Big Girls Don’t Cry - 26.11.12 OP DAY!

Sunday Funday

It was definitely up there as one of the best days of my life. When I woke up, Andy had prepared a treasure hunt for me in the flat. He gave me the first clue which lead to the second and a chocolate penguin, which lead to the third clue and another chocolate penguin, and so on until eventually I found an envelope with two tickets to London Zoo and two tickets for a ‘Meet the Penguins’ experience.

I’m a little bit obsessed with penguins and own every penguin thing you could imagine! Stroking and meeting penguins has always been a dream of mine and I’m so grateful to Andy for making it happen. Taking the wheelchair on the train and tube was as much of a palaver as I had imagined but we took my crutches too so I could use them on the occasions that I needed to stand. When the time came to enter the penguin enclosure, the Bird Keeper explained that it wouldn’t be a problem for me in a wheelchair, but I wanted to make the most of my opportunity so I practically jumped out and ran in there to introduce myself to the penguins. I can only imagine what the she thought of me but I really didn’t care. I was stroking them, taking pictures and generally having the time of my life during the forty minutes we had. My favourite was Ricky the Rockhopper penguin who had bright red eyes and yellow spaghetti style eyebrows. - Just like Lovelace from the Happy Feet films :)

Andy was having the time of his life too. He told me he was just so happy to see my happy. Isn’t he adorable!? After the penguin experience, it was time to see the rest of what London Zoo had to offer and it was soon after getting back into the wheelchair when Andy began puffing and panting… the wheelchair had a flat. He just about managed to push me around the zoo but as the tyre was progressively getting worse, we decided it would be best for me to ‘crutch it’ and Andy had to push the empty seat. We finished the day off with some yummy food at Yo Sushi in Waterloo St. and when we made it home, I packed my hospital bag and we hit the sack after some TV.

D Day

You’ll be surprised to know that I didn’t sleep very well, but this was not a day for hitting the snooze button. I was adamant that I didn’t want to cry and work myself up, so I just concentrated on the positives. I’m quite a big cry baby so I’m actually amazed that I did so well. Andy kept telling me how proud he was, which was obviously making it much harder to hold it together. Every time I could feel my eyes well up, I told myself that I would be fine, I was in the best hands possible, and things could be a lot worse.

Arriving at the hospital, we joined a queue of people waiting for surgery and when I discovered that I was first on the list, panic mode kicked in. I had hoped that I would be near the start but it was still a shock. I was given my paper pants, TED stockings, warm antiseptic wipes to clean my body (especially hip) with, gown, dressing gown and some sexy non-slip red socks. Whilst getting changed I was looking at my hips in the mirror and taking deep breaths – still trying not to cry.

The anaesthetist came to talk through risks, complications and statistics of the general and spinal anaesthetic. Then I saw my main man – Dr Marcus Bankes AKA Banksey, and his two accomplices. He also went through the risks and complications. One of which was an intra articular pelvic fracture; where the pelvis doesn’t break in the desired position and the procedure has to be stopped and re-attempted again in a few months. I told Banksey not to worry as I have very strong bones (numerous hockey related incidences that should have but didn't result in fractures), and it was the other risks that concerned me most. These aren’t what you want to hear prior to surgery but I understand that they need to go through them. I completed the consent forms (which almost feels like you’re signing your life away), and then it was time. Andy and I had a long hug and then walked away in opposite directions. I was lead into a room with an operating bed and I asked if this was the room. The anaesthetist explained that the adjacent room was the actual O.R. and opened the double doors for me to have a sneak peak. The reality of surgery was quickly sinking in. The anaesthetist asked me to sit on the bed for the spinal and I remember demanding a sedative due to my very well hidden anxiety. He said I didn’t need one and tried to distract me with some trivial questions. I demanded again and started to cry. My last memory was a second anaesthetist saying “She’s clearly upset; sedate her, sedate her!”

 

Peri Acetabular Osteotomy - The Procedure (don't read if you're squeamish)

PAO is a joint-preserving operation to minimise the inevitable onset of arthritis and the need for hip replacement. The surgeon will use a bone-cutting tool called an osteotome (resembles a chisel for wood work) to make a series of cuts around the acetabulum (hip socket). The acetabulum, now freed from the rest of the pelvis, is rotated over the head of femur thigh bone) and 3-4 long screws are inserted to hold the acetabulum in place while it heals. The two muscles that were cut through are reattached to the pelvis with fibre wire, the bleeding is stopped and the wound closed.

 

When I came round in the recovery room, the nurse was explaining how to use my morphine pump. I was still very out of it so I didn’t pay much attention. I noticed the clock and it was 11.30 so the surgery was only 2.5 hours. Banksey came in to say “Hello” and to explain that the procedure couldn’t have gone better and that my bones were VERY strong, and he only needed two 13cm screws. He asked if I could move my ankle (to check if he’d gone through any major nerves), which I could. He asked if I could push the back of my knee into the pillow supporting my leg (to check that my quadriceps could contract), which I could. So far so good and I was extremely happy that no complications were apparent. After about 30 minutes of consciousness I was taken to my ward and you’ll never believe it was called ‘Sarah Ward’ – How cool right? I couldn’t wait to see Andy and my Dad and when they walked in, tears of joy ran down my face.

They were equally happy to see me and were really surprised that I was wide awake and 100% compos mentis. I wasn’t in any pain at all due to: the spinal anaesthetic; a local anaesthetic getting pumped into my wound at 10ml per hour; a morphine pump hooked up to a cannula; and paracetamol and ibuprofen. A catheter had been fitted as I wouldn’t be visiting the toilet for a few days. Foot pumps were attached to both feet to encourage blood circulation, and I noticed that there was a big plaster over the wound which was filling with blood.

After a few hugs and kisses, Andy passed my phone for me to read the Facebook posts and text messages and I burst into tears. I was so overwhelmed with everyone’s kind, supportive and encouraging comments that I couldn’t help but be a cry baby again. I did the hard part and held it together beforehand, so there’s nothing wrong with happy tears right?

Andy and my Dad were with me from 1.30pm-8pm to keep me company and they definitely witnessed the good, the bad and the ugly. I was chatting and laughing away at times, having brief naps and making phone calls until my body decided it wasn’t a fan of morphine and was violently sick four times. Andy attempted to feed me dinner but I could only manage five tiny mouthfuls. Anti-sickness medicine was pumped in through my cannula which worked temporarily but I still had the worst night’s sleep. The bright lights in Sarah Ward stayed on way too long for my liking and fellow patients were talking on their phones way too loudly and for too long. Not to mention I was woken up every few hours to take more pills.

At least day one was over and the surgery was a success. What would day two bring?