After the week I've just had, I'm starting to feel like the accidental and unwilling star of my very own budget remake of some macabre version of general hospital or something, except I'm not Hollywood gorgeous, there's no 6 figure income and I don't get to have raunchy, gratuitous sex with the hot young Doctor in the recovery ward, morgue or elevator.
I'm home from hospital and still in one piece but I feel and look as if I've gone ten rounds with a mack truck. I have several new holes, or as I'm calling them; USB ports, on my arms and hands and a lovely new inlet on the side of my neck. I have large, strange shaped bruises surrounded by streaks of blood in odd places, my bottom lip is abraded and swollen, my face is all puffy and I am exhausted at a level that I've never been before, which causes me to stagger slightly. As I was leaving the hospital this afternoon, people were giving me that 'OH MY GOD' look of horror and putting their hands to cover their shocked mouths.
Clearly I look like I've been beaten to within an inch of my life when the irony is that I look like this because I had an unfortunate and immediate anaphylactic reaction to the anaesthetic as I was going in for surgery. My allergic and life threatening reaction to the drugs administered caused my blood pressure to drop to a level that the hospital have termed 'unrecordable' and after several failed attempts at arterial canalisation, they just shoved a big needle into the vein in my neck and had to stitch it in place to keep it there.
The anaesthetist came to see me this afternoon before I was released and told me that the thick lip was from his unfortunately 'rushed' but less than gentle shoving of a tube down my throat to keep my airways open. He was quite apologetic about it as he blatantly snaffled some of my caramelo and explained to me just how close I had come to buying the farm. But hey, at least I'm still alive and we were able to laugh about how bad it would have looked for him professionally if he'd been unable to revive me while he scoffed the chocolate stash provided by my many loving and enabling friends who visited me last night. If he hadn't been quite so likeable and I'd had at least the strength of a newborn kitten at the time, I might have actually thought about smacking that cheeky dimpled grin off his endearingly freckled mug. Lucky for him hey?
The irony of all of this is that this is the second time in a week that I havent had the surgery I was booked in for. I think maybe someone is trying to tell me something.
I'm home from hospital and still in one piece but I feel and look as if I've gone ten rounds with a mack truck. I have several new holes, or as I'm calling them; USB ports, on my arms and hands and a lovely new inlet on the side of my neck. I have large, strange shaped bruises surrounded by streaks of blood in odd places, my bottom lip is abraded and swollen, my face is all puffy and I am exhausted at a level that I've never been before, which causes me to stagger slightly. As I was leaving the hospital this afternoon, people were giving me that 'OH MY GOD' look of horror and putting their hands to cover their shocked mouths.
Clearly I look like I've been beaten to within an inch of my life when the irony is that I look like this because I had an unfortunate and immediate anaphylactic reaction to the anaesthetic as I was going in for surgery. My allergic and life threatening reaction to the drugs administered caused my blood pressure to drop to a level that the hospital have termed 'unrecordable' and after several failed attempts at arterial canalisation, they just shoved a big needle into the vein in my neck and had to stitch it in place to keep it there.
The anaesthetist came to see me this afternoon before I was released and told me that the thick lip was from his unfortunately 'rushed' but less than gentle shoving of a tube down my throat to keep my airways open. He was quite apologetic about it as he blatantly snaffled some of my caramelo and explained to me just how close I had come to buying the farm. But hey, at least I'm still alive and we were able to laugh about how bad it would have looked for him professionally if he'd been unable to revive me while he scoffed the chocolate stash provided by my many loving and enabling friends who visited me last night. If he hadn't been quite so likeable and I'd had at least the strength of a newborn kitten at the time, I might have actually thought about smacking that cheeky dimpled grin off his endearingly freckled mug. Lucky for him hey?
The irony of all of this is that this is the second time in a week that I havent had the surgery I was booked in for. I think maybe someone is trying to tell me something.
So sorry to hear about this huge ordeal! big big hugs to you Sweetie :) lots of love and thinking of you lots. chocolates and lots of rest for you missy !
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