I was admitted to the T.A.U. (Theatre Admissions Unit) at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hoapital on Thursday morning at 7:00am and I was quickly shown to my own room by a nurse. I settled down in the chair and (not exactly sure what to do next) read a book on my IPad. Apparently a nurse was meant to come in to help me get sorted with a hospital gown but the next person I met was the Anaesthetist. He was a very pleasant man and after a couple of the usual questions about height, allergies, etc he was back on his way. Just before he went he mentioned that I was third on the list and could expect to be going to Theatre at around 10ish! A little while after he left Mr Caddy's (my surgeon) assistant popped in to make sure I was ok and to run through my details with me. She seemed a very happy person and instantly put me at ease (which is kinda what you want from someone who's just hours away from slicing you open!). After she went Mr Caddy himself appeared and asked me if I'd had anymore thoughts about what size I'd like to go to. I said that a D would be nice and so he explained that during the surgery he'd inflate a bubble under my skin to see how far it stretched!
A little while after Mr Caddy goes, a nurse appears. She's blonde, in her mid twenties and also called Emma. She's extremely pleasant and starts to run through my details with me. She asks me the usual stuff like name, age, address, etc. When she nears the end of the form she asks me if I'm on my period or if not, how long since I was. I'm not exactly sure what to say at this point so I just say that I don't get periods. Cue one very confused look from the nurse before I explain that I'm transgendered. Although Emma the nurse doesn't know it, she's made my day! Before she leaves she gives me a gown and some paper nickers to wear and asks for a urine sample. I pop to the loo to sort out the urine sample before getting into the hospital clobber. Putting the paper nickers on it strikes me how dehumanising hospital can be. I'm a grown woman putting paper nickers on!
After that I just sit and wait and the time passes very slowly. 10:00am comes and goes and it's pushing 11:30am before a member of the anaesthetist team comes to get me. She quickly runs through my details before we walk to the knock out room. It's down a few very drafty corridors although I'm glad for the air. Being in that small room for four hours wasn't much fun.
When we get to the knockout room I'm told to get on a bed. It reminds me of one of those beds they use to administer lethal injection in America with the arm rests! I jump up on the bed and lie down as they start attaching heart and pulse monitors to me. As I'm lying there I suddenly realise where I am and I start to get flashbacks to March! I find it hard to laugh as I ask myself what the hell am I doing here!? The anaesthetist from earlier shows his face and starts to attach a cannula to the back of my left hand. He asks me what my poison is before suggesting Vodka. The female anaesthetist suggests Gin before I admit that I prefer Vodka. Then follows a conversation about what alcoholic beverage everyone prefers. It's a bizarre conversation to be having in this situation but it takes my mind off the anaesthetic rushing up my arm. It's a cold but comforting feeling and really strange as it heads up the length of my left arm. It starts to ache a bit before I begin to shut my eyes. I hear voices saying 'she's under!' as I feel a mask being put over my face and the bed begins to move through some double doors! Then, instantly, I feel the bed being shoved backwards and a voice saying 'Emma darlin', it's all done!' I start to open my eyes as I come round. Everything feels bizarre. I feel bodies around me as I'm pushed into a bay on the recovery ward. A nice nurse explains that she'll be looking after me while I'm in recovery. I'm in recovery for around an hour. She injects some painkillers through the cannula and keeps monitoring my blood pressure, temperature, ect. Then I'm wheeled back to my original room in the T.A.U.
I lay there for a while watching this black and white film on the telly. The remote doesn't work so I can't even change channels. In the end I ask one of the nurses (a girl called Lucy) to pass me my IPad so I can watch some Downton Abbey. She brings me a cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast. Up until this point I couldn't praise the staff enough but once I've finished my toast they start talking about sending me home! When I cam for my pre-op I was told that I'd be staying in overnight so I planned for that. There's no way I can arrange a lift home that night. What makes their insistence even more bizarre is that I'm still attached to two drains (from either breast) which won't be removed until tomorrow! Over the next few hours they keep trying to get me to sort transport home but there is no one. Because I've had a general anaesthetic it'd have to be some one I knew too so a taxi is out of the question. In the end they admit defeat and I'm wheeled up to ward F2. The staff there instantly make me feel welcome and I'm helped into bed by a male nurse called Richard. There are 3 other beds on this ward all occupied by cancer sufferers. I feel guilty and not once do I tell them that my op is cosmetic! One other the other nurses fetches me a coffee and some biscuits before I settle down for the night. It's quite a restless night because they check the blood pressures at 12:00am and 4:00am. It's comfortable though and I appreciate the painkillers I get through the night.
As morning arrives I have breakfast before deciding I want a wash and freshen up. I'm helped to the bathroom by a young nurse called Jennifer. Once in the shower room she unclips the tight bra I've been put in. It's designed to keep everything in place as it all heals so it pushes my breast together creating quite a nice cleavage. Once the bra is off I can see my new breasts for the first time. They're definitely bigger and more pert and I have sensation too! At that point I come over dizzy and start to feel faint. I feel like I'm going to collapse so Jennifer helps me to a chair. I feel so ill and sweat starts pouring out of every pore. The wash is abandoned and I'm taken back to the ward in a wheel chair. I feel so helpless and so dependant on the nurses that I start to cry back on the ward. They monitor me for an hour and slowly my colour starts to come back. I'm so glad I stayed and it just proves that sending me home might not have been the best idea!
I have my drains out soon after and once they're out I suddenly start to feel better. I manage some lunch and then I manage to wash and get dressed myself. I instantly feel better and at around 1:30pm I'm discharged. I get a taxi home and the taxi driver decides to take the back roads to avoid the busy traffic. This means that we hit a lot of speed bumps and I feel each and every one! I then start to feel sick and I come close to throwing up. I end up spending most of the journey with my head over a plastic bag. Once I get home I head straight for bed. I feel weak and tired but glad to be home as I realise that my recovery has only just begun!
Wait till you get 'boob gurgle', that feelin made me feel sick for the first 2weeks lol
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