5 nights in Plastics ward all inclusive

So, leaving ICU to head to the Plastics ward on the evening after my surgery I'm lying on an air mattress, which has a timed program of masseur movements, the bed is being driven by a couple of potential All Blacks and I'm heading to my own room with a view of wainuiomata hills and a pinch of Wellington harbour. People would pay for this on holiday here in New Zealand. And thanks to our amazing health system it's all free. How lucky am I? Blessed. Spare a thought for our American friends who may have to fork out a lot of money for this treatment. 

As I mentioned in the ICU post, the first night in Plastics I was wired. My temperature was 38, my heart rate was 133, I was a worry to the nursing staff. Having said that, the room was 35 degrees and both radiators were on full. Apparently the flap likes to be warm and cosy so greater than 35 degrees is the way to go. Yup maybe for the flap Hun but not the rest of the room! It was like a Swedish sauna in there. I couldn't sleep at all. The cold presses came on my forehead, hands and feet. Think cool like Fonzy. Think Ice Queen. Cool beers on a perfect Wellington day. Snow, snow, snow! White Christmas with Bing Crosby, yes, we watched it Christmas Eve! Happy place, happy place, happy place. 

Middle of the night the on call Dr came in to see me. A lovely Irish accent purring across the warm air. Blood tests for inflammatory markers, chest X-ray, urine tests all ordered for the morning. Questions about prophylactic antibiotics being stopped and whether there was any chance of aspiration pneumonia from the intubation. It felt wonderful to have that reassurance that the lovely Eve from the garden of Eden was on my case. I said I think I'm probably just hot, it's awful hot in here, raging hot. Were you born on the sun? 

I could not rest my busy head that night. I managed to comatose everything from the neck down. All my limbs were heavy. But the head would not stop thinking. It was like a non stop film running at twice normal speed, jumping around, like an 8mm projected film, lots of static. I had had this before, many times, 3am in the morning moments of insomnia, running through the previous day's conversations. There must be a name for this cos it happens soooooo often to me and probably many others to. You just gotta go with it. It's a bad movie but you're at the end of a row of people and the cinema is a sell out. Sit it out, don't panic, it's ok to lose a nights sleep. 

At the end of the night came the morning and relief that there was a new day, I was now on Day 3, I'd met my 24 hours post surgery rejection target, heading towards the 48 hour target when the risk of failure would be halved again. I hadn't had a stroke from the carotid tying. I would not be returning to theatre. Another milestone reached! That must be 4 now, so that's 4 bottles of Veuve Cliquot Rouge for the eventual party of parties!

The Drs ward round this first morning in Plastics would be interesting. It was a Saturday but both my plastic surgeons were on for the weekend, nice. J arrived at "crack of sparrow". So did the docs. All talk of so far so good, flap really doing well, amazingly well, a quick zip through what they found under the skin - just crunchy stuff mainly, no sign of necrosis, bones intact (that's the spine, shudder!). Concerns and much discussion about the cause of the temperature spike and trachy heart rate during the night. Swinging between post surgery effects plus a hot room to possible signs of infection. The prophylactic antibiotics and any chance of aspiration pneumonia were rightly quashed. Having been awake for the intubation had reduced the chances of aspiration of any blood to the lungs (I'd had this happen on a previous attempt to intubate me so it was top of my concerns - a weekend in hospital with pneumonia tripping out on drugs was something that occasionally still haunts me). So bloods taken for culture came back clear, chest X-ray clear, let's try getting up and moving around. Stretching the lungs out a bit. A bit of recliner sitting. Perfick! That third night, Saturday, I slept the couple of hours in between the checks. It only got better, until I was clocking up 3 sets of 2 hourly naps during the night. 6 hours sleep! Brilliant. 

Saturday evening was also groundbreaking in that it was the night of the first bowel movement. Anyone who has had surgery will tell you that you will not be let out of hospital until you are able to prove you can pass a a solid. It's a big deal. A goal! My bro said "you won't feel human until you have your first shite Serena". I couldn't agree more.