as much trouble to this affliction as I can.
I’ll try to keep writing while I have the enthusiasm, but for now, it time for the Lord of the Rings trilogy to keep me busy. Take care, be safe. Wear a mask. 🙂