The Return

I am back at work now. It's nice, although kinda weird. It was nice pottering around Islington. I had time to do things I don't normally have time for, like taking my duvet to the launderrette (it doesn't fit in the washer at home), running errands, going to the gym when it wasn't full of smelly, testosterone dick-heads, receiving visitors, baking, going to the shops when they aren't packed of tired, stressed out office workers....

..basically I lived the life of a housewife and quite enjoyed it, although I think I would have gone mad if I kept it up much longer! I think I would love to work just 3 days a week and have two days to do errands and get away from the crowds!

The Op

There was a great deal of confusion at the RNTNE when I went in. They did not have any beds for me on the Tuesday. The op wasn't til Wednesday so it wasn't a big issue. I had to wait around for a few hours while I spoke to nurses, doctors and was admitted, then I went out with my mom.

I came in at 8:30 the next day, it turned out my op wasn't until 2pm anyway. I was quite angry that they would have kept my 24 hours BEFORE the operation for no clear reason.

We waited, and waited. I was hungry as well. I hadn't eaten since the night before.
They came for me shortly after 2pm. I had been given 2 extra strength paracetamols and an anti-neaseant so they wouldn't have to use gas as anesthetics, since they had made me very sick in the past.

The anesthetics were, great, I was out in a minute; however, when I came round, I still had a tube stuck down my throat. I panicked, thinking I was still in the operating table, I signaled for it to be taken out and it was. I then thought I was at DTPM.

I became very chatty and lucid quickly (years of drug abuse, you see), which I think I weirded out the nurse. They gave me an oxygen mask, which I found irritating, and it impaired my breathing more than it helped it. I kept pulling it off to chat to the nurse. So they send me back to the ward.

The ward was horrible and noisy. It looked very post-war. Icky. There were no TV's or anything. There was a day room with a TV for patients, but I wasn't in any condition to go walking about yet. Or read. Or anything. I did manage to get up and go to the toilet while the one of the nurses tried to find my mother.

The surgeon appeared after a short while. I felt quite good, and clearheaded, I was already quite certain that the myringoplasty had not taken place. It tends to make you disoriented and nauseous. The doctor firmed this.

When the got in there they discovered that the previous graft had been sucked through the perforation and latched itself on to the ear bones, and over the years more skin and cells had grown over it, covering them completely. This is called cholesteatoma, and can be dangerous (apparently fatal in extreme cases).

They removed the growth, which revealed 2 of the 3 little ear bones. The other was missing. Naturally, it was still in there somewhere, but they weren't sure where. So they had to stop there. Most people's ears have an in built treadmill that shoves everything out of the ear (this is how wax gets out), unfortunately, mine is on reverse and brings things INTO the ear. This is because my eustachian tubes don't work.

I now have to go for a CT scan to locate the bone, and then they will figure out how to proceed. This means more surgery, but I am absolutely dreading going back to that ward. It was horrendous.

I was gobsmacked by the state of the hospital. I had never seen anything like it in Canada or Argentina. My mom was shocked by it all.

The ward was noisy. The nurses station was IN the ward, which I had not seen before. I could hear the night nurses yammering all night. The lady next to me didn't have a voice box so she spoke my putting a machine that looked like a microphone up to her throat. She sounded like Stephen Hawkins. And she was talkative. It was very disconcerting after a while. There were people on some weird machines that sounded like someone was hoovering, all.night.long. And someone was snoring loudly.

My bed was in the far end, next to the nurses cupboard where they kept their street clothes and belongings, so I was constantly being interrupted while they got their gear. Around 7am or so I was woken by a nurse actually using my bed for support while she put her shoes on.

I had an argument with the nurses at 3:30am. I couldn't sleep as I'd done sweet f.a. all day and because of the noise, so decided to go to the dayroom to watch TV but they wouldn't allow me to because "the nurses take their breaks there." I was well angry. The room is supposed to be for patients. I had this annoying, huge bandages covering most of my head, I had been cut open, and being forced to spend the night at the hospital for reasons I couldn't fathom.

I was told to read. I explained that I had already read 4 magazines that evening. They seemed impressed, but I was desperate. They told me to go back to bed. I got pretty angry, as I was being treated as a prisoner or child. It fucks me off thinking my tax money pays their wages. "Try to sleep" they said. I said how can I sleep when I haven't done anything all day except wait, and with all the loud, irritating noises coming from all directions. They just looked at me blankly.

I managed to only sleep one hour between 7am (when the hoover machines were taken away) and 8am when the Doctor came to take my bandages off.

I was told I would be discharged presently, so I got ready. I waited for my mom (who had over slept.) I was lying in bed when I was told to get up, so the nurses could move my bed as they needed to get into the cupboard next to it to do a stock take. I was too tired to be fucked off. But I am now.

They'd forgotten to get my sickness certificate, as well, so I had to wait half an hour while they tracked down the Doctor to sign it.

So yes, a letter of complaint will be on its way to the Trust. Mainly about having to spend unnecessary time in the hospital (if they hadn't been short of beds, I would have spent 25 hours in hospital BEFORE my op, but only about 18 AFTER-does that sound right to anyone?), walking up to find a nurse using my bed to hold on to while she put her shoes on, and the night nurses.

But a big thank you for all your calls, visits and texts!