Confessions of a Pilates Instructors Husband – Part 9

Stephen in hospital just out of theatre

If you can remember my last blog, I announced that I had been told by my consultant that I needed to have both of my hips replaced otherwise I faced an increasingly painful future with ever diminishing mobility.  This news came as a shock to the system, but I soon got my head around it and started to see it as a positive choice rather than a negative.

I admit that I was nervous about the operation as I can remember watching a program on TV many years ago about hip replacements and it is gruesome to say the least.  Any operation that involves the use of a hammer and chisel is never going to be subtle and no matter how skilled the surgeon is, brute force plays a large part in this procedure.

My left hip was scheduled to be replaced on May 4th at University Hospital Durham and I am sitting here writing this on Saturday May 12th, so I have been the proud owner of a new hip for one week.

As you can imagine, it has been quite a week.

I will start the story on the day before my op.

Toilet seat, the grim reality of hip replacements!
The grim realities of a hip replacement!

Op day minus 1

So far, the only evidence I really had that this was actually going to happen was the written word: various appointment letters, prescriptions etc.  Thursday was the day that it was all going to become very real.  A knock at the door and 10 mins later my house was full of various bits of equipment intended to make my recovery safer and more comfortable.  A high chair for sitting in our living room as our chairs are all too low, a perch stool for the kitchen to keep me off my feet (they must have heard about Jill’s cookery prowess and realised that I would still need to spend time in the kitchen or face starvation), furniture raisers to increase the height of my bed and of course the wonderful raised toilet seat and frame.

Seeing all this gear made me realise that it was not just a figment of my imagination and it was in fact all systems go and barring any last-minute cancellations then I was going under the knife tomorrow.

Op day

I slept surprisingly well and packed my bag with all the usual things you would pack for a normal weekend away from home.  Toiletries, shorts, t-shirts, pants, socks, sock putter onner, extended shoe horn and handy grabber.  I know those last 3 aren’t your standard holiday items but these were specifically mentioned in my list of things to bring by my “travel agent”

It was constantly going through my mind that I was still going to get a phone call cancelling the op as this is always a possibility when you are scheduled for elective surgery at a trauma hospital such as Durham. I guess it wasn’t until I had my wrist band on, had kissed Jill a teary goodbye and was putting on my see through disposable knickers and hospital gown that I was now past the point of no return.  I can remember thinking that the last time I wore one of these wrist bands it gave me access to free food, beer and ice cream on holiday. I guess this band gave me the same access albeit without the beer and probably also not quite as much fun.

I will break the rest of my day into 4 areas as they all seemed to have their own experiences which warrant a mention.

Waiting Room –

I was directed to a small waiting room that was occupied by 4 other men.  One was a fella that was having a small cyst removed from his face, one was a fella that had no toes, 8 fingers, a strange bald patch on the back of his head and was getting some minor plastic surgery on his nose.  All of these issues that he had were as a result of a previous surgery that had gone wrong and caused numerous complications, his nickname was “Lucky”.

The other 2 were also in for minor surgery and seemed decent enough blokes to start off with but as the conversation developed it started to take on an uncomfortable tone and they got more and more racist as it went on.  It started with them commenting on their foreign consultant and hoping he had nothing against the English and progressed to full on Islamophobia and I felt as if I had somehow managed to find myself in the middle of an English Defence League meeting.

I faked about 3 toilet visits just to get away from these lovely chaps and was delighted when my name was called to see the consultant to sign my consent form.

Anaesthetic Room –

This procedure is now commonly carried out using a spinal block rather than a general anaesthetic as recovery is quicker and comes with less risks.  The only problem with a spinal block is that it does not prevent you from hearing anything and knowing what my poor hip was about to go through I had no real desire to hear my leg getting butchered.  Basically, I chickened out and asked to be sedated throughout the procedure.  This is apparently a very common request and the anaesthetist readied his “magic milk”.

I was told that I would most likely become very relaxed and therefore not be concerned by what was going on or I may fall asleep.  I hoped for the latter!

The spinal injection was something else that had concerned me as I had heard a few stories of this being very uncomfortable but to be honest it was absolutely fine.

Once the block had taken effect the room suddenly filled with people and I was man handled into position on my side.  It was only now that Mr Shaw, my surgeon, arrived on the scene, he quickly said “hello Sir” then promptly ripped of my disposable knickers with his bare hands.  I must admit I thought he was being very forward as this was only our second date after all!

It was now time and I was wheeled into the theatre.

Theatre –

As I was wheeled into a very bright theatre room I had a quick look around and could see a large screen on the wall with what I assumed to be my hip x-ray proudly on display.  Somebody then said “hello Stephen” to me and as I turned to see who it was I was greeted by someone in a full hazmat suit.  It was the sort of thing you see in those zombie films where there has been an outbreak of some deadly disease turning everyone into the living dead.  I can remember thinking that if this goes tits up and I wake up after my operation in some post-apocalyptic hell, running for my life from hazmat suited zombies then I will be writing a stern letter of complaint to the NHS.

Anyway, once this strange scene had flashed through my mind Mr Anaesthetist arrived again and said he was ready to sedate me.  He asked me for my date of birth and the next thing I heard were the words “hi Stephen – that’s it, all done”.

I guess I must have fallen asleep then.

I would love to be able to describe all the gory details of the ninety-minute operation but to be honest, I was completely oblivious to the entire process.

Ward –

After around 30 mins in a recovery room where, to be fair, I felt absolutely fine I was wheeled into my ward at around 4.30pm.  Amazingly, I was given the choice of a room by myself or a room with 3 other men.  All I could think of was trying to get to sleep with 3 other blokes all either moaning on or snoring all night-long, so I opted for my own room where I could moan and snore to my heart’s content.

Once I was parked up in my room it was only then that I realised that I was still completely paralysed from the waist down.  Anybody who has had a spinal block will, I am sure, agree that it is a very strange experience, having absolutely no feeling or control at all in your lower limbs.  When I poked my leg it felt as if I was poking a lump of sponge and I did think about those unfortunate enough to be in this state on a permanent basis and realised again that my arthritis was really not a big thing in the grand scheme of things. There are many people far less fortunate than me as I have had a choice to try to improve my situation, many don’t get that luxury.

It was also at this time that I realised that I had not had a catheter fitted to my fella during the operation which was something else that I had been worried about. Just the thought of it made my eyes water so that was an added bonus.

Jill came to see me at around 6pm and I was feeling remarkably chipper and a photo of my happy smiley face was soon doing the rounds on Facebook.  I had many comments saying how well I looked although there was one comment “looks like somebody’s still on the good stuff”.  Wise words indeed.

Stephen in hospital just out of theatre
With the anaesthetic!

The anaesthetic eventually wore off around midnight and despite about 4 different types of painkillers being taken in various forms, I was no longer quite so chipper.

That night was not much fun with nurses taking various readings off me every hour and my leg feeling as if it had been smashed with a baseball bat.  Then, at around 2am, I needed a pee!

Now, I have never been in the position before where I have had to pee into a bottle while lying down.  How hard can it be?  Very hard as it turns out – for me anyway!  Try as I might and no matter how desperate I was, I could not pee.  After speaking to the nurse, she made it clear that if I couldn’t do it then the only option was to fit a catheter as it was too soon for me to get onto my feet.  Noooo!!!  I told her to leave it with me and I immediately started to Google “I need to pee but can’t go”, or something to that effect.  One suggestion was to see if gravity would help, so I inclined my bed as far as it would go without me sliding off the bottom – no joy.

Running Water –

My next option was Spotify.  Spotify is great for streaming pretty much any music, podcasts etc. that you can imagine so my bright idea was to listen to sounds of running water as Google suggested this is often successful.  Believe it or not but there is an album simply called “Running Water” which basically is a collection of different sounds of, you’ve guessed it, running water.  I tried running taps, dripping taps, waterfalls, babbling brooks, and crashing waves, all to no avail.  “Damn you bladder!!”  I don’t know if this was a post op induced problem or psychological but regardless of its cause, I was going to have to admit defeat.

I’m not going to go into details about my catheter experience but needless to say I now have a decision to make going forward.  As I am going to have to go through this process again with my right hip, there is no way that I want to have to go through that experience again, at least while conscious.  I reckon I have two options, either I ask to have a catheter fitted during the op process (and am therefore blissfully unaware of it happening) or, I practice peeing into a bottle in bed at home.  I’m not sure that Jill will be too impressed with the latter option.

Stephen in hospital after the drugs wore off!
When the drugs had worn off!

The rest of that night was not a comfortable one with very little sleep if any.  There was however plenty of Oramorph (liquid morphine), intravenous paracetamol and numerous other pills whose identity I was not aware of.  If they were going to dull the pain, then I was going to take them.  Before I knew it, morning had arrived and the first day of my recovery was about to start.

Next installment coming soon…..

One thought on “Confessions of a Pilates Instructors Husband – Part 9

  • May 26, 2018 at 8:50 am
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    So pleased to hear how well you are doing Stephen! Another three weeks and you’ll be playing football!

    Reply

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