D-Day

Weight: 15.1lb

Weight lost: 1 stone 2lbs



Well I’m writing this the day after so it can be rightly presumed that all went well. But I want to document the whole procedure for prosperity!



Got to the hospital at 12.30 and was admitted to the ward for all of the routine tests, blood pressure, blood sugar, heart rate etc. Blood pressure was up but that was no great surprise. I've just remembered that I had a bit of an obsessive compulsive half hour when I first got there. I cleaned my room. I kid you not. I had bought some anti-septic, MRSA busting wipes and me and mom cleaned the whole bed (obviously not the sheets) and all of the surfaces. I then left my alcoholic hand rub out to make sure the nurses took note. LOL.


I wanted to take full advantage of the in-patient experience by getting a nice, munty, pre-op medication – got to love those pre-op meds. But the consultant explained that he would only let me have one if I was really anxious and explained why it would be better not to have it. Here goes:


Firstly they like you to be mobile up to the very last moment to reduce the risk of a blood clot.

1. If I was all drowsy from a pre-op then this would double the time I was immobile and therefore double the chance of a blood clot.
   


2. Because most people who have weight loss surgery are large (by definition), this makes them a manual handling risk. If you are able to get yourself on to the operating table then this halves the risk as the team then only have to move you once.
   
   Well, when he explained it like that, I felt bad for even thinking of abusing the prescription medication.

So at 2.30pm I get myself ready for theatre. They did provide disposable knickers – which I was really glad about. I was paranoid enough about them examining all of my dreaded wobbly bits without having my twinkle on display as well! On went the attractive surgical nightgown and the even more attractive anti-thrombosis stockings.

At 3pm the nurse came up to fetch me, my mom did really well and didn’t lose the plot completely, in fact she did well up a little but didn’t actually cry. Instead she went to the local town for some retail therapy. Nice one mom :)

I walked down to theatre. Firstly went into the anaesthesia room where I had a nice chat with the nurse who checked for any metal in my hair band and then, bless her, plaited my hair again. I had a cannula placed in the back of my hand to administer the anaesthetic. Walked into the actual operating theatre, which was lovely and bright – why am I surprised? They’re hardly likely to have mood lighting.

The operating table was like the table that they administer the lethal injection to people on death row in the states. You climb onto it, wiggle your bum down so it’s resting over a bar, your feet go into foot holders and your arms out like you’re being crucified. Right arm out, strapped down and monitoring blood pressure, left one strapped down and being given the anaesthesia. I remember starting to feel that warm sinking feeling and my last words muttered were some nonsense about not playing any Bon Jovi (how very random of me, must have been the nerves) when I was asleep as “I hate soft rock”. Clearly I am a lunatic. Apparently once you’re under the anaesthetic they tilt the table so you are in an almost standing position during the operation.

Next thing I know I’m in the recovery ward with a lovely nurse chatting away and making all the right reassuring noises. Then I’m wheeled back up to the room (don’t remember that bit – must have nodded off). But back in my room, 2 hours after the operation, I’m texting Jack Spratt to tell him how I’m doing. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I was expecting. I had a saline drip and the oxygen mask but, within 10 minutes, I was taking sips of water and feeling blummin’ well chuffed about the whole thing. Also, had these bizarre massaging socks that massage your calf muscles to prevent any DVTs. They were lovely – really soothing.

The wounds, as you can see below weren’t even bandaged. Instead they are glued closed. I had one moment of panic when my mum shouted, “you’re bleeding” and one of the wounds had opened slightly. They popped a sterile dressing on and peace was restored.

They came in around, what seemed like every 15 minutes, but may have been every half an hour to take blood pressure, temperature and pulse. I had a heparin injection and a soluble painkiller. By 8pm I had the drip out and had my first cup of tea. Luuurverly. I was famished when I went to theatre but the hunger was definitely gone when I came back and still has not returned.

Around 8.30pm the dietician came up and talked me through the next month’s eating. More of that another day. At 9pm the consultant popped in and told me that it had all gone very well, that my liver was nicely shrunk and that I only needed a medium sized band. He had explained earlier that he uses 3 different sizes of band, small, medium and large. This, he said, ensured that you would get the maximum restriction even before your first fill. Yee-hah! I slept quite fitfully and ended up getting up at 4.30am. Not because I was in pain but I just couldn’t sleep and was itching to walk about. So had a long shower and got dressed and started today’s tea drinking in earnest.

22 HOURS POST-OPERATIVELY - EXCUSE MY BELLY

Consultant came in at 7.30am and had a look at the wounds. He explained what each one was for and hopefully I’ve got it right above. Then it was another suppository up the bum and another heparin injection in the tummy. Jack and mom arrived by 10am and I was home by 10.45.

I am not in any pain – it’s more like the feeling when you’ve been to the gym (when was that exactly?) and you over-do the sit-ups. A little discomfort in my left shoulder and a slightly achy neck, but, not painful, just a very mild aching. I’ve been told to keep moving and to take a gentle walk on Sunday for half an hour.

Blimey. So there you have it. I think I’ve been extremely fortunate and although I was very worried, it wasn’t a tenth as bad as I thought it would be.