Daylight on e-Bay

My recollection of the side room sojourn is (probably) forever lost in the rarefied synapses of a somewhat comfortably numb brain. All I can remember is that if I opened my eyes they met a ceiling tile on which was painted an iconic ex-lighthouse but, of course even that is a suspect observation.

However, my almost constant companion is, as always, an indispensable fount of all knowledge. It seems that a surgeon offered the wise appraisal that I was ready to be put on E-bay, the operation had been a success, the tumour was deeper than expected, I was more awkward than anticipated and that my recovery would traverse a somewhat rocky road.

Unaware of any of this I was duly wheeled into E1.

Awareness doesn't come with a bang but a whimper. First thoughts relate to the impossibility of normal movement, the reasons for your predicament and what to do about it. Bits of me could move but such bits were of no motor significance. I was aware of being thirsty. "Sips" was written by my name on the wall I was told. Sips it was then. For 2 1/2 weeks!

The reasons for my immobility were now illuminated by daylight. The cannulas in each wrist were fully piped up, a few wires still wandered about but the most obvious reasons were hanging from the security rail along my left side.

From foot to armpit they were a large bag connected to a catheter, a slightly smaller bag connected to an abdominal drain traceable to my right hand side almost a hands length from my navel, whilst from almost the navel itself was another drain which was in the space recently vacated by items once a valued part of my digestive tract. This tube would stay for another 6 weeks and necessitate 2 trips to A&E in an ambulance. Finally, the beast in so many ways, a huge bag catching the outpouring of my nasal gastric (ng)  tube. For a stomach that was but a portion of it's former self and a non working one at that this bag when not full was filling rapidly.

Having digested the reasons for my immobility the issue of what to do about it was easily answered.

Life in E-bay wandered along in a rhythm of semi lucid moments interspersed between lapses into semiconsciousness and sleep. Frequent interruptions came in the shape of persons who wanted to put needles into me, those who wanted to see how my heart/lungs/temperature were responding to recent events and those enquiring after my wefare.

Not having a working stomach all medication bar one was intravenous, the one that wasn't was a vile tasting orangey yellow paste in a syringe that had to be swallowed each evening. It, sadly, wasn't the most vile stuff I had to swallow but that was a fortnight away.

I do remember on Saturday a nurse came along with a spring in her step and cheerfully announced that I wasn't going to like her. With that announcement she turned off the local anaesthetic driver putting pain killer into the tubes in my back from where it was piped round to the front where it was doing it's job. Just how well it was doing it's job became apparent in a fairly short while.

Just as well I had the strength to press the morphine button, even better that someone put it in my hand but as I would see everyone did all they could for me and if there was an extra mile to go on my behalf they went without complaint.