Monday, 7 June 2010

that feels a bit sore

First of all, for those that were expecting some of the long 'memories from a hospital' type blogs I promised, I've decided against them for mixed reasons. What is going on now seems more important than back then - and I'm about to post up some Big News.

However, I will very briefly tell you this one story, as I know you all like a soap-opera.

Right before my actual operation, in the pre-op room, I was given an epidural (spinal). I was told if I didn't there would be a tremendous amount of pain afterwards. Ironically, as I came to in the post-op room, I would describe the pain I was in as significantly more than 'tremendous', regardless of this magic spinal fluid.

I went into some sort of shock/shaking fit, shouting for pain-relief. A very long 30 mins later I was injected with something that helped me stop shaking and retching (on fresh internal stitches, oh yes) . This respite was taken as an opportunity to move me to my hospital cell/bed. But the pain soon came flooding back. I called repeatability for help. Some 2 hours later, the nurse who fitted my epidural came to look at where it was placed. It wasn't news to me that it wasn't in place.

Apologies were made and I was told my next best option was a self-administering morphine machine.


Just. Hurry. The. Fuck. Up.

Two hours later said machine arrived.

So there you go. For the first 4 hours after having *that* spleen removed there was no pain relief. Pause for a minute and let your own head work out how much that might 'smart a bit'.

The next time one of you females say to me, in your holier-than-thou voice, 'you men don't understand real pain - you never have to go through childbirth', I might be inclined to offer you a Pepsi Challenge on it.

"Here love, let me take out this 8.2kg organ from you - a couple of paracetamol should see you right ..."

I hear-by award myself a 'very brave boy' badge. Pass the sewing kit.

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