Convalescence

Is it bad that I didn't really know what that word meant before this whole drama?!

I thought that the hardest part of this episode would be when I was in hospital. And yes, to choose one particular time, the day post operation was very hard and the bleakest individual point. I was so nauseous, tired and had staff coming to observe me and my changing colour chest at 60 minute intervals. I so wanted a family member with me, even if it was just to keep people out! The funniest visitor that day was the insurance rep. I had started crying when she walked in and asked, "How are you?" Sweet intention I am sure, but asking my name as she wrote me my get well soon card....I stayed lying down, smiled bleakly and explained that today was not the best day to visit.

As time went on though my skin returned to its mzungu shade and the recovery began. As well as beating the infection I like to think that I have also beaten my phobia of needles. Perhaps beaten is too strong a word, but I am sure I am less dramatic and a bit calmer!

It has now been over two weeks since I was discharged and I can honestly say they have been the toughest. After a disastrous attempt at a return to work I was released and advised to return to the UK for rest and TLC. These past few weeks have been so boring! It drives me crazy when people tell me to rest and take it easy, when that is all I do and have done for the last 37 days, yet am so bored and frustrated, I want to be active and busy! I have never been a massive TV or film watcher and realize now that personally I need to be around people in order to stay sane and that there are reasons why my lifestyle is as it is, i.e. busy. As I have felt better my waking hours have increased which is great, except that my friends here work full time so it has meant more conscious time alone. My energy levels are still increasing but definitely limited so a trip to the supermarket and a shower may be me done for the day. Time management and forward planning when it comes to utilizing energy quotas have really come into play. My best friend turning 30 and me wanting to  celebrate her birthday took careful planning, but I managed it. Even if it did lead to staying in bed till 8pm the next day as was shattered.

I am still not drinking. Starting to miss wine, but don't feel my body is quite up to it yet. My Dr suggested a glass or two the day I left hospital, but decided to not take that advice!

So now to fly home. Kenya is crazily wet at the moment so hoping that British weather won't be too much of a shocker. The rain is set to continue till January so at least I won't miss the sunshine. As time has gone on and boredom has set in I have become down. I miss working so much, and being out and about. A change of scenery will do me good and I hope that I will be returning to Kenya energetic and positive in January as I decide whether my African adventure will end in July or continue for a year or two more.

A major positive and something I am both amazed at and also deeply appreciative of is the support and love I have received here. Often it has come from quite unexpected people and made me realize how manners, warmth and genuine friendliness are vital and offer such great reward. Yes, being away from the UK during this has been hard, but so many people here have offered their homes, families, prayers, resources and time to aid and support me. I have been told off for not taking more people up on their offers and of being too polite to not say when I really am down and in need of company or whatever else. It has made me realize, and I know this is a major cliche, how we can influence and touch people without knowing. My close circle of friends have been phenomenal but the support from people I know much less well has really boosted me too in knowing that they also care. 

Hospital adventures

My first hospital stay was a steep learning curve, I didn’t realise how much went on, and made a fair few mistakes along the way. I cannot fault the hospital though, the staff were amazing, and kept me in good spirits and I was comfortable and well cared for. The nurses in particular were very patient with the amount of times I accidentally set the alarm off. It was too easy to sit on/roll over/pull out. The button was so big, and right next to the bed controls which I found quite irresistible. Having to sit up on my own now is a bit of a struggle and a real hassle! (You can see why it was getting critical that I got out, hospital laziness was really setting in!) I was staying in the Princess Pavilion, what a cool place to be!

The excitement of being discharged is slowly wearing off. Not sure why I woke up at 5am and could not sleep yesterday as was so happy to be going home. My bed here is not as fun, and my back ached last night from being completely horizontal-I just could not resist those buttons! As much as people complain about hospital food, the fact that it is brought three times a day and placed right in front of you with a smile, and was done for me every day for ten days, often with ice cream is treatment I have never before received and sadly may never again. I do still find my left hand enchanting and alluring and like to look at it fully as much as possible (it is very distracting), and am so happy there are no tubes going into it. Grandma always used to say what nice hands I have, I never believed her until now. My left hand is the most beautiful hand I have ever seen, despite the little tube scar!

On a serious note, it was a really tough time and I am so grateful for all the support I received in so many different forms. The Dr said I was hours from the infection developing into septicaemia and me going into intensive care so was hugely appreciative and relieved that he saw me when he did. It is making more sense now why I am so tired and especially now that I am home and can really relax. I think my body is finally admitting that it had been sick for months but can now recover and chill! Last Thursday was a real shock, I really thought I was getting the all clear and would be going back to work full time and getting my life back. When the Dr didn’t even allow me to go home to collect my things, and insisted that the drip be started even before payment was sorted I was scared, but still didn’t quite comprehend that I was ill.

Being away from home was hard. I didn’t want people to know how I was really feeling as knew it wouldn’t help and that also my emotions were all over the place because of the drugs, so tried to at least appear strong and positive (this conscious effort was made after my initial call to Matt saying I was going in!). The nurses were great at boosting me and would often try to make me giggle. They also were jealous of my magazines and would go through them in the evenings choosing their favourites and then ask if they could steal them away whilst I was sleeping if they promised to return them before morning! When I went down to theatre I was wheeled down on a bed and then needed to be transferred to the operating table. I was lying on a blanket and four staff all picked up a corner. I quickly asked what was going on and exclaimed that I could just move over to save them lifting, explaining that I was also rather heavy! They dismissed my concerns and counted to three to all begin lifting. They then found it very funny to all heave and ho before getting the giggles as they lifted me onto the table. I was initially so embarrassed and shocked, before joining them rather nervously laughing. My sense of humour was rather strained with nerves! It did definitely ease tension until of course I had my next burning question. I was also struggling with trying to ignore a song that had got stuck in my head. Before being wheeled down I was watching the news to take my mind off things. REM had just announced that they had split and so there was an item about their career and playing clips of their songs. The last song I heard?! It’s the end of the world as we know it. Oh man, not helpful! But fortunately the operating table turned out to be a distraction. Now I realise that I am not the tiniest, skinniest child, but I am also not the widest, largest man either. The table was so small, and not much wider than me. This intrigued me and I asked if they have different sizes or how they manage. Apparently it is one size fits all (much like the pyjamas). This really baffled me as I imagined large people hanging over the edges and really having to balance body parts carefully which may not be very helpful during surgery. It was then that the anaesthetist, probably having had enough of my questions, picked up my hand…..

As well as getting lots better, my time there was hugely informative, and I feel it is only right to share some golden nuggets of wisdom to possibly save you any possible unnecessary embarrassment in future.

Hospital staff wear uniforms so you can distinguish between their roles

On my first day I was felling quite groggy and spent a while wondering how I was to get dressed with a drip attached. Such simple answers when you know, but it took me asking a nurse to realise that it could be detached! Anyway, my lovely school secretary rang and warned me that my Head and the bursar were on their way to visit and organise the finances. This was to my horror, I was wearing the one size fits all hospital blue pyjamas which were so big they kept falling down and I didn’t have the strength in my hands to pull them tight cos of the drip. My hair was a mess and still with tear stained cheeks from the insertion of the drip and various needles over the last 12 hours (yes, I know, big wimpy baby) I was desperate for a shower. I was hurriedly trying to sort everything, when I worked out that I could not do up my bra. I rang the nurse and almost immediately a lady walked in. I asked if she’d mind helping me and was busy rabbiting on about my boss coming in and how I had to look a bit more presentable than I had done ten minutes before. It was only then that the nurse walked in and asked how she could help in response to me pressing the button. I turned to see a lovely member of the catering team helping me dress. Oops!

Doctors have seen it all before

The night before my op the anaesthetist came to see me to talk me through what would happen. As this was my first time under a general I was pretty clueless. My friends had warned me that I would have to be naked, and I argued with them, saying it was ridiculous that I couldn't wear my underwear and pondered whether it was just females who had to go nude (apparently not!) so luckily that didn't come up again, but I was still feeling a bit shy. So when the anaesthetist said that they would put stickers on my chest in theatre, I happily exclaimed, “Ooh good, to maintain my modesty?!” You should have seen his face...and my poor male colleague who happened to be visiting! Sadly that was not the purpose of the stickers. Well, now I know!

Don’t double gamble food choices in one day.

This was very foolish. The hospital was amazing, more like a nice hotel definitely and the food was great. Every day they brought me a menu and I would order for the next day. This was tricky and led to another gem of wisdom; don’t ever skimp on ordering cos not feeing hungry right at that moment. A lot can change! My appetite varied massively but the disappointment came too often as some of the drugs made me ravenous! As Nairobi has a large Indian community, and the hospital is in a particularly Asian area, a lot of the dishes were Asian. Some of the names I couldn’t really work out, and after a few days of choosing everything I knew, I thought it was time to branch out. Definitely a good idea, but not the best one when I decided to try totally unknown foods for every meal of the day. My chocolate supply took a big hit that day!

Remember what you are wearing…or not!

When I finally came round on Sunday it was a little later than I expected, and I woke up to visitors entering my room. I was so supported by friends here and was overwhelmed by the number of people who came to see me which was amazing. On Sunday visitors kept overlapping so by mid afternoon I was keen to get up and needed the loo, but had forgotten that I hadn’t stood, nor dressed since the anaesthetic. I had four people with me, and so started getting out of bed. This was probably my greatest Bambi impression. My legs were just not moving as quickly as I wanted and were not that strong either! I looked down and realised that I was rather nude under my gown (apart from the stickers, though they weren’t covering what I wanted them to!) so pulled the top together, only to realise that the bottom was then gaping. Oh dear. I then swiftly grabbed the bottom only to reveal the top. Oh my word. Fortunately three visitors could only see the Bambi leg wobbles, but my one poor male colleague! He was sitting right in front of me so had a good view, or not! I went to the bathroom and had a silent cry. It was only later when talking to Toby who was also there that I embarrassingly confessed but managed to see the funny side. He could not stop laughing, and asked, “Upstairs or downstairs?” We were both gigging when I answered very red facedly, “Both!!”

There is a silver lining to not being able to walk:

Once I was admitted to hospital and my body started responding to treatment my energy was soon spent fighting the infection and I grew very weak. My Dr wanted me to go for tests at his office, but I was not strong enough to walk so they sent a wheelchair. I was quite teary (surprise, surprise, it is generally my first reaction!) but the man pushing me responded well and lent close to me whispering, “I have a confession, I just can’t stop going fast!” Then off we zoomed! It was so much fun!!! We sped through the corridors and weaved in and out of patients and staff. I loved it! I am now keen to be generous and push any wheel chaired people around as much as possible, and encourage others to do so too. What a way of spreading joy and fun! Babies don’t realise how lucky they are in their prams.