View from a bed

To be precise; a hospital bed. Yep - that's right - my leg got progressively nastier with first the cut itself becoming infected followed by a haematoma developing that got itself to the size of a grapefruit then also became infected.  Eek!

The long and short of it is that I went for a dressing change on Wednesday, the 'tissue viability specialist' was none too happy with the state of my leg and called the hospital. They agreed I should be sent in and I was told they'd need to operate to get rid of the haematoma; which at this point we didn't realise was also infected.  I'd get done either weds evening or thurs morning, either way I'd be home thursday; having spent my first night since I was born in hospital and had my first ever operation.  My state of calm (or lack thereof) wasn't helped by the knowledge that the Chap was working away so would not be on hand for morale boosting hugs but at least it was just one night and I'd be home by the next day.

So we must ask ourselves why I'm writing this on an annoying touch screen pay as you go contraption hanging from the wall above my bed in the RD&E hospital on a sunny sunday morning?  Welllllllll... 

It took some time to get me admitted, even with them expecting me.  I got assigned my bed at 10pm weds having arrived at 4.30pm.  So no op weds. This was when they first concluded that the grapefruit sized lump in my leg was infected too and swiftly got a cannula - the thing in your hand for drips to attach to; fitted to my left hand and shunted some antibiotics straight into my system.

Thursday morning brought the news that although I was scheduled to be the final procedure of 4 booked in for that afternoon, there was a chance I'd be done in the morning as there was only 1 person booked in then, and of the afternoon's batch; I was the only person already physically on site.  Oh false hope thy crusher of the spirit - it was not to be. After being 'nil by mouth' (which includes water to my surprise - remember I never had an op before) since 7 thursday morning; so in effect since the 2 bits of toast I scrounged on getting to my bed at 10pm the night before, I was taken to theatre at 5.40pm and knocked out at 6.10.  Op went fine but on awakening I found I had a vacuum pump drain thing attached to my leg. It transpires that when the sugeon went in they found the damage was deeper and more extensive than anticipated so had to fit the drain. 
This had 2 knock on effects for me; firstly came the news that I'd have to have a second operation in 3 days time to remove it and close the wound. Secondly, although I was hopeful both friday and saturday mornings of being let home, the extent of the damage and the drain in my leg put the kibosh on that.
So, here I still am and I've just received the news that they have me on the list for theatre today at 12 noon.  Barring any emergency cases coming in hopefully this means I may be able to go home tomorrow.  I am crossing my fingers because no matter how lovely all the staff are that have been looking after me, it's not the same as being in your own home. I miss the Chap and Zeke and I'm looking forward to big hugs with them both.
(I'd also quite like a meal with a texture other than easily-masticated-with-no-teeth sludge but that's another post.)
So, all being well, I'll next post after op #2.
Oh - latest news is it could be earlier; 10/10.30 possibly.  Fingers firmly crossed now blog buddies!

Older, certainly no wiser though!

I've just turned another birthday older.  [36 - shhh!!]  Mixed feelings - really still don't feel like 'an adult' whatever that means.  Still enjoy celebrating my birthday with my friends; and this coming weekend I shall see my family too.  Not massively taken by the 36 thing - no longer in my mid thirties then!  Hey ho.  Anyway, due to my work I had to spend the morning until 2.15pm sitting in our accommodation blocks booking new students in and repeating the same info over and over again.  Truly joyous when it's sunny and lovely outside!!  [I'm well aware that sounds whingey but having done over 7 years in retail I've done my time working weekends and when the only weekend day of the entire year I have to work is my birthday...well frankly that's just insulting really.]  After this however we took a wee bike ride down to The Double Locks, a picturesque pub on the canal about 3ish miles down river from us.  We had a few bevvies, more people came, some left and soon enough it was time to head back up river to the second designated meeting spot of The Prospect on the quay.  Which is the point it went a little bit pear shaped for me.  I totally admit that this was entirely my own fault as well.  I will also at this juncture warn you that if you are a nervous disposition, or dislike the sight of blood scroll no further, or avert your eyes from the pictures.  This picture here i (it's ok it's safe!) is your last line if you like, with my injury-appropriate mug and sunny (and messy) back garden this morning it's your barrier between here and what lies beneath.  Don't say I didn't warn you.

Being newly aged [in my head the difference between 35 and 36 is fairly vast due to the aforementioned perceived leave taking of my mid-thirties] I guess maybe I was having a mini crisis moment, or possibly (and more likely if I'm honest) it was my natural 'why not try that' compulsion coupled with a couple of pints that led me to think as we left the 'Locks that it would be a good idea to pedal until I was going as fast as poss on the flat then pull a massive skid on the gravel. I think there was a certain amount of 'I never did this as a kid so why not do it now' going on as well.  What I missed out on by not doing it as a kid however is the small but vital piece of information that you don't suddenly jam both brakes on, oh no - just the back one as The Chap later informed me.  Oops!!  Bike and I came to an abrupt halt and fell over in as undignified way as possible with me ending up on the floor intimately entwined with said bike and covered in gravel dust and pine tree needles.  Hey ho - get up and dust yourself down, no worries.  As I turned to that chap I said to him 'That's gonna bruise' simultaneously patting my leg where the handlebars had clipped it a beauty.  Er - thinks I, that's wet - bring hand to level with face - my fingers are red.  Hmmmm....  that wasn't really the plan!!  Quick investigation reveals (remember my warning - I'm gonna make these pics small though) that I appear to have smacked into the handle bar with such force I've  ripped a big gash in my leg.  Which now has the underlying subcutaneous layer of fat coming out of it.  (Sorry - I really did warn you though.)  Also it's bleeding somewhat. 

Luckily one of our party is a trained nurse so she got the pub's first aid kit and stuck me back together with plasters and bandaged me up with strict instructions to get it sticky stripped back together properly in the morning.   Another friend took my bike back up the river path and we got a cab and all was ok.  Met further friends at The Prospect and took it easy until the fatal moment another friend (who shall remain nameless) forgot my injury and launched herself onto my lap.  Seconds after which I thought to myself - I can feel blood dripping down my leg now.  Quietly let The Chap know and skeddaddled into the ladies to check it out.  Yep - blood now dripped off me onto the floor all over the place; somewhat less clever than earlier.  The Chap had at this juncture unbeknownst to me dispatched another friend after me who in turn got the second qualified nurse in our party to come and have a look.  Long story short (though tbh this won't really cut the entire post by much at all) against my wishes (and without my knowledge) an ambulance was called and I was bundled off to A&E in it.  Tsk - pesky friends eh??!  [I don't mean that - they were great!!]

The ambulance peeps were fab, and suitably impressed at the amount of damge done considering my jeans hadn't even ripped.  They patched me up and got me safely delivered to the hospital where the staff there inspected me, cleaned me, left us sitting for so long I had to wrap myself in a blanket and stumble bare foot across the ward to use the toilet and could also take a pic much to the Chap's disapproval, then eventually got me seen by a doctor who injected the entire area inside and out with local anaesthetic and sewed me up.  Firstly 2 internal stitches then 8 external ones.  Which I found fascinating though the chap less so I feel - he kept telling me not to look away anyway!

So - I've now been signed off from work for the week and I can hardly stumble about the place (stairs are particularly troublesome).  I've been for the dressing to be changed yesterday and will be going again later today, then again on Thursday then in theory all being well to get the stitches removed on Saturday.  For now though I'm just entertaining myself by checking what colour my gargantuan bruised and swollen leg has got to so far. 

Moral of the story - it's the BACK brake only when you want to pull an impressive skid.  Must remember that for next year...

Edit: Went for the wound to be rederessed and this is what it now looks like.  Hmmm - did it good and proper didn't I?  'Proper job' as they say this end of the country!!!

PS - I will make this the last pic (probably) of this I share and try and return to more interesting, useful, informative and hopefully recipe / frugal/ upcycling based posts soon.  :-)