My GRS Experience - Day 3

Day 3: Wednesday 27th March 2013

     I have a restless night. The alarms from either side, coupled with the soreness I feel, make it an uncomfortable night. The hospital beds are designed so you don't fall out so the thick leather mattresses hold you in place. I sweat a lot as a consequence of my body remaining trapped in one place. By the time daylight spreads across the ward I'm in pain and extremely tired. They check my blood pressure every four hours with the first check being at 6:00am. At 8:00am the night staff finish so the senior nurses check on each patient passing on relevant info to the day staff. I'm in pain so I ask for pain killers and I get two paracetamol. The pain starts to go about thirty minutes later.

     After breakfast the drugs trolley comes round. Because I had some pain killers earlier I'm not allowed them this time and so I have to wait until 1:00pm before I get them! The following four hours are not pleasant. The pain killers start to wear off and I begin to experience soreness. I attempt to put it to the back of my mind but that seems to make the pain worse. I start to feel emotional and lonely. The other trans patients are very ill and so are spending a lot of time asleep. I don't have anyone to talk to, especially about the surgery. I thought things would be different and so I start to feel depressed. Im in pain and I'm so lonely. I start to think of home and I can not wait to leave this place.

     The painkillers come at 1:00pm on the dot and I instantly start to feel better. I think it's just a placebo effect at first. I head to the washroom and wash. I spray some dry shampoo in my hair and I it makes a big difference to my mood. I can't shower until my packing comes out on Saturday so the dry shampoo proves to be an important addition to my toiletry bag. I've decided to wear my own clothes in hospital so I do away with the NHS nickers and gown and wear my own underwear and nightie. It makes me feel at least part human again.

     I spend the afternoon watching Homeland on my IPad before moving onto Miranda. The transformation to how I felt first thing this morning is dramatic and it's a theme which stays throughout my stay at Charing Cross.

     Towards the end of the evening the lady in the bed opposite right to mine, the one who had the stroke, gets moved up to a non surgical ward. This leaves a bed empty in F-Bay. I wish her luck as she gets wheeled past me. Although we only exchanged pleasantries she seemed a really nice lady. I'm not sure she realised which ward she was on though.

     As the evening draws to a close and the lights go out I reflect on what has been a boring day on F-Bay. I want to go home, want to leave this place. It's not how I thought it would be. I guess I had visions of a ward of post-op girls comparing suture lines and pain thresholds. I thought I'd have people to talk to, people who were going through the same as me. I thought we'd all be comparing notes, going to costa together, experiencing this unique situation together. As it is I'm on my own and as I struggle to sleep, alarms going either side of me, I begin to sob quietly.