A week has passed since my bowel resection (official name is the title of this blog, but its difficult to remember, so I will call it by many other names).
In preparation for the surgery I had to take part in a low residue diet for 3 days before to help make sure I was as clear as possible. Alongside the diet I was taking a natural laxative called Senokot twice a day. This made work very difficult as I was running to and from the toilet all day.
On the night before the operation I had to drink 4 special drinks which were designed to keep me hydrated and to keep my bowel ticking over. I had 2 more of these drinks on the morning of the op. I was later told that these drinks were designed to keep my bowel “switched on” to aid a speedy recovery. I was taking part in an Enhanced Recovery Scheme which would allow me to leave hospital and be back to normal much quicker than older techniques. The scheme was helped by having keyhole surgery.
I was nervous and worried on the days running up to the operation. It’s a scary thought, somebody chopping you up and removing bits of organs. When it came to the day I was feeling pretty ok, I just wanted to crack on and get it over and done with.
We turned up to the hospital at 7am (far too early for us) and we were shown to a bed. We sat for half an hour or so, trying to guess where we were in the queue and what surgery the people around us were having. These are all things we would never find the answer to, oh well it was a good game non-the-less.
We were asked questions that everybody else after that would ask, things like: Are you allergic to…? Do you know why you’re here? When did you last eat? Etc. All the generic questions you get asked no matter what you’re in hospital for.
I was asked to strip and put some delightful paper pants on with a gown over the top in the normal way (bottom sticking out of the back) and one on back to front (to keep some dignity and keep my bottom hidden). When it came time to go down, I was to don a foil blanket which would help keep my temperature stable and make me look like a roast turkey (see the photo). Before I was called to go down, I sent many “cheerful” texts to family and friends who were wishing me well. I also spent some time holding onto my wife and telling her where important documents were in the house and my secret stash of emergency cash, just in case. My biggest fear at this point was leaving my wife alone and not the surgery.
The conveyor belt kept on rolling and it was my time to be led down to surgery. My wife joined the nurse and I, only able to go as far as the double doors into the surgical ward. We were given a minute to hug and say our “see ya laters”. I went into the surgical room and was greeted by a nurse who sat and chatted with me for half an hour. This was nothing important, just a means to keep me relaxed whilst the surgeons finished up with their previous “client”. A man in blue replaced the nurse and asked me all the same questions again. Booooorrring! “Just get on with it please before I lose my mind”
I was led to a room where the anaesthetist’s team were. He undid my gown and got me to lie under a blanket and remove my paper pants. I was now naked under a lovely light blue, hospital blanket. More of the same questions were asked. Everybody was getting very serious now, my joking slowed down and my breathing stepped up. I was trying to remain calm and positive, not easy when you’re naked on your back knowing these people are going to help with all the cutting and blood. A cannula was inserted into my arm, along with an injection of something. A mask followed the injection; it was placed over my nose and mouth, then BLACK.
The very next thing I remember was a nurse telling me to cough. Cough! She kept saying, “Benjamin, you need to cough for me please”. She was getting mad, and shouting quite sternly “Cough Benjamin, Cough!” She needed me to clear my lungs to help prevent infection; all I wanted to do was sleep. I felt as though I had been abducted by aliens for experiments. I could barely lift my head to look around the room. I was aware of many people walking around and some other patients in their beds. I tried to cough, but dear lord it hurt. It hurt so much that I think I called the nurse a bitch. Im normally pretty nice, but she pushed me to that. I was groggy and in pain, I did not want to cough. I kept falling in and out of sleep. Sleep, that’s all I wanted to do, it was so lovely and peaceful and pain free in my sleep.
Soon I was on the ward where I would be spending my time whilst in hospital. They had to transfer me to my bed, this involved painful movement. Nope! I couldn’t, I wouldn’t, it hurt too much. I tried to be as cooperative as possible. At one point I remember trying to be as limp as possible so the people around me could shuffle and shape me however they wanted to. In the end they got a board to slide me onto as an intermediate step. This was so awful. My wife tells me the nurse who was with her around the corner kept reassuring her that they were not brutally murdering me. Eventually I made it onto the bed and at long last I could relax. I saw my wife and was immediately happy. I think I told her I love her, if I didn’t say it, I was damn well thinking it. I was acting very drunk, all Sleepy and groggy. I was wearing an oxygen mask on to help clear my body of the anaesthetic. At one point I pulled my mask off and told my wife that there was nowhere to put my sunglasses as the case was in the car. The drugs were clearly having an effect. I was given a “clicker” which attached to my arm allowing me to administer painkillers when required. I was on this constantly for the first few hours, only letting up when I was asleep. I wish I could have pressed it when I was asleep to stop myself being woken up by the awful pains.
I was still being encouraged to cough, but it was so painful I couldn’t manage more than a whimper and a small exhale of air (imagine a mouse blowing out candles). They tried to get me to eat which at the time seemed ridiculous, but later on turned out to be a way of keeping my bowel “switched on”. The longer the bowel stayed at rest, the longer it would take to restart. I did try eating toast but would quickly vomit. Sometimes I would take a bite of toast, then fall asleep, with my wife trying to wake me up and remind to chew and swallow before sleeping. It was very difficult to swallow, at the time I was unsure why, but it turned out my throat was pretty scratched from all of the pipes that they stick down your throat to keep you alive during surgery. The pipes had also been pushing against my lip, so that was swollen and sore too.
I went through the same things over and over – eating, vomiting, sleeping, talking rubbish and pain. Eventually the time came for my wife to leave. This was when the fun started. As part of the enhanced recovery scheme I was supposed to get out of bed for at least 30 minutes on the day of the op. So at 8.30pm, 8 hours after having surgery they swung me out of bed, threaded my bag of wee (I still had a catheter) through some pants, so that my ass wasn’t showing (Up until that point I was naked except for a gown that covered my front), stood me up and pivoted me onto a chair. 45 minutes of a painful seated position and awkward sleep went by until a nurse returned to help me get back into bed. That was very difficult, but I now see that it needed to be done.
That night I slept ok, waking every hour or 2 for observations (blood pressure, temperature and pulse) and also to click the pain relief. In the morning it was decided that because I hadn’t used my “clicker” much, they would remove it. I hadn’t used it because I had been asleep, how rude! I was encouraged to get out of bed and eat. This wasn’t too bad I guess, still painful but I was less groggy and a bit more determined, my appetite also began to slowly return.
At around lunch time a Physio guy came to see me and helped me to walk to the end of the ward. He assumed my catheter would of been removed by the time he came to help me, but it hadn’t so he had to hold my bag of wee while trying to encourage me on my 60 meter walk. I got back to my bed and was knackered. I was very proud of my achievement. My catheter was removed shortly after which s not a dignified procedure. The nurse deflated the balloon that was holding the catheter in my bladder then she had to hold the end of my, erm, (I’m going red writing it) penis (Queue childish giggles) to pull the tube out. It wasn’t painful, just very weird.
I was now free of all drips and catheters so could roam the ward and use the normal toilets. I was told that I had progressed well, but to be able to leave the hospital I needed to pass a stool. This was difficult and was made more difficult by the pain relief. The Tramadol I was taking and Codeine both cause constipation, but I needed to take them to help keep the pain at bay. My first few bowel movements were, as described by the nurses “Horroriffic”. They were full of congealed blood (black blood) and were pretty horrible. These lasted for roughly a day and a half; they were not painful but were slightly worrying due to the amount that passed through. There wasn’t anything to worry about though; this was just the aftermath of the surgery. Once this had cleared through it was another day or so before I started passing “normal Stools”. To do this I stopped the Tramadol, which helped to release the grip my bowel had.
The doctors and nurses were happy with my progress and let me out on the fourth day. Day 4. 4 days after having serious surgery they said I was able to go home. In the past, before keyhole surgery, I would have been in there for at least 2 weeks, maybe more with a much longer overall recovery time. My recovery should be around 4-6 weeks depending on personal progress. This is pretty incredible, especially after talking to a few other people who had had the same op but non-keyhole. They had to take 2-3 months off work to recover, mostly to let the stomach wall heal (not sure if that is what it’s called, but I’m basically talking about the bit where they cut into you)
Being at home was very scary. At home I was no longer being looked after; it was up to me (and my wife of course) to make sure I kept myself alive and well. My wife pre-prepared my meals as she would be at work during the day. I sneakily did some chores around the house when she was at work. I was told to take it easy and to be fair I was. All I could do was shuffle around the flat tidying things as I went. I wasn’t being silly, like doing the vacuuming or anything that involved excess movement or force. I was moving papers into the recycling, moving used glasses into the kitchen, you know, simple but useful things. This really helped to keep my fitness up and my motivation.
On my 2nd day at home I braved the outside world. I shuffled around the apartment block, taking steady and light footsteps (Anything to firm or bouncy really jolted my bowel and hurt). I tried my best not to jiggle my insides about. I took a rest half way round, but I could not get comfortable on the wooden bench, so I soon got up and carried on. Whilst out on the walk I saw a friend who kindly said I looked like someone from Shaun of the Dead (a zombie movie!). How rude, but he did have a point. I was hunched over and shuffling with very tired and “dead” looking eyes.
Night times were the worst for me. I find it very difficult to get in the right position when in bed. It is so tricky trying to find a position that is the least painful but comfortable enough to fall asleep. It did get easier and eventually I could lie on my side without too much fuss (about day 5 of being home). On day 3 I stopped taking my strong painkillers on recommendation of my consultant, only taking them when I really needed them. Paracetamol is really good at taking the edge off the pain, so I am sticking with this as I write.
I am eating as normal, just in smaller amounts and supplementing my diet with a couple of Fortisip’s everyday to help keep my weight and strength up. I have been told to graze throughout the day instead of eating large meals, but I find this difficult to do. What do you eat when you graze? I much prefer a sandwich or something cooked. Food seems to be going pretty well to be fair, with only large meals causing minor problems. The only real problem I have, other than the pain and discomfort, is loose stools. Generally I have had diarrhoea since getting home. This was said to be normal, but it does get annoying having to run to the loo when you’re in pain and cannot run! I haven’t been caught short yet, although on my first day I did wee a little bit without noticing. I put this down to heavy painkillers and my mind being elsewhere.
On day 4 after getting home (day 7 after surgery) things are still going well. The pains are dying down, still bad, but much improved. The dressing was taken off the wounds on day 2 of being at home and they seem to be healing well. I keep catching a stitch when getting dressed or trying to sleep, but there has been no weeping or anything else horrendous. When showering I am careful not to let the water jet hit my wounds, just because they are still sore and when drying I just dab the wounds with the towel. When having my first shower at home I did notice my thigh had been shaved, I haven’t had chance to ask why yet. I can’t see any needle marks or broken skin so I am a little perplexed by this, any ideas?
When speaking to a friend who had the same “bits” removed as me, she advised I get my Vitamin B12 levels checked later down the line. She says that the area removed specialised in extracting B12, so over time you become under nourished in this vitamin. She now has 3 monthly injections as oral tablets would not work due to there being nowhere for it to be absorbed. I will chat with my consultant the next time I see him and find out what he thinks about this. Again, any experience is kindly received.
I am sorry this is so long. I really hope you read all of it, especially if you are due to have this type of surgery as I think I would of found this quite handy to read.