My first day at home jason got me up at 5.30 and got me downstairs and onto the sofa. Since he had to work all day and there was no way I could manage the stairs by myself due to pain, we had come up with the plan of keeping me downstairs so I had access to the TV, and setting me up on the sofa with everything i need in terms of food and drink for the day, with handy living room based jug-and-bucket for when I needed to pee. (The other not being an issue due to the large quantities of opiates currently holding up my bowel). I spent most of the day asleep, woken only by pain and the need for more Oramorph. I had no desire to eat or watch TV. I know I was phoned a few times by friends and relatives to check I was ok and wish me well, which was lovely. The details are hazy. I do remember a call from my parents (currently out of the country), and my dad spent some time reassuring me that everything i was experiencing was to be expected. I also called the South West deanery to try to postpone my CMT interview that was due to be in 1 weeks time. They were less than helpful. You'd think that breaking your leg would be a good enough reason to postpone an interview....not according to South West Deanery. At this point in time i was too tired to argue with them. At the end of the day jason came home and tried to make me eat, but I wasn't interested. Not at all normal for me. He got me back upstairs and helped me wash. I did feel a lot brighter after this, and it made me to realise how important it would be to look after myself through all this. We decided that i would be better off in bed the next day with the jug-and-bucket in my room in case I struggled to get to the bathroom (the Oramorph was making me very dizzy and my walking balance was terrible).
I was still needing a lot of analgesia at this point, and before I went to bed I had taken 100mg tramadol and 20mg Oramorph. 2 hours after falling asleep, I woke up screaming. Jason came rushing into the room. I'm still not entirely sure what happened, but I think I must have just jerked my leg in my sleep. The subsequent pain was unbelievable, and i had nightmarish visions of having pulled the fixation apart. Jase gave me another 20mg of Oramorph and I sobbed in pain until the drugs kicked in and I half-slept, half-passed out.
Wednesday I woke late, Jason had already gone to work. I decided to try and get myself to the bathroom, and while I was there I managed to wash my upper body myself. The rest of the day was spent in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, and trying to respond to all of the lovely messages that had been sent to me. I also gently started to try some static muscle exercises, but pain pretty soon put a stop to that. When jason got home he helped me downstairs onto the sofa before he went out to running club. While he was out, the pain in my leg started to get worse and worse and I began to feel sick and shivery. I loaded up on Oramorph and then the next thing I knew jason was home. Well, at least I knew I wasn't becoming tolerant to the opiates! I was too spaced out and wobbly to manage a wash so he put me straight to bed. 2 hours later I woke up practically swimming in my own sweat. This had been happening every night since the surgery, but now in combination with the symptoms I'd had that evening, I became terrified that an infection was setting in. Dad called me the next morning and reassured me that the fevers were normal post fracture for several days. I knew this, and I also knew that infection was not a likely complication at this early stage, but it was so nice to hear it from someone else, least of all someone with as much experience as my dad. It's funny how you ignore your own knowledge in the process of catastrophising. I know how it can be difficult to come from a medical family, but by the Gods it is also a real blessing and I know how lucky I am to have dad there with his years of experience, ready to talk me through every tiny irrational fear that pops into my head. He makes me want to be a better doctor.
Thursday morning I felt a bit brighter. I also felt pretty disgusting and my bedclothes were all damp from me sweating so much. I couldn't bear the thought of lying feeling so skanky all day. I was feeling pretty determined, and the pain was well controlled. So, I got to the bathroom, washed myself, washed my hair, put on clean pjs, stripped the bed and put fresh bedding on. It took me frikkin' AGES and by the end I was exhausted, but mission accomplished!. I crawled back into my squeaky clean bed and slept for the rest of the day. Jase came home late because of a parents evening, got me downstairs, I managed a whole plate of pasta and then went back to bed. That night I slept right through until 9am.
Victories:
Having a full wash with jason helping, and a couple of days later progressing to a full wash by myself.
Managing to change the bed sheets by myself.
Managing a bowl of Musli and snacks of fresh and dried fruit every day.
Being proactive in trying to change the date of my CMT interview
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| Grabby-device. Also useful for sexually harassing strangers from a slight distance. |
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| My new getaway method. |
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