Soon they came to wheel me down to the operating theatre, and then, before I knew it, I was being wheeled back up again and put into a bed in the ward where I was to spend the next few days

I have to say what with the pre-op anaesthetic, the epidural, the post-op painkillers, the morphine and the oxygen, when I did ‘come round’ not only was I in no pain, I think I felt better than I had for a few months.

But gradually everything began to wear off, and I became aware that a radical hysterectomy is a pretty major operation.  Then they took away the oxygen as well, but the nurses were very good and one didn’t have to stay in pain – only ask for help.

Next day, was spent mostly in bed, my lovely surgeon came to check on me and tell me a little about the operation.  It was as I had thought, and things had worsened, but the operation had been a success in that they had removed my womb which was the seat of the cancer, and although there were some adhesions to the colon they had managed to peel things apart.

After the doctor’s rounds a lovely nurse came along to ask if I would like to be accompanied to one of the shower rooms to freshen up and change my gown, and of course I was longing to do just that.  So together we wheeled the stand festooned with bags and i.v. drips, and negotiated our way to the shower.  My experience of these stands is that they behave rather like errant supermarket trollies and have a mind of their own as to which direction they will take – but with two of us to control it we soon had the upper hand, and feeling cleaner and happier I was escorted back to bed.

In the shower I was surprised to find my rather large scar, though neatly stitched up, had been left without any dressing.  It was felt that it would heal more quickly that way and I was advised to keep everything clean, so it was good to be able to shower each day, and as usual I took lots of homoeopathy to help with the healing process.

Over the next days the drips and bags were removed one by one, and finally the two canulas on the back of my hand – which seemed to want to snag on everything. I could shower and dress myself and asked to see a physiotherapist as I was keen to make progress, and she duly called – though simply gave me a walking stick, and walked with me along the hallway – which I had already accomplished alone.  Though she did check I could cope with the stairs.

Sally and Mark called in to see me on their way to collect a lorry, and brother Mike drove down on Thursday evening with extra bits and bobs – as one is only allowed to take a single small case when admitted, and I desperately needed my laptop.

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