I wake up at around 4:30 am and I struggle to get back to sleep. I feel sore and I'm coated in sweat. I really hate this bed for the way it cocoons me. I can't sleep on my side because the catheter pipe digs in so I'm stuck to sleeping on my back. I just lay there for the following hour. I could watch something on my iPad but I feel too sore to do anything other than lay there. At 5:30am I feel a spreading wet patch near my right leg and I discover that my catheter tube has disconnected from the night bag. I ring the bell but a nurse doesn't come for half an hour. When she does come she seems put out and says that she'll change the bed in a minute. In the mean time I reconnect the catheter tube to my leg bag. It takes forty five minutes before the nurse returns with clean sheets. In my time at Charing Cross this is the one low point I have with the staff. On the whole they are great and they do work long hours. No patient should be left in a puddle of urine though, especially one who had major reconstructive surgery three days ago! While the nurse changes the bed I go to wash.
This morning, having learnt my lesson, I wait until the drugs round at 9:00am before I have my painkillers. That makes the previous couple of hours tough. It's not a pain as such, just a constant throb and that's worse somehow. Once I've had the painkillers though I'm fine.
At 11:00am Manjit pops in and has a look at the surgical site. She seems satisfied that everything's as it should be. I'm yet to look at myself. I did bring a mirror in with me because I figure I'll need it when I start dilating but I've been kinda scared to look at it at. I know that it'll look a mess. From what I can see it looks swollen and bruised. Manjit seems happy enough though so I take the opportunity to have a first look myself. Two suture lines run down in a V shape with a smaller one running down the middle. Where the two lines join a mound of yellow cloth protrudes from my new vagina. Above this packing the catheter pipe comes out of my urethra. It's surrounded by more packing. It does look a mess although you can see the basic shape and imagine what it might look like in a couple of months time.
Once Manjits examined the surgical site she goes over things with me. When I had my Pre-admissions appointment with Iffy back in February she told me that I'd be discharged on the Monday. With it being a bank holiday though it turns out that my discharge dat would be Tuesday instead. Having already booked train tickets etc, I asked Manjit if I could still go home on Monday. It turns out I can and she explains what will happen over the weekend. On Friday I'll have the packing removed and I'll begin dilating. I'll be required to dilate three times daily for the foreseeable future. On Sunday at midnight I'll have the catheter removed then I'll need to have a wee before I can be discharged on Monday. It may seem a routine thing, having a wee, but there's a risk of retention. I'm not exactly sure what this is but I assume it's where the urethra closes up. If this happens then I'll need the catheter back in and I won't be able to go home. At the moment going home on Monday is keeping me going.
About ten minutes after Manjit has gone she pops back in with Mr Bellringer in tow. I hear them talking to Deborah in the next bed before they get to me. She's not been allowed to eat since Monday and so asks whether she can eat soon. Apparently she'll only be allowed food once she can open her bowels. After Deborah they pass by my bed. Everything's fine so they stop only briefly. Manjit mentions that I'm bored to which Mr Bellringer replies, with a smile, that it's good to be bored in here.
Once they're gone I get a text from my mum. It's a simple text message, 'Hope you slept ok last night, and are feeling a bit brighter this morning, sending love and hugs xxxxx', but it makes me cry. I realise how much I miss home and my family. I've spent a lot of my career working away from my family. I've spent months working abroad without seeing my family yet four days in hospital is harder than that. Obviously this is a situation charged with emotion, certain things will get to me more than they would on the outside. My parents are coming down on Saturday and I can't wait. It's keeping me going, it really is.
Today, due to my as yet unopened bowels, Manjit has prescribed me a laxative. It's a sweet syrup that's not unpleasant. It does make me screw my face up briefly though. My bowels are one of my main concerns now. They tell you not to push or strain but to just let nature take its course. When your sat there though it is so hard not to push. There is a danger of the packing coming out so you do have to be careful. I'm desperate to go whilst the packing is still in though because the risk of prolapse will only increase after the packing is out. Despite a lot of time pent on the toilet though, I can not go and it frustrates me so much.
A strange experience I've begun to notice is that I can feel myself wee. It's so strange and slightly unnerving especially when I'm in bed. I keep forgetting that I'm weeing into a bag and I expect to be covered in urine.
After lunch the ladies in F1 and F2 go home. They are the non trans patients. As they go we wish each other good luck. It seems like we've been together on this ward for an age yet it's only been a few days. That's the thing I've noticed since being here, time seems to react in different ways.
Soon after the beds are empty, F1 gets filled by a Russian lady. She seems scared and doesn't speak a lot of English. She's got something wrong with her blood and so needs an injection. There's a moment when a nurse starts arguing with her over this injection. The nurse eventually gives in and strides off down the corridor. Next thing I know Adele, from the bed to the left of me, is chasing her and shouting at her for 'bullying' the Russian woman. I can see her point although it's a bit of a shock to see Adele so lively after spending all week asleep. It turns out that she's opened her bowels and so is feeling a lot better.
I head to the day room with my IPad. I need to get off the bay for a while, see some different walls. The flowers my parents sent me are in here. You can't keep them next to your bed because of the risk of infection. Deborah's managed to get out of bed and she's in here reading a book. She's starting to look better although you can tell she's still pretty I'll. Adele walks in and the transformation is pretty amazing. She's managed to have a wash and she looks human. Both her and Deborah have spent the previous days in bed so it's great to see them both up and about. Finally I don't feel alone in F-Bay.
I spend the rest of the evening catching up on my notes for my GRS account before settling down for another night. Tomorrow I'm getting a visitor in the form of a Twitter/Facebook friend. I go to sleep slightly happier than I have done in previous nights.
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