Surgery for clavicle repair. Lots of screws and Meccano involved. 4 inch scar
4pm ish. Outside operating theatre, shitting myself at the thought of surgery. A very nice nurse points at the picture of sheep on the ceiling and asks me to count them while she does something with a needle in my hand. One sheeeeeeeepp…
Strange room. (it’s a ward. I can’t remember the recovery room)
Wife beside me.
Arm in sling
wife lets me know I’ve missed dinner
feeling slightly nauseous. Room is rotating anti-clockwise at around 2rpm.
Nurse sticks something in my ear. thermometer or earwax radar perhaps.
Offers me tea and toast. I accept her kind offer.
Tea and toast arrives. Wife helps me with toast
Vomits first mouthfull of toast. Aimed contents successfully at barf bucket.
Nurse offers me something for the nausea. Stabs me in the thigh with needle the size of a ball point pen. Surprisingly no pain and it was fun to watch. And I usually hate needles.
Room slows to 1rpm.
tea and toast successfully ingested.
Pain. in surprising quantities from shoulder. Same nurse gives me a bottle of painkiller through the drip thing that I’ve got in my hand. I hadn’t noticed that before. (I notice from my chart that at no time have I been given Morphine)
Needs bathroom. Not too badly. I don’t want to use my buzzer as I think that the nurses probably have genuinely sick people to deal with, so I’ll ask the next time one of them visits to stick something in my ear. When she arrives, she helps me stand up. I go to the loo, deciding to sit down as the bog has no horizon for reference. I return towards bed when…
OHFRAKTHATHURT!!! The nurse has found some sort of stuck on electrode on my back that they left on after surgery. She removed it quickly along with some back hair. That really nipped.
It’s about midnight now. Halfway down my upper arm is numb, along with an area from my clavicle down to most of my upper left breast. I’m feeling like I’ve got four or five beers in my system. Cheap foreign beers at that. I pity the nation that has to refer to these evil ales as domestic.
6.30am ish, thermometer in ear again. Diziness level down to about one beer, but it was a good beer. Equivalent to organic real ale from the Black Isle, matured in Scotch whisky casks and left to mature in my cupboard for six months. 9.7% ABV. A good feeling.
8am ish. Breakfast. Not too bad. One of the nurses offers to help me shave, but I let him know I’m happy enough with a beard. He is kind enough to help me wash though.
10am. Physio gives me this wonderful ice pack which is replenished from an insulated ice flask at the side of my bed. Cold, but oh so comfortable. I get a book, and doze between pages.
Lunchtime. Roast beef, roast spuds, gravy and brussel sprouts. I look longingly at the sprouts. They have been boiling all morning, are white and the size of marbles. To me they look lovely, and I want to taste their mushy goodness. I realised then that I must be drugged or mentally off centre, as i have never eaten a sprout in my life, and I don’t intend to.
After lunch, I have been fed, well rested and I’m able to move around. The feelings of drunkenness have past. Some oral painkillers are keeping the pain away, and the numbness in the skin around my shoulder starts to retreat.
24 hours later and I’m feeling normal again.
TL : DR - awake, asleep, awake, drugged, pain recedes, recovers…