Well, that wasn’t a simple keyhole, 8 days less 18 hours of hospital admission, 6 days of fasting and 2 operations.
I was prepared to have an open but I was not prepared for what happened. I had fasted from midnight on Sunday for a Monday operation, but 45 minutes before I left for the hospital I got a call cancelling the waltz. Fair enough and it would be the last time I would be pissed but probably for the last time in this dance. Shortly after I received a call from the booking office for a 9 am start the next day. So Fasting again, I turned up at 9 and lobbed at the booking office. Some trepidation that there may not be a bed (and that became the story of my life as this tale progresses). I lob into the waiting area and get my health checks a slight fever has appeared a quick check and it isn’t too high to worry about and I await my turn.
Around 12:30 my turn comes and I am loaded aboard a bed and taken to the theatre. A small wait while I had a cannula installed (and boy wouldn’t they become the story of my life in the next week). I waited a bit and then was given an injection of something that was supposed to relax me, it did. I remember nothing until I was back in the ward. When I came back I felt a million bucks, so good that I was texting people and removing myself from the family group. My next task was to unpack my bag and get my charger out for my nearly flat phone. I thought this was accomplished quite well for the background of Anna and the nurses screaming at me to stop—something about splitting myself open, which I accomplished with skill and three bleeding wounds that I had opened up.
At some stage, the surgeon came in and I was told (I have no recollection and can only go on what Anna tells me) that the operation was quite complex and that they had never seen another case, bar in textbooks. What was supposed to be a 45-minute operation turned into a 2-and-a-half-hour operation. It appears that my gallbladder was wrapped or attached to my liver and that the artery that feeds blood to the gallbladder was wrapped around the rear. Of some concern were the three gallstones in my bile duct. Two came out but the third did not come out and was of some concern with the possibility of infection and continued pain.
After a nice sleep that night I was confronted by a gaggle of surgeons and assorted medical staff the next morning. They advised me that I need a further operation called an ECRP, and I am not going to write that out in longhand bar to say that it involves a sideways-looking camera, scissors, wire loops and a balloon. The seeming best outcome is that I don’t die, and that will become the continued focus of the conversations with the Drs over the next week and I will come to understand better the more conversation.
Anyway, we got to Wednesday and my blood test came back with elevated Liver function enzymes and a decision was made to send me to Wagga for the procedure booked on Saturday. Then they decided to wait until Thursday’s Bloods came back. These showed a lowering or receding levels of these enzymes. So now the idea is to wait till July 2nd to do the ERCP. And the good news was that I was going home.
So off I went on my way home on Thursday afternoon and I settled in with a nice Gnocchi Al Bacio (prawns, chicken and mushrooms in a pink sauce) pretty much an overload for a post-gallbladder surgery person. What was I thinking of?
A simple breakfast and then some shopping for food. and then a simple lunch of roast chicken breast. Then the pain. The most excruciating pain. and off to the hospital. I was expedited through to the doctor and the surgeons returned. A trip to CT and x-ray and bloods again. After some consulting of minds and the review of bloods, it appears that the errant gallstone had blocked my bile duct. I was admitted for a night in. Griffith ED and a trip to Wagga. With no beds in the hospital, it would be a long night in the ED and drips of antibiotics and saline. Along with the promise of a quick operation to fix the problem. Onto another fast.
A 10 am Patient Transfer to Wagga ED and direct admission saw me waiting in the triage area for hours and when I finally saw the doctor I was told that I would be admitted for a possible operation on Monday and that I was on the emergency list. In fact, I waited and had drips administered in the triage room from 12 pm till nearly 12 pm on Sunday before I had a room.
Once in the room, it was a flow of DRs and surgeons and I was told my procedure would be late Monday. Again the risk of death was explained to me. I fasted from midnight again and waited, and waited. At about 4:30 Monday they came and advised that I would be postponed (story of my life). My response at this stage with hunger about was to say fine, let’s eat. we left for the cafeteria and a quick feed and a sweet, sweet double shot and it was back in time for a meal in the ward.
Tuesday came and early on they got me ready. and I went down about 11 am. I hovered around in holding for a while. before I was taken to the prep area. In there I was cannulated again, well eventually they required two attempts. and was walked to the operating table where I got on. I had a mask placed over me a told to breathe deeply, not sure what this did but it didn’t put me to sleep. I was then told I was going to be injected and that I would feel cold and I would get sparkles. Sure enough, it was cold and I felt sparkles. The next thing I remember is being dragged off the operating table to a bed. I think one of the first things I remember is then sparkles and how they would know. Do they practice on each other or what?
Back in the ward, I was told I could eat and drink so I asked for a milk of all things and shortly after the surgeons arrived and I was advised that it was textbook and that they had not touched the pancreas. This was the fear and what may have killed me. I was let out shortly after and it was off for a night in Wagga.
This was an experience that I won’t forget the people that were there for me (I love you all).
Remember to LOVE LIFE!!