Ok so I'm wanting to put all this surgery business to bed now and focus
on the future. I apologise (again) for the delay in this post I know I promised
it sooner but you wouldn't
believe the luck I've had recently: as I was being
discharged from hospital someone ran into the back of our car and wrote us off
resulting in the last 2 weeks being a complete blur of aches & pains,
sleepless nights, insurance battles and transportlessness ontop of everything
else whilst attempting (feebly) to maintain BAU for the kids - when does it
end?!
So, I did get my surgery (hurray). On the 12th February I had
to be at Doncaster Royal Infirmary theatre admissions for 7.30am
after fasting for 18hours and cleansing in medical wash to ensure I hadn't got
nor would I pass on MRSA (the superbug) in their care. Talk about a sleepless
night, I waved the kiddies off at around 7pm the night before and that was when
the nerves kicked in, up until that point I had been there before and then the
procedure was cancelled (TWICE) so part of me a) expected another cancellation
and b) hoped for a cancellation. Oh yeah, the nerves had totally kicked in! I
hadn't even considered the pain post-op or recovery; I couldn't see past being
put to sleep. I was convinced I wouldn't wake up from my surgery or would bleed
out and something would go wrong whilst I was under
the anaesthetic. Likewise I was convinced something would happen to one of
the kids whilst I was asleep and they'd need to wake me up to go and see to
them (yep, I was on the brink of delusional). I kept reminding my husband
to make sure if anything happened he'd have to ring up and have them
bring me round to help him and then I could go back in another time; 'ok love'
was his then standard response, he'd gotten past 'stop being silly' by this
point. I'd even toyed with the idea of writing my boys a letter telling them
how much I loved them, what things we did together, those words that go
unspoken and how proud I was of them etc 'just incase' I didn't ever recover -
something to remember me by - I was well gone! I was super convinced
I might not get through the surgery, I guess it was a combination of the
illness and what it does to you, the medication and being so out of it combined
with genuine nerves and fear of the unknown.
On a positive; because I couldn't sleep I ran myself one of the nicest
hottest bubbliest baths I've ever had in my life, it smelt divine 'a little bit
of everything' went in - might as well use it up if I wasn’t ever going to get
the chance again eh? So I spent hours in the bath re-heating it whenever the
steam slowed down. It was actually far too hot but it felt amazing! I scrubbed,
exfoliated, polished, waxed, re-exfoliated, re-polished, washed, conditioned,
cleansed, treated, used a few different hair and face masks, I pampered myself
to the point of boredom (and that takes A LOT) next thing I knew it was 5.30am!
Time to get out, dry my hair and pack my toothbrush eeeek!! I smelt amazing, my
skin looked like I was heading to a catwalk never mind DRI but at least the
surgeons would notice my freshly pampered face, manicured nails and pedicure
feet, even though I couldn't apply polish - you could tell they were well cared
for - I'm far from vain too but these little things seemed like the most
important in the world at the time. I blow dried my hair to the point I looked
like I was heading to a wedding, the height and volume I achieved made me proud
(I haven't managed it since lol). I moisturised and moisturised again, packed
up my toothbrush and then my husband handed me a cuppa - THANKS! I poured it
away (I was fasting remember - nill by mouth) OOPS! I did however still have to
take all my medication that morning so sipped an ince of water which had been
ok'd prior by the pre-assessment team.
My Dad took me to the hospital, with Greg (our car was at that point off
the road too – I HATE cars!!). I looked
and felt like I was heading to the airport with my Cath Kidston matching
luggage and my hair and immaculately styled, skin cleansed and body pampered. I
bet people were secretly giggling and chatting about me behind my back but I
was really quite convinced if I'm gonna go, I might as well go looking and
smelling good (I'd even bought lacy new underwear) LOL !!!!
Theatre admissions is a strange dingy little poky hole, it’s basically
like a holding cell where you go and have to sit waiting to be called to be
taken to get changed for theatre. It really did feel like waiting to be hung, I
had pearls of sweat permanently lining my top lip, it was excruciatingly hot in
there – not a great place or a great atmosphere, plus the personal next to me
kept ‘nipping art for a fag’ and sharing her story extremely loudly with
everyone who she rang on her mobile phone - very annoying! However within
10mins of being checked-in by a lovely receptionist and sitting trying to
resist biting my nails I was called into a room by my surgeons registrar, he
wanted to have a feel and a poke around the lumps and goitre and check I was ok
and aware of what the procedure entailed, he advised me of the possible
after-effects that aren’t so nice (adding fuel to the fire raging away inside
my stomach chest), that I could lose my voice and might need to go to intensive
care and due to the nature of the surgery, location and size of the goitre I
could loose my calcium glands too – bit too late to back out now? I was advised
there would be a few extra doctors and junior surgeons in on my operation and
was asked if this was ‘ok with me’ apparently as my condition is quite rare
with the goitre being so enlarged and the hyperthyroidism being so
uncontrollable it was a great example for some of the other doctors to be in
on, there would be My surgeon Mr Watson, his 2nd in command, 2 other
junior surgeons and 2 registrars PLUS my anaesthetist and the theatre nursing
team – bit of a party or what?! If only I felt reassured by security in
numbers... Finally he asked if I had any
questions to which I had only 1, what the chances of me not waking up are?
After nearly pulling his jaw up off the floor and trying his best NOT to laugh
he advised me he hadn’t lost a patient yet, he said the chances of me not
waking up are slim to nonexistent and I should try to relax I was already and
had been for the past 24 hours) shaking like a leaf and trying to suppress my
nervous giggle (very annoying). He offered me and my husband reassurance, said
later today it would all be over and I would be very relieved and much, much
better. PHEW? No, not phew! I didn’t even get chance to go sit back down next
to the annoyingly loud smoker before I was called into another room by a nurse
who wanted to tag me up, take my blood pressure, temperature, weight, height
and ask me tons of questions that had already been asked (I’m sure they do it
to annoy you?). I was trembling by this point, the nurse could see and she
asked if I was frightened, I was on the verge of tears even a few had snook out
onto my cheeks.
As if on cue my anaesthetist a tiny little dark haired lady
with freezing cold hands (that’s all I remember of her) drifted into the room.
I was given some paracetamol, apparently the quicker they get it into your
system the stronger it is to fight your temperature fluctuations during
sedation? She asked if I was nervous, I told her it was the only thing I could
think about, I was so frightened of actually being put to sleep that I didn’t
even care if I woke up anymore, just the thought of being on the bed with the
feeling of anaesthetic taking over and the losing control was sending me over
the edge. I really needed something to calm me down, my blood pressure was a
little increased and I was working so hard on taking deep breaths that I was
feeling a little light headed already (totally wussing out!). It was in fact
too late to give me a pre-med, it was 8.10/8.15 and she wanted me in theatre
for 8.30am but she assured me the first thing she would do when I got in there
was to give me something to relax me, she said to stop worrying now it was a
wasted worry, I would be absolutely fine and to enjoy the ride, she said I will
give you something really nice, make you feel really nice and floaty, you won’t
care about loosing control then so what the hell – might as well float away
with the fairies and enjoy it, I was way past the point of having a choice,
this was happening – in 15 minutes!!!!!
I was gowned up, I remember having a peek in the mirror before I left my
cubicle, I wasn’t sure when I was next going to be able to look in a mirror and
not be frightened / freak myself out with the wound and drains etc, all I
remember thinking was how nice my hair looked and what a good job I’d done
(sometimes it’s fun to be a dizzy blonde – the little things keep us occupied).
I donned my new Cath Kidston slippers and the most fluffiest flowery Per
Una dressing gown (treats from my family awww) and along with my NHS issue
anti-DVT stockings I handed my belongings to my husband who instead of looking
anything like concerned, to me looked bored (and tired), I got cross. My
surgeon was stood waiting for me before I got chance to tell Greg off for not
being attentive enough and 2 theatre nurses literally appeared from nowhere as
if to carry me off to a padded cell (Nurse B looked just like the kind of nurse
who had done that before too, Nurse A donned a reassuring smile that all was
going to be ok – I didn’t know at that point which was worse?). Mr Watson
introduced himself, said he’d see me in 5 minutes he just wanted to offer a
little reassurance and let me know I was in very safe hands before leaving me
in the capable care of 2 theatre nurses. This was it; there was no where I
could escape to even if I wanted to in my slippers and dressing gown. I was
also frustrated because I’d bought a nice new lacy, clean, comfy but pretty bra
and I wasn’t allowed to wear a bra for theatre – tut! Still, at least I had my
pants on and not those crummy NHS paper numbers they used to give you (I had
those when I was taken to theatre to have my children – yuk). Don’t get me wrong
I know this was no time for fashion and nice things but still, my Mum always
taught me to make an effort at ALL times and if this was the last thing I was
ever going to wear I wanted it to be nice.
BUMMER, there wasn’t even time to be cross with Greg or tell him off for
being slack and inattentive and looking like he was going to fall asleep when
all I could think about was a) if I could/still had time to escape or b)if this
was the last time I was ever going to see him. I managed to wave to him and give him a quick goodbye
kiss and then the nurses scooped me up as if we had a train to catch and we
were marching down to theatre chatting generally about how dingy it was but
that it was ok because it was being renovated and how nice my hair looked. I
told them I thought people would think I was daft but if I really do wake up
after this I don’t think I’m going to be able to wash it for a few days so at
least I know it’s clean and in a decent state (I do ramble a lot when I’m
nervous, complete verbal dihorrea syndrome) I could tell they were humouring me
but it was nice to generalise and not have to repeat my name, address and date
of birth for the millionth time that morning.
The theatres reminded me of a reeeallllly old butchers shop, the floors
with those old green square tiles and the plastic sheeting doors and dim yellow
lighting – definitely somewhere you wouldn’t want to have to be in a power cut
or worse – zombie apocalypse. It looked like something off Hostel (have you
seen that film? Ewww!) There were what seemed like hundreds of theatre rooms
all off this long corridor, how do you find the right one? I was so glad people
were around, it was pretty spooky! Definitely more than a little eerie!
I had to repeat my name and date of birth AND address to be allowed in,
I considered getting it wrong and making a run for it but I could tell Nurse A
wouldn’t have taken any nonsense, Nurse B however I could have easily escaped
from (all these things and more crossed my mind on the 3 minute walk to
theatre), I was in complete survival mode, my little boys would have been proud
of me J ... I succumbed to
the inevitable and kicked off my slippers and dressing gown as I was told,
Nurse B scooped them into a big green bag and assured me she would keep them
safe (yeah right!) Nurse A was hooking me up to heart monitors and prodding n
poking me here there n everywhere, her hands were freezing cold too. The flitty
little smiley face reappeared then – the lady with the fairy drugs – Fab! It
took her less than 2 minutes she’d got me laid down (I don’t think she even
asked me to she just moved her hand and I did as she wanted – NLP at its best),
the cannular was in my hand. She asked me if I had any pets and I told her I
had a little dog called Lincoln, as I was telling her and starting on another
nervous bout of verbal dihorrea she said I’d start to feel a little light
headed and POOF I was gone. I didn’t even get to feel light headed I was
straight out, she either gave me too much, I went quicker and easier than she
expected or she just said it so I wouldn’t worry or fight it and it did what
she wanted it to do. Either way she was right, she did exactly what she
promised me, all that worrying and panicking and it was all for nothing, aren’t
I a bit daft? Would I be the same if I ever had to go to theatre again? Of
course, it’s a natural reaction, it’s very scary and worrying and all those
horrible things but really, it’s quite cool, whatever drugs she used were
amazing – out like a light!
The next thing I know I was waking up - HURRAY I woke UP!
It took me a few minutes for my life to come flooding back, I had been
asleep for a very long time and everything needed to restart, the room seemed
HUGE, it was dark and it was sooooo hot and I couldn’t work out where I was but
I was awake – PHEW! I’m awake!! THEN the pain hit WOW the pain hit and it grew
and grew and grew! I didn’t expect THAT!!! PAIN!!!! OWWWWCH!!!!
Apparently it was 5pm, I had been in theatre ALL day, 7 hours and I’d
been an hour in recovery before I came round I wasn’t in the best of states. I
was incredibly hot, my temperature wouldn’t drop below 42degrees, the nurses
who were looking after me were doing runs with cold flannels to try and cool my
burning skin NOW I know why they get the paracetamols inside you as quick as
they can, the temperature is a huge issue!
I couldn’t speak or move, I had lots of machines hanging around and I
was in and out of sleep but I knew something was squashing my legs and
something was holding my head down and my eyes wouldn’t stay open but I was
mainly conscious it was such a strange feeling. Most of all the pain was
overpowering, goodness me the pain was sooooooooo bad. I hadn’t even imagined
waking up never mind what it would feel like but I know I could never have
imagined it to hurt like this OWWWCH!! Surgery seriously underestimated –
error!
I was being loaded with drugs and pain relief and nurses were coming and
going, the pain didn’t seem to let up and you have to remember I’d built up quite
a strong pain threshold the few months prior due to the cluster headaches but
this was on another level, whilst I’d been exposed to high intensity pain, I’d
also built up an immunity to high level pain relief so other than knock me back
out under sedation, there was only so much they could do to keep me
comfortable, the rest I had to grit my teeth and bear it and grit my teeth I
did – Not nice whatsoever! I had taken on maximum morphene, a level that right
now would probably knock me out for a week but at that point never took the
edge off the pain and the heat, the heat was overpowering it felt like I was on
fire, the nurses hands and the flannels were like little particles of icy
heaven aaaahhhhhh! I cant decide if I did get more comfortable or just got more
and more frustrated because 2 hours later I was still waiting for Greg to
appear, but they wouldn’t let him in, I had to be comfortable and stable before
he was allowed to see me, poor thing had been sat waiting for me for over
9hours. I said I was more comfortable, I must have been too, or readjusted to
manage the pain better because I really wanted to see him although I couldn’t
speak I just had to nod and smile and point, I was worried my voice wouldn’t
work but that really was the last of my worries. I had also learnt that if I
took a breath in and out through my nose I got a huge hit of remaining
anaesthetic and it knocked me out for a few minutes so when the pain got really
bad I’d sniff some pain relief (weird but it works – you must try that) I’d
definitely taken on a lot of anaesthetic, the length of the surgery had aided
that too, it took 3 days for the anaesthetic to leave my system fully, it did
feel nice though that first day to keep breathing it in, I think it helped,
even if it was a placebo I’ll take it..
To say I was emotional as a result of the anaesthetic was an
understatement I think I told anyone who would listen how much I loved them
over the following days, I’m not sure why and always I had a tear in my eye.
Later the first evening I was moved onto a surgical ward, out of theatre
recovery and onto a standard nurse managed ward, I couldn’t tell you much about
it I was laid flat and not to be moved (I don’t think I could have if I’d have
wanted to – which I had no intention of whatsoever).
My legs were wired up to this really cool machine that had some
electronic stockings attached to them that kept pumping my legs squeezing them,
they kept my circulation flowing though the day as I’d been asleep for the
majority of it and through the following day and night too because I was to
remain in bed.
I had done extremely well considering, I hadn’t require any of the blood
for transfusion that was ordered for me (well done me), I had managed to keep 2
out of 4 Calcium glands and I only had 1 drain fitted to manage blood loss so
all in all the surgery was a huge success Hurray!
The first night was the worst, I couldn’t move and I couldn’t really
speak but that didn’t mean the pain was any less, I laid staring at the ceiling
trying to count myself a minute, 2 minutes and so on attempting to gauge 2
hours so I know I could have a new lot of pain relief squirted into my mouth
(swallowing still wasn’t easy but I had to keep trying). Trying to count such
high levels on that much pain relief is impossible, what seemed like hours was
infact minutes and the nurses kept popping in to check on me bless them, they
were incredible, the care and assistance made me even more emotional!
I didn’t eat anything for 3 days and didn’t drink anything other than
sips of morphene and water to take medication with for 2 days but on day 2 I
got up and got dressed with the help of a really lovely nurse who helped me get
a quick wash from the surgery blood and smells and put clean underwear on, it
really did help me to feel a little better but I still couldn’t face brushing
my teeth, my temperature was extremely high and the pain levels were still non-manageable
– not good! I had seriously underestimated this surgery and just how difficult
the recovery is especially the immediate recover – owch! I’d also given my
drain pipe a huge tug and that was a shock too OWCH!
My surgeon popped to see me and was smiling to himself when I told him
how I felt, he advised me it was uncanny exactly how many people underestimate
this procedure and expect it to be a simple tonsillectomy type pain (I’d have
taken a c-section pain over this any day). I was also advised that the size of
my goitre was incredible, the surgeon used the word ‘humongous’. A standard ‘normal&healthy’
thyroid should be the size of a walnut; mine was the size of 2 human fists –
not much difference then. Although I still didn’t feel ready to look in the
mirror (fear of the unknown? I didn’t want it to hurt more if it looked worse
than I imagined so my own naive bubble seemed like a better place to stay) my
family who came to visit me were amazed at the size difference in my neck and
the look of the scar too. My neck had disappeared; it didn’t look like it could
hold my head up anymore.
They don’t dress the wound, it’s sprayed with a clear antiseptic
dressing and left so they can see it at all times for leaking, healing and all
other purposes – very strange but very, very clever the scar looks fab!
Night 2 was a difficult night because I’d forced myself out of bed all
day trying to remove the anaesthetic from my system as the last thing I wanted onto
of everything else was a chest infection from left over meds causing additional
pain and illness – imagine needing to cough? OWWCH!! But that mean when I got
back into bed I couldn’t get comfy, I couldn’t relax my shoulders because it
felt like my head was going to fall off so I was sat / laid constantly with a
turtle neck and my shoulders wedged up high and I couldn’t rest my head back
because the pain in any slight stretching was excruciating PLUS the drain site was
uncomfortable and I’d tugged it a few times trying to get comfortable so it was
an extremely restless and painful night – lots of morphene required!
I’d had a tingly nose, hands and feet since my surgery but hadn’t really
had chance to notice it properly, plus I was quite ‘wired’ with all the
medication and still attempting to control my pain so I could at least think
about something else for a while other than how much it STILL hurt, but on the
morning of day 3 this incredible feeling overtook my body I felt like I was
leaving my body behind the tingling and pins and needles were so intense I am
struggling to put it onto words to explain. I couldn’t look at my hands because
my brain wouldn't accept that they were mine. Within seconds doctors and nurses
surrounded me and a drip was inserted, literally less that 5 minutes and I wasn’t
left alone for 1 second of it. Once I started to feel less tingly it was
explained to me that I had gone onto calcium shock, my calcium glands still
hadn’t recovered from the surgery and I wasn't able to control my own calcium
so my body had taken a bit of hit. I was
linked to a 24hr calcium infusion and to be tested daily looking for an increase
back to a standard ‘safe’ level. Oh yes, I’m not the kind of person to do
things by halves am I?!
I was a sight and half, drain in 1 hand, calcium drip in the other
pushing along my bag of fluid linked to my arms attempting to get to the
toilet, I really hit rock bottom that day. That day was also valentines day (14th
February). Loads of people visited my including my little boys and as much as I
really, really wanted to see them and chat to them a) I couldn’t really speak, b) I couldn’t hold my head up c) the pain was
increasing and d) I was too sad and tired and just generally not with it to
even realise they were there. My baby boy wanted to go and find the person who’d
‘cracked my mummy’s neck’ and beat them up iron man style bless him and that
made me smile and my husband had some flowers shipped to me which also made me
smile but other than that I returned to my drug induced state staring out of
the window – it snowed all day long! I also pleaded with the doctors to remove
my drain but it was still collecting too much excess fluid but they did promise
me they would check again the following day – hope – yay!
The next week merged into one long blurr, a sad, quiet, loooooong blurr.
I did have my drain removed on Day 4 by a really incredible nurse who’d turned
out to be one of my husband’s friends wives (it’s a small world we live in) and
I know I was feeling a little better because all I could think about while she
was removing it was how I was certain my breath would smell because I’d still
not managed to brush my teeth (I made a mental note to brush my teeth by hook
or by crook regardless of pain it was 4 days now!!). Once the drain was removed
I instantly felt a little better, I think the fear of pulling on it and it
hurting like it did on Day1 when I’d given it a very hard tug had haunted me
and having that removed, for that split second I felt like doing a little jig,
even my toes wiggled in delight!
I still couldn’t speak, my scar was starting to dry up and I’d even
taken a look in the mirror – it looked incredible, compared to how I felt I
looked like a different person, even my hair had stood the test of time! Temple
Spa facial, Soap and Glory body wash, Dry Shampoo and tons of YSL Paris Perfume
not to mention 3Xdifferent toothpastes and mouth wash, clean NHS standard issue
stockings, freshly laundered pj’s (my husband was brilliant at keeping me in stock
of clean pj’s when he visited) and I was back on the ward feeling a whole heap
better, I even turned on my phone and checked into my facebook and twitter
account and the messages I’d received from all my friends and family were so
heart warming – THANK YOU all XXXX
I remained confined to the ward, my calcium levels were dangerously low
and my heart was at risk if I didn’t improve so daily I was encouraged to
nibble on egg omelettes, milk, hot chocolates, cheese, rice pudding and
millions of calcium supplements – nothing worked. I was another 9 days before my
calcium level reached a point where I was deemed ‘safe’ to leave the hospital.
By that point I was pretty much comfortable, I was still in pain but after day
5-6 the pain was much more manageable on anti-inflammatory pills and an incredibly
effective drug called ‘tramadol’ that really does make you itch but it really
works alongside paracetamol at keeping that burning, tearing flame at bay –
PHEW!
My niece made me the best card EVER!!!!
I was discharged from the hospital on day 11, I was to have my stitches
removed the following morning and it probably would have been easier if I could
have stayed but I leaped at the chance to leave and have my aunt remove them at
home as she’s a district nurse – winner! MY stitches were 2 little beads and 1
ling line of surgical wire, she literally snipped 1 end of the wire and fed the
remaining end all the way through. I didn’t feel a thing
The scar instantly relaxed a moved into a long straight line instead of
a bunched up crusty wrinkly crinkly. It’s healed incredibly as you can see from
the photo’s. (at week 2 it looked like my section scar looked at month 6 – very
clever!)
I remained on a very high dose of calcium supplements (which I am still
on 2 months later) as my calcium glands really have taken a turn for the worst
and it’s incredible just how dangerous it can be for your calcium levels to be
low, the pressure and risk to your heart is extremely dangerous I have never
seen dr’s worry or move as quickly with the nursing team as they did, I am
grateful I was cared for so well and by such a fantastic team. My surgeon
visited my daily and when he couldn’t he made phone calls to check my daily
blood tests, he kept a constant eye on my and we built up a really lovely
relationship, he reminded me each time he saw me that once I was discharged I
was to go home, put my pj’s back on a SIT and that’s exactly what I did, I was
just sooooooooo grateful to be home and with my family and my little dog that I
didn’t dare bend the rule I was the perfect little patient (although my husband
would probably disagree). I had a few minor moments of OCD kicking in but
mainly I slept and rested and couldn’t speak much so I just sat, happy and
headache free embracing the life that I have become extremely appreciative to
have.
I have learnt a lot about myself on this journey and I appreciate the smaller
things in life a LOT more. I have learnt to take life at a slower and less
urgent pace, ok so there are times were I still need to crack the whip but if
my boys leave their shoes out once in a while it won’t really hurt anyone will
it?. I still can’t shout (2 months on) so my boys are very grateful of that (I’m
NOT), if I try and shout a really silly noise comes out and they end up
laughing at me so I guess it kind of defeats the object.
Week 2 SCAR!
I have been readmitted to hospital for a week 3 weeks ago because my
calcium glands STILL refuse to work and I’m STILL waiting for them to kick
their little butts back into ‘safe mode’ but a week on drips and strong meds
seems to put me back into the land of the living again, hopefully this cycle
will tire itself out and they will pick back up - soon. It’s not the amount of
calcium you consume that can control the illness it’s the amount of calcium
your calcium glands will allow your body to accept and process and mine just
won’t hence I am a slave to 6 supplements, 4 pills and a very high calcium diet
for the indefinite future but, it keeps the tingling at bay, it means I can be
home and around my little boys and let’s face it, after what I’ve just been
through it’s like a walk in the park!
The reduction in my meds is incredible, I’ve gone from taking over 30
pills a day to 1 thyroxin tablet and then of course the calcium ones I’m
whining about. Once my calcium glands start working I will be on just 1 pill
for the rest of my life, compared to an overactive thyroid and those cluster headaches
– I’ll take that! I have to be monitored closely for a few months but once the
levels of thyroxin in my system are managed correctly I will go onto an
electronic NHS database just like the millions of other people without a
thyroid or those with an underactive thyroid and will be managed with a wimple 6
monthly blood test to ensure my ‘levothyroxine’ is producing enough of the
synthetic hormone that I require and I guess I can gauge that myself in how I
feel and in my weight management. I have gained a little weight over the last
month but I haven’t done much at all, I am on a high calcium (calorie) diet and
I am still adjusting and readjusting my whole body after the surgery.
I have been told a few times to stop trying to run before I can walk and
to take things slower and the more I’ve allowed myself to do that the more
energy I have found I have. I’m back out with the dog 2 hours a day, hopefully
increase to 3 as time allows, I walk everywhere again instead of never leaving
the house, my home is clean, kept and nothing seems to be too much of a chore.
I am getting the spring back into my step and it feels good. I still need to
find me, this may sound really silly but I look in the mirror and I don’t look
like me, it’s not so much the scar but the eyes, the face shape, the movement
and maybe addition of a little excess timber? I’m not sure but I don’t feel
like me, I’ve changed my hair a few times, I’ve played with different make-ups
but still I don’t feel like Rachel anymore. I feel less caring and emotional
and more blasé to others who never really bothered with me (which isn’t like me
because I’ve always cared for everyone even if I knew they didn’t give me a
second thought – weird – good move? Dunnno?). I just feel like I’m not quite
myself and I’m not sure why or what to do about it. Maybe this is me and I just
haven’t been myself for so long that I’ve forgotten who I actually am? Either
way I am still searching, soul searching - I’ll keep you posted on that one!!
Few minor unexpected shocks: I had my first period for over a year
OWWWWWWCH!! These new synthetic hormone induced periods are going to take some
getting used to OH MY GOODNESS I half hoped I was in labour (it was as painful)
just so I had a happy ending to come. Hopefully as the months go by I’ll adjust
and the pains will become more manageable, from what I read and ask around –
this seems to happen. Noone tells you that though grrr @ the Dr’s!
My body still can’t control its own temperature properly, I’ve gone from
spending a year too hot, really too hot to the point I couldn’t even have a
quilt over me in the winter to being soooo teeth chatteringly cold in April and
the heating hasn’t been off EON will LOOOOOVE me!! Hopefully this will start to
settle as my calcium does too..
My Graves Disease will never leave me. (finding this out HURT). I will
always have GD, removing the thyroid aids the disease but there is no cure. I
have to help myself on this one, simple lifestyle changes. No Smoking, Limited
drinking (not a problem). Cut out salt (tick) White Bread (tick) and Heavy
Cardio exercise (tick). I have to keep my eyes protected as much as possible,
glasses most of the time from the sun, wind, grit, rain. Anything and everything
will upset my eyes and trigger an attack causing them to puff back out (they
have retracted a lot – almost normal). I have a lifetime supply on demand of
drops, steroids and medicated lenses and wrap around glasses – lovely but if that’s
what it takes so I can see properly and not have to live with permanently achy,
gritty and watery eyes then I’ll take it – wouldn’t you?. My standard converse
shades are working for now though J So if you see me walking down the street in the wind and rain or on a
cloudy morning with my shades on I’m not vain like most people have wondered,
or I’m not doing it as a fashion statement. It means I can see and will
continue to see and preserve the life of my eyes and that my friend is more
important than how I look, or how I worry you think I look. However, it does
mean I have free reign on building up a very cool, very varied collection of
sunglasses, I have over 10 pairs already – check me!!!
On a Positive I haven’t had 1 single headache since my surgery now that’s
impressive! Every time I think about it, it makes me smile – HORRAY!! Those
headaches were soooooo bad I am soooo grateful I am now on the other side and heading
towards the rest of my life with positivity and gratitude.
I took (my husband did) LOTS of photo’s through my surgery and recovery
and I have included them in this blog for you to see and it should help you
prepare for your surgery / what to expect of a family members journey. I really hope you find them useful and please,
if you have any further questions or worries you can email me: heartrachelmail@gmail.com or leave
me a comment here and I will respond to you I promise. I am sure I have missed
tons of important / useful bits to blog for you but there has been that much as
it’s all happened so quickly on the post-op side that I haven’t had time to sit
and evaluate yet but I do know in the future I will look back and be grateful
for whatever lessons I still have to learn from this – I’ve learnt lots
already!!
I wish you luck and am sending you hugs through your journey, I
sincerely hope it’s as speedy as mine was (12 months from diagnosis to removal
and recovery), I know some people have this battle for most of their lives, I
guess it’s the bitter sweet with just how quickly you deteriorate.
So I will leave you here and put this
to bed, I have a really happy, colourful, chirpy, funky and fun blog planned
for next week just to re-bounce us back on track and with a smile on our faces
and a spring in our steps, lets put the negatives and sadness to bed and move
on to the future with our heads held high...
Good Luck guys! Please keep in touch
with my blog for future updates and general lifey, wifey, girly, mumsy pretty
things... X
Love Rachel
xx
MONTH 2!
