The Day With The Whinging
Added at 11:50am and filed under Not impressed, health
M has woken up just brimming with bad gunky. He’s been pissy and miserable from the moment he opened his eyes and I’m doing my best to avoid him. It’s going to be hard, as we’re supposed to be breaking S’s bowling virginity later; here’s hoping that violently assaulting innocent pins will help him shed his crappy mood.
I’m not feeling all that hot, either. I’ve woken up with a deep ache and suspect that our brief and frankly not very taxing visit to the shops yesterday has resulted in me pulling or pushing or tugging or whatever damned thing is it that I do that aggravates my insides. For the first time in over a week I’ve had to knock back painkillers, which is totally not taking me in the right direction. It pisses me off that I can’t even peruse some bookshelves (we visited Borders – I left with four lovely smelling new titles and a guide for our trip to New York next month) without hurting myself. I’m tired of feeling tired and sore and having to gingerly navigate my way around my usual life – I just want to get better and stay that feckin’ way.
My hospital appointment on Friday was crap, too. I saw yet another doctor I hadn’t seen before, and instead of confidently answering the (load of) questions that I had, he asked me about my surgery, completely inverting the bloody appointment so that I was informing him. The only thing I came away more knowledgeable about is where, precisely, my womb is now (attached to my bladder and front adominal wall, apparently). Anyway, the good news is that I don’t have to take the contraceptive injection now; as it is, apparently, not a safe long-term solution, instead they’d like me to get back onto the same combined oral contraception pill I was on before having S, only this time I’m only to take breaks four times a year in oppose to the usual twelve. I go back in six months for a check-up, and will now continue to do so until such time I decide to take the hysterectomy. Fun fun fun. He did talk about things like more laparoscopies and scans and such, but it’s probably all bollocks. We all know that they won’t do anything unless they categorically have to.
The whole thing has soured this whole experience. Although I got shunted to a different ward due to overloading the day following my surgery, the food was fucking rank and I didn’t have my bed changed because they ran out of clean sheets etc. etc. etfuckingcetera, the staff were generally kind and professional and patient and good at what they did. The surgerical team were outstanding and never in my life have I been surrounded by so many sweet, kind and wonderful people (at least, they were when I was awake). But the whole outpatient experience is a fucking joke. Honestly, how hard is it to ensure that someone a month after surgery sees her own consultant in her post-op check? He was bloody there because my registrar went to ask him something. If he was there, how hard would it have been to let me see him and not someone who didn’t have the faintest idea about me or my medical history? I know it’s the NHS and they’re broke and pushed for time and everything else, but how difficult would it have been to have done this for someone who’s been newly diagnosed with something and just wanted some answers from the man who, on paper, was supposed to be making me better?
So I’m not sure if it’s dealing with all the emotional rubbish that this entails or what, but Christ, I’m fed up. I know I’m so, so lucky to have had this diagnosed and sorted reasonably quickly, and still have both ovaries and tubes functioning a-ok, but I’m so tired of it all.
Never mind M’s bad gunky – looks like I have a sizeable amount on my own. I just want to go back to work and get back to some semblance of normality. The fact that I can’t even stand in a bookshop for twenty minutes is just another reminder of how far I am from that right now – oh, as well as putting a swift a brutal halt to any plans we had to go bowling this afternoon.
And now I need more painkillers. Sigh.
Comments: (6)
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On 25 March, 2007 at 2:56 pm, Sasha said:
:( The NHS really does suck – it is BEYOND ridiculous you coulnd’t even see your own doctor! *shakes head in dispair* I so hope I don’t ever get seriously ill here, I’d so be back in a Dutch hospital if I could, because our health care system is at least not as crappy as the NHS.
Here’s to hoping the pain killers kick in soon! *sending you good vibes*
On 25 March, 2007 at 5:05 pm, Claire said:
I wish that I could say I was surprised, unfortunately your post-op appointment is actually pretty standard. :(
Just over 9 years ago, I had major multi-level Orthopaedic surgery at Great Ormond Street Hospital. (no less ;) ) Yet throughout the 5 post-op appointments and 18 months of intensive rehabilitation treatment, I saw a multitude of Registrars on numerous occasions and my actual Consultant probably only twice at the very most.
Here’s hoping that time brings healing as well as better answers.
Take care of yourself x
On 25 March, 2007 at 5:14 pm, Mar said:
I hate doctors, plain and simple.
.
On 25 March, 2007 at 6:31 pm, Maureen said:
Sorry to hear about your Hospital appointment.I am not surprised at all.The husband broke his leg in 3 places last year.He was moved 9 times 4 days they forgot his breakfast,once they were arguing over who was going to bargain with another ward for Morphine they never gave him a wash for 4 days,they also never swept the ward,it was filthy.Trying to find someone for help was next to impossible and if you did they never spoke English.We used to bring in food from outside.My friend had a heart attack and was left on a trolley for 18 hours.I hope to god I never need the N.H.S.Get well soon.
On 26 March, 2007 at 7:42 am, Tanya said:
Oh dear. I really hope you’re not back at work today, and that you’re taking it easy in bed.
Get better very very soon xx
On 26 March, 2007 at 6:53 pm, Vixx said:
Thanks, everyone. I think I was having a blue day (well, week if I’m honest – still feel crap) but you all rock. Thank you. :)
V xx