Back Blogging - I'm OK

While I was in the Trillium Hospital I made notes of the events and I would like to share them with you as you might have a similar journey and it might help to make it easier.

High Hopes
Coming to Trillium on Thursday with Theresa at 9:30 am I had high hopes for my future. 10 years of pain from arthritis made me less than I wished to be. I saw the operation as a way of getting back to being healthy again.

Theresa and I entered the hospital like kids ready to receive the ultimate gift - better health.We did all the right things by going through the hoops four times over: name, address, age and once I was asked if I knew where I was and why I was there. Theresa stayed right with me until I was sent to the OR. I was very emotional when I left her but managed to compose myself while I was needled and lines put in place. The room was cold and a mixture of urgent busy people and the cool words from the anesthetist telling me I was going to sleep but I did not. Up until then I was OK and still hopeful.

No, I Am Not OK
The Dr. repeated his statement, Henry you are going to sleep. At that moment a searing hot needle sharp pain penetrated every segment of my body, from all angles. Never did I ever experience anything like it. I tried to yell but it was too late, I fell to the drugs.The next thing I knew I was fighting for my life. I opened my eyes and saw Theresa and the girls, and a Dr. and nurse.

A large tube was down my throat and I was struggling with the breathing tube. I remembered Roma telling me how to survive the tube. You have to get in sync with the machine. I closed my eyes and and tried. I did well but something worse was about to happen. I began to convulse and vomit. Theresa and the kids noticed I was struggling and even though I was tied down I managed to indicate I needed pen and paper.

The Dr. said I was OK. I wrote... dammit. I am not OK. Take out the tube. She waited and after seeing the rising liquid she pulled the tube. I breathed once and threw up copious amounts of liquid bile. I was OK.

I breathed freely and began an hourly routine of getting rid of quarts of liquid. I am sure I would have drowned in this liquid had she not listened to me. Because Theresa and my kids had to see this I tried to humour them by writing on my worksheet: How does my hair look?

I was placed in ICU and my family came in and looked after me with the help of a wonderful nurse Becky.

To be continued...