You might remember from my September blog that during the lead up to my stoma surgery, I had two hospital admissions. A year ago today, I was between them. A year to the day since my struggles on a liquid diet, starving myself with false hope that I could heal myself. Unbeknown to me, it wouldn’t be long before I was back in hospital again. This time facing my biggest fear. For my November blog, I am starting the first of a three part post reflecting on my second admission. The most difficult time of my life- when I met Wendy. So here goes part one.
The night before my second admission, denial was quickly catching up with me and it was becoming clear to me that I couldn’t heal myself. I had failed on the liquid diet for the second time in my life. After 6 days of only 1000ml per day I couldn’t starve anymore, so I had started to eat soft beige foods. With that, my pain became worse day by day. I knew my time was running out and I was becoming desperate for help. I knew what that meant. I knew it meant stoma surgery because I was all out of options. But I was in so much pain and so exhausted that I would take ANY solution, even surgery.
My eyes were slowly opening to what was to come. I reeled in pain and played the film of what happens next in my mind a hundred times. When I couldn’t watch it anymore, I turned to Adam and said I needed to go back to hospital. We both knew what that meant and my eyes glazed over as we pushed forward into our darkest days.
I felt like less of a fraud in A&E this time...I had a known perforated bowel after all. We sat there and we waited. And waited. I was in excruciating pain but something was different this time. Things were moving slower and there was no sense of urgency.
I had a CT scan and we waited hours to be told that my bowel was completely blocked with the soft foods I had been eating. The narrowing and perforation made it impossible for anything to pass through. That risks another perforation and that risks sepsis. I would be admitted to the surgical team. That wasn’t a surprise to us...but the time it took was.
We waited hours to be taken to a link ward because there was no room anywhere else. A link ward is where patients go to wait until a space comes up on the ward they need to be on. This was the start of my nightmare and a time when I have never felt so vulnerable.
Link ward bed 6. That is where I spent the next 12 days. Where my life changed and I met Wendy. Where I was supported by those I love to recover. To sit up, to stand, to walk.
I felt really anxious being wheeled up to the ward. Would it smell like last time? Would I get any sleep this time? How long would I be there for? I needed to get to the surgical ward where the stoma nurses would be on hand. That’s what I was promised. That was the deal I negotiated. The sad thing was, I quickly realised I had no bargaining power left. I needed this surgery to save my life, right ward or wrong ward. Support or no support.
I cried a lot in the lead up to my surgery. I knew when I went back into hospital that I would be facing my biggest fear. Being an emergency means you have no knowledge of when surgery will be. You are more out of control and more vulnerable. The wait was especially difficult knowing I was on a ward not equipped to look after me afterwards and there was no sign of me being moved to where I needed to be. I was overcome with panic and sadness but I wasn’t afforded the dignity of being able to come to terms with my reality in private. I pleaded with the nurses many times to move me so that I had the medical help and equipment I needed on hand and so that I could deal with what was happening to me in a more dignified way. It still hurts me deeply that nobody took action to help me (or to even try) during my darkest hours.
I spent the first 5 days of my second admission waiting. Being told “today might be the day”. It was absolutely unbearable. The not knowing. It’s a lot to go to sleep every night, not knowing if your life was going to change forever the next day. It’s a lot waking up and having nothing ahead of you that day but waiting to confront your biggest fear. Waiting for something that you think is going to ruin your life.
Adam was at my bedside at every opportunity. That was two hours, twice a day, everyday. And on the bad days, if I was struggling, more than that. Some days he sat their silently holding my hand while I cried...other days we played Battleships. Mum and Dad came up before my surgery and Siôny called at least once everyday which meant the world.
They all looked at me so helplessly but with such hope that I would be better soon. That I would be back to the Rhian they knew. The Rhian that everyone always said was so happy and bubbly. I hoped so too because I hadn’t seen her in a long time. But I could see the fear and hurt in their eyes too and that broke my heart. I didn’t know what my surgery was going to do to me but they are more important to me than me. And I was scared for them if things didn’t go well.
One day out of the 5 before my surgery, my surgeon came to see me to go through the consent forms. That was really hard. I know we all need to be appraised of the risks of surgery but the best outcome of my surgery was bad enough, without any added risks. I finally started to tune in. To lean in. What if it all went wrong? What if it all went right? And with that, I broke down. It was just me and her in that moment as I struggled to keep my whaling hidden from the patients and nurses on the other side of the curtain. In that moment, I truly accepted that I was really sick. And I didn’t have a choice but to consent. So I did.
Some time or maybe some days later, a stoma nurse came to see me and I broke down again. I found myself wishing I’d listened more to the stoma nurse during my first admission and even wondering why I didn’t pay more attention to the stoma practice pack with the old couple on the front. My eyes were open now and I was terrified. The stoma nurse asked me where I wanted my stoma to be. I didn’t know. She asked me to stand up, sit down, lie down. We chatted about it for a little while and then decided on a spot. She got out a black permanent marker and drew a stoma sized circle on my right side, just below my belly button.
Then I waited again. Until 18 December. When I met Wendy and my life changed forever. Little did I know it would be for the better.
Love Me &
My Friend Wendy.
Comments