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Allergic to food and immune to diets: my gastric bypass story
- Thread starter Thaialina
- Start date
Thaialina
New Member
I'm back, so don't panic! It's just now I've started getting more active I can't stop!!
Missy and Minime, welcome to the exclusive gang, lol! Smiler, yep you and Minime sent me cards -Thanks!!
Thanks for all the compliments everyone, despite my typos!! I have had discussions about writing something to get published, but I guess it will have to be when more weight falls off.
Gordon's been having a look and is chuffed that you all think he's sweet!
So, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Here's the long awaited chapter 3...
When I awoke (yipee I made it!!), I was very aware of the bright white walls and all the movement around me. A nurse said a few words to me, I have no recollection what it was at all! I lifted my hear and felt a dry nauseous sensation in my throat. I croakily told the uniformed staff who were checking me out that I felt sick and like magic, a cardboard sick bowl appeared on my upper chest. Could I be sick? Oh, no. As soon as I thought I would vomit it passed. I was pleased as I thought that the worst was over. Looking around I could see numerous patients laid on beds in recovery, all in pretty much the same dozy condition as me.
I don't think I've mentioned before that I love to scratch big time. When I was younger I used to get huge heat spots all over my legs and, despite being warned not to, I would scratch until they bled to try to relieve the itchiness. Luckily for me, they never scarred a lot. Thankfully, I don't suffer from heat spots now, but I am a very itchy person. I wouldn't think twice about having a good old scratch of my back, say, even in public. When it itches, I scratch. Actually, it's quite surprising that I am a good scratcher because my nails aren't particularly strong or long. I suppose it's the determination to beat the itch that does it. Going back to my point, I was curiously watching the staff like ants busying themselves in random parts of the room, when my attention was hurriedly taken back to myself as my nose was itching like it never has before. Having awoken a while earlier, I now had a good idea of what was attached to my body. I had velcroed socks around my legs, my drip attached to my hand and a tube that was supplying me with oxygen up my nose. Now, I don't know whether you have ever had a bad itch, but imagine that this was a million times worse. I knew, from having asthma, that these nose tubes could be lifted temporarily and I didn't hesitate to do so and started scratching my nose. When I say my nose, I have a sgidgy nose so it was a case of rubbing the back of my hand against it at full speed, making it move from side to side and make a funny noise, to try to get the itchiness to pass. The nurses panicked, as I think that they thought that I was still away with the fairies due to my husky, groggy voice, and held my hands down to put the tubes back in place. This itchiness in my nose went on for a few hours and, by the time I was safely back in my room, the nurses had wisened to my scratching attempts and gave me an oxygen mask instead of the tubes. I sctatched to my heart's content until in the end my nose was bleeding and I gave up. Returning to the recvery room scene, the nurse explained that while I was under anaesthetic, they had given me a dose of morphene, which can cause itchiness. I was quite shocked when I, finally, started looking around that one of the patients in the bed opposite was stood up! I had seen her in reception that morning and had assumed that she was having the same operation as me. Either anaesthetic knocks some people out more than others or she had not had such major surgery as myself: I will never know. It was, however, enough of a distraction to stop me obsessing about my increasingly itchy nose, which was almost calling me to scratch it!!
Eventually, a porter and a ward nurse arrived to wheel me out of recovery into the comfort and security of my temporary bedroom, where Gordon would be waiting. On the way, I remembered how worried he had been and felt like telling the porter, pushing me, and the nurse, who had hold of the drip, to put their foot down. I recognised the reception area and knew that my corridor was arounnd the corner. i counted the doors and knew that we weren't far. I couldn't wait any longer and shouted out: "Gordon! Gordon!" I knew if it was me waiting for him that I'd want to know he was on the way. I can only imagine what my weak voice sounded like, but, at last, we were together.
Missy and Minime, welcome to the exclusive gang, lol! Smiler, yep you and Minime sent me cards -Thanks!!
Thanks for all the compliments everyone, despite my typos!! I have had discussions about writing something to get published, but I guess it will have to be when more weight falls off.
Gordon's been having a look and is chuffed that you all think he's sweet!
So, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Here's the long awaited chapter 3...
When I awoke (yipee I made it!!), I was very aware of the bright white walls and all the movement around me. A nurse said a few words to me, I have no recollection what it was at all! I lifted my hear and felt a dry nauseous sensation in my throat. I croakily told the uniformed staff who were checking me out that I felt sick and like magic, a cardboard sick bowl appeared on my upper chest. Could I be sick? Oh, no. As soon as I thought I would vomit it passed. I was pleased as I thought that the worst was over. Looking around I could see numerous patients laid on beds in recovery, all in pretty much the same dozy condition as me.
I don't think I've mentioned before that I love to scratch big time. When I was younger I used to get huge heat spots all over my legs and, despite being warned not to, I would scratch until they bled to try to relieve the itchiness. Luckily for me, they never scarred a lot. Thankfully, I don't suffer from heat spots now, but I am a very itchy person. I wouldn't think twice about having a good old scratch of my back, say, even in public. When it itches, I scratch. Actually, it's quite surprising that I am a good scratcher because my nails aren't particularly strong or long. I suppose it's the determination to beat the itch that does it. Going back to my point, I was curiously watching the staff like ants busying themselves in random parts of the room, when my attention was hurriedly taken back to myself as my nose was itching like it never has before. Having awoken a while earlier, I now had a good idea of what was attached to my body. I had velcroed socks around my legs, my drip attached to my hand and a tube that was supplying me with oxygen up my nose. Now, I don't know whether you have ever had a bad itch, but imagine that this was a million times worse. I knew, from having asthma, that these nose tubes could be lifted temporarily and I didn't hesitate to do so and started scratching my nose. When I say my nose, I have a sgidgy nose so it was a case of rubbing the back of my hand against it at full speed, making it move from side to side and make a funny noise, to try to get the itchiness to pass. The nurses panicked, as I think that they thought that I was still away with the fairies due to my husky, groggy voice, and held my hands down to put the tubes back in place. This itchiness in my nose went on for a few hours and, by the time I was safely back in my room, the nurses had wisened to my scratching attempts and gave me an oxygen mask instead of the tubes. I sctatched to my heart's content until in the end my nose was bleeding and I gave up. Returning to the recvery room scene, the nurse explained that while I was under anaesthetic, they had given me a dose of morphene, which can cause itchiness. I was quite shocked when I, finally, started looking around that one of the patients in the bed opposite was stood up! I had seen her in reception that morning and had assumed that she was having the same operation as me. Either anaesthetic knocks some people out more than others or she had not had such major surgery as myself: I will never know. It was, however, enough of a distraction to stop me obsessing about my increasingly itchy nose, which was almost calling me to scratch it!!
Eventually, a porter and a ward nurse arrived to wheel me out of recovery into the comfort and security of my temporary bedroom, where Gordon would be waiting. On the way, I remembered how worried he had been and felt like telling the porter, pushing me, and the nurse, who had hold of the drip, to put their foot down. I recognised the reception area and knew that my corridor was arounnd the corner. i counted the doors and knew that we weren't far. I couldn't wait any longer and shouted out: "Gordon! Gordon!" I knew if it was me waiting for him that I'd want to know he was on the way. I can only imagine what my weak voice sounded like, but, at last, we were together.
no breaks!
Nic318
Post-op Gastric Bypass
Thaialina
New Member
To be honest, I wasn't completely back to normal because it takes a while for anaesthetic to wear off. I can't clearly remember what happened for the rest of the day as I kept drifting in and out of sleep. I was so glad to be in the land of the living, but felt a lot more relaxed because I was with Gordon and knwe that he felt a million times better that I was back and had come through the operation. He was under strict instructions to phone my mum to tell her exactly what was happening at every stage, who was desperate to be with me but couldn't get time off work. He had a long list of family and friends to text, so I think that's what he did when I was dozing. He told me that he and my mum had been worried sick because I had gone to theatre just before 9.30 and wasn't out until around 12.30. The operation takes roughtly an hour and a quarter, but they kept me in recovery until I had come around properly, which is normal.
On my return to my own room, I remember having the socks around my legs plugged into some contraption at the end of the bed which makes the socks inflate and deflate to keep deep vein thrombosis at bay. It felt weird at first, but after a while it became quite relaxing, like a massage. It felt like nurses were continuously in and out of the room checking my blood pressure. They left the strap on my arm until they were happy that my blood pressure was fine. I was still very concerned about my itchy nose, like I said, but once it wore off the pain hit. I asked for pain relief, but as my pupils were pin sized the nurses refused to give me morphene until they returned to normal size. The pain in my keyhole wounds became increasingly agonising, until, I turned to Gordon and cried. He, being my knight in shining armour, went to get someone who quickly allowed me to have morphene. It was in a machine next to my bed and hooked up to my drip. All I needed to do for pain relief from then on was press a button and I would feel almost immediate relief and have a little snooze - again!
On my return to my own room, I remember having the socks around my legs plugged into some contraption at the end of the bed which makes the socks inflate and deflate to keep deep vein thrombosis at bay. It felt weird at first, but after a while it became quite relaxing, like a massage. It felt like nurses were continuously in and out of the room checking my blood pressure. They left the strap on my arm until they were happy that my blood pressure was fine. I was still very concerned about my itchy nose, like I said, but once it wore off the pain hit. I asked for pain relief, but as my pupils were pin sized the nurses refused to give me morphene until they returned to normal size. The pain in my keyhole wounds became increasingly agonising, until, I turned to Gordon and cried. He, being my knight in shining armour, went to get someone who quickly allowed me to have morphene. It was in a machine next to my bed and hooked up to my drip. All I needed to do for pain relief from then on was press a button and I would feel almost immediate relief and have a little snooze - again!
Thaialina
New Member
I recall thinking I was awake, then jumping out of my skin when the blood pressure machine bleeped because I had actually nodded off again. It was strange!
At one point the nurse came in and checked my plasters. I insisted on having a look using a compact mirrorthat I had. I only had five small plasters on the upper half of my belly and one of them had a tiny blood stain. That was it! I couldn't believe it. I also had the first experience of the injections that I had to have injected into my lower belly, under my belly button, for a whole week. They were intended to prevent blood clots. We had already decided that Gordon would give me the injection at home. When the nurse casually asked whether he wanted to do it then, he declined and watched instead. I didn't feel much pain initially, but it ached ever so slightly later on.
I love to drink and wasn't allowed a drink for a while after surgery. It felt like torture! Eventually, Gordon sympathetically adjusted my bed so that I was in a more upright position and gave me a sip of his water to gargle, which really helped my mouth feel less dry. My voice was funny and my throat was very dry and I was delighted when I was allowed to sip water properly. I was only allowed a few mililitres every hour (I think it was 30ml), but that gradually increased to 60ml.
Later on, when I felt as though my voice was somewhere close to comprehensible, I got Gordon to phone my mum. I knew how agonising it was for her to be thinking of me and only having reports from Gordon. I knew that she would be relieved to hear my voice. I can't remember what I said but she did sound pleased to hear my voice, as I was to her hers.
When I had my wits about me, I realised that poor Gordon had been sat around all day and hadn't had a proper meal as the canteen was closed. After some persuasion he left for home, to take the dogs out and to have a bite to eat. While he was gone sent a few text messages, but kept falling asleep mid text! The TV was on, but I couldn't concentrate on anything.
He was back before I knew it. As I had been drinking, I needed the toilet that evening. The nurse brought me a commode and helped me up. I felt dizzy and very unsteady on my feet and I'm sure that I revealed my huge bottom to everyone in the room as I was still wearing the hospital's ever fashionable gown. Elegance is not exactly my strong point at the best of times, but this was even quite bad for me. I noticed that my back was sticky. I was told that it was iodine, which had seeped down my sides during surgery. Nobody said the obvious, that it had gone down in between the numerous rolls of fat that I have around by body like tyres!! I knew that this was the case, but I wasn't bothered in the slightest because the morphine had almost put me on anther planet. Gordon was witness to all this. I have to admit that he has earned a few brownie points for putting up with me!
At one point the nurse came in and checked my plasters. I insisted on having a look using a compact mirrorthat I had. I only had five small plasters on the upper half of my belly and one of them had a tiny blood stain. That was it! I couldn't believe it. I also had the first experience of the injections that I had to have injected into my lower belly, under my belly button, for a whole week. They were intended to prevent blood clots. We had already decided that Gordon would give me the injection at home. When the nurse casually asked whether he wanted to do it then, he declined and watched instead. I didn't feel much pain initially, but it ached ever so slightly later on.
I love to drink and wasn't allowed a drink for a while after surgery. It felt like torture! Eventually, Gordon sympathetically adjusted my bed so that I was in a more upright position and gave me a sip of his water to gargle, which really helped my mouth feel less dry. My voice was funny and my throat was very dry and I was delighted when I was allowed to sip water properly. I was only allowed a few mililitres every hour (I think it was 30ml), but that gradually increased to 60ml.
Later on, when I felt as though my voice was somewhere close to comprehensible, I got Gordon to phone my mum. I knew how agonising it was for her to be thinking of me and only having reports from Gordon. I knew that she would be relieved to hear my voice. I can't remember what I said but she did sound pleased to hear my voice, as I was to her hers.
When I had my wits about me, I realised that poor Gordon had been sat around all day and hadn't had a proper meal as the canteen was closed. After some persuasion he left for home, to take the dogs out and to have a bite to eat. While he was gone sent a few text messages, but kept falling asleep mid text! The TV was on, but I couldn't concentrate on anything.
He was back before I knew it. As I had been drinking, I needed the toilet that evening. The nurse brought me a commode and helped me up. I felt dizzy and very unsteady on my feet and I'm sure that I revealed my huge bottom to everyone in the room as I was still wearing the hospital's ever fashionable gown. Elegance is not exactly my strong point at the best of times, but this was even quite bad for me. I noticed that my back was sticky. I was told that it was iodine, which had seeped down my sides during surgery. Nobody said the obvious, that it had gone down in between the numerous rolls of fat that I have around by body like tyres!! I knew that this was the case, but I wasn't bothered in the slightest because the morphine had almost put me on anther planet. Gordon was witness to all this. I have to admit that he has earned a few brownie points for putting up with me!
mandy-1975
Regular Member
Very exciting read........................
Good to have you back
Good to have you back
good to know sara thanks, ive had a few surgeries and the procedure is the same. yes you have to watch that morphine button as the more you press it in recovery the longer your gonna be in recovery lol. glad to hear you and gordon are on the path to calming down now . what did i hear PHEW!!!
