There are so many things in life we take for granted, simple
things like the ability to eat, move or sleep. These are things we never
really think about until we suddenly find we can't eat, sleep or move, for
whatever reason. A few weeks ago, I was having a very enjoyable Sunday, a
day out to the beach with a stop off at An Grianan Aligh on the way home to
admire the spectacular views on a cool, sunny, autumn afternoon. What
started off as a dull ache in my right side gradually turned into something
much more painful by bedtime, requiring the use of painkillers and every home
recipe I could think of, to counteract what I assumed was, a bad case of
indigestion.
After a restless night, things had calmed a bit by Monday
morning. I was expecting a gradual lessening of pain and discomfort through the
course of the day but the pain remained constant and I spent another sleepless
night trying to find a comfortable position which lessened the pain and ate
little more than soup for fear of making things worse. By Tuesday, I suspected
something more was going on than simple indigestion as the site of the pain had
now swollen to include a hard lump. Things gradually worsened over the
course of the week with trips to the doctor and A&E, where I was finally
admitted on the Friday with an inflamed gallbladder. A scan revealed a
large stone blocking the bile duct and a lot of inflammation in the gallbladder
and colon.
Over the course of the next few days, I was pumped full of
morphine and antibiotics to try to control the pain and reduce the inflammation
and things seemed to be progressing well until the Tuesday when I had another
attack with pain beyond anything I had experienced so far. On a scale of
1 - 10, I was asked to rate it. This was a definite 10 but with screaming! I didn't think I was capable
of feeling this level of pain and surviving and the thought of meeting my maker
was one I welcomed if it would just end the pain and I cried like a child for
the grandfather I lost at 8 years of age to come and get me. I was in so much
distress the only thing they could do, on doctor’s advice, was give me a dose
of morphine, strong enough to knock me out. I was never as glad in
my life for the wonders of modern medicine.
I didn't fare much better over the course of the next 24 hours,
the pain worsened, the inflammation was increasing along with infection levels
so they finally decided to take it out and so I was prepared for surgery the
next day. Talking to the surgeon afterwards, he remarked that it was a
difficult procedure and although it wasn’t the worst gallbladder he had seen,
it wasn’t far off it and the stone he removed was about the size of a walnut so
it was no wonder I was in so much pain.
Another week in recovery, where those simple acts of eating, sleeping
and moving still seemed monumental, gradually, the ability to move and eat
improved. I had been surviving on porridge, soup and custard for the best
part of 3 weeks, too afraid to try anything more in case the pain returned and
even I could see the weight loss (at least 10lb) confirmed by my sister who
remarked when she came to see me, 'God, Aideen, you look terrible! You're
grey and your face has fallen in, all I can see is cheekbones and panda
eyes!' 2 weeks in hospital is not good for the health, trying to recover
from major surgery with a diet so nutritionally deficient that every day I could
feel myself weakening more and more. I
was craving protein and fantasising about scrambled eggs and steak.
By the second week, sleep deprivation was catching up with me
(hospitals are not conducive to good sleep with lights on all night) and cabin
fever began to set in. It felt like I
hadn’t been home in months and I longed for a night in the warmth and comfort
of my own bed. I yearned to get outside
and feel a breeze or the sun on my skin. Then, finally, on the
Thursday, a week after surgery, I got to go home.
I was never as happy to see Strabane as I was last Thursday
evening, I could have kissed the ground and the first thing I ate when I got
home was scrambled eggs! Divine!
So, I’m still on the light diet for this week and introducing
foods one at a time. My range of
movement has improved but there is still some way to go and I’ve caught up on
my sleep but with the limitations on movement, it isn’t what it was but it was
certainly helped by having the pins removed from the wound yesterday. My energy levels are improving daily but I
won’t be walking any long distances for a while yet as I’m still quite weak
physically. I find it amazing that only
3 weeks ago; I could go for a long walk without a care in the world whereas at
the moment I wouldn’t have the strength or energy to walk to our local shop. I’ll
be off work for a while too; I can’t drive yet and have to take it easy but having
endured the worst pain of my life, I have a new found appreciation for life’s
simple pleasures. The joy of a night in
the comfort and warmth of my own bed, the absolute pleasure of being able to
eat real food again and more importantly, being able to move, even if it is
limited, without pain is one I will treasure for some time to come and look
forward to getting my full fitness and strength back.
Pain & Pleasure
There are so many things in life we take for granted, simple things like the ability to eat, move or sleep. These are things we never really think about until we suddenly find we can't eat, sleep or move, for whatever reason. A few weeks ago, I was having a very enjoyable Sunday, a day out to the beach with a stop off at An Grianan Aligh on the way home to admire the spectacular views on a cool, sunny, autumn afternoon. What started off as a dull ache in my right side gradually turned into something much more painful by bedtime, requiring the use of painkillers and every home recipe I could think of, to counteract what I assumed was, a bad case of indigestion.
After a restless night, things had calmed a bit by Monday morning. I was expecting a gradual lessening of pain and discomfort through the course of the day but the pain remained constant and I spent another sleepless night trying to find a comfortable position which lessened the pain and ate little more than soup for fear of making things worse. By Tuesday, I suspected something more was going on than simple indigestion as the site of the pain had now swollen to include a hard lump. Things gradually worsened over the course of the week with trips to the doctor and A&E, where I was finally admitted on the Friday with an inflamed gallbladder. A scan revealed a large stone blocking the bile duct and a lot of inflammation in the gallbladder and colon.
Over the course of the next few days, I was pumped full of morphine and antibiotics to try to control the pain and reduce the inflammation and things seemed to be progressing well until the Tuesday when I had another attack with pain beyond anything I had experienced so far. On a scale of 1 - 10, I was asked to rate it. This was a definite 10 but with screaming! I didn't think I was capable of feeling this level of pain and surviving and the thought of meeting my maker was one I welcomed if it would just end the pain and I cried like a child for the grandfather I lost at 8 years of age to come and get me. I was in so much distress the only thing they could do, on doctor’s advice, was give me a dose of morphine, strong enough to knock me out. I was never as glad in my life for the wonders of modern medicine.
I didn't fare much better over the course of the next 24 hours, the pain worsened, the inflammation was increasing along with infection levels so they finally decided to take it out and so I was prepared for surgery the next day. Talking to the surgeon afterwards, he remarked that it was a difficult procedure and although it wasn’t the worst gallbladder he had seen, it wasn’t far off it and the stone he removed was about the size of a walnut so it was no wonder I was in so much pain. Another week in recovery, where those simple acts of eating, sleeping and moving still seemed monumental, gradually, the ability to move and eat improved. I had been surviving on porridge, soup and custard for the best part of 3 weeks, too afraid to try anything more in case the pain returned and even I could see the weight loss (at least 10lb) confirmed by my sister who remarked when she came to see me, 'God, Aideen, you look terrible! You're grey and your face has fallen in, all I can see is cheekbones and panda eyes!' 2 weeks in hospital is not good for the health, trying to recover from major surgery with a diet so nutritionally deficient that every day I could feel myself weakening more and more. I was craving protein and fantasising about scrambled eggs and steak.
By the second week, sleep deprivation was catching up with me (hospitals are not conducive to good sleep with lights on all night) and cabin fever began to set in. It felt like I hadn’t been home in months and I longed for a night in the warmth and comfort of my own bed. I yearned to get outside and feel a breeze or the sun on my skin. Then, finally, on the Thursday, a week after surgery, I got to go home.
I was never as happy to see Strabane as I was last Thursday evening, I could have kissed the ground and the first thing I ate when I got home was scrambled eggs! Divine!
So, I’m still on the light diet for this week and introducing foods one at a time. My range of movement has improved but there is still some way to go and I’ve caught up on my sleep but with the limitations on movement, it isn’t what it was but it was certainly helped by having the pins removed from the wound yesterday. My energy levels are improving daily but I won’t be walking any long distances for a while yet as I’m still quite weak physically. I find it amazing that only 3 weeks ago; I could go for a long walk without a care in the world whereas at the moment I wouldn’t have the strength or energy to walk to our local shop. I’ll be off work for a while too; I can’t drive yet and have to take it easy but having endured the worst pain of my life, I have a new found appreciation for life’s simple pleasures. The joy of a night in the comfort and warmth of my own bed, the absolute pleasure of being able to eat real food again and more importantly, being able to move, even if it is limited, without pain is one I will treasure for some time to come and look forward to getting my full fitness and strength back.