4th discharged from hospital complete with assorted meds and dressings.
5th a district nurse arrived to look at my surgery sites and redress the largest one.
12th I contacted the 'team' as it was a week since the dressing was changed. Someone left a message for me...
Had a phone-call followed by another district nurse. Now, there's no dressing, but an instruction to go carefully. Seems I have now been discharged from the care of the district nurses group, but I have a phone number, just in case.
Problem being, I do not feel like 'me'.
I've encountered and surmounted the various hurdles that count as progress on the way to recovery.
Right hemicolectomy - basically - began with keyhole surgery and camera for a look see. Widened to remove a large section of bowel including the mass they came across. Stuff sent to be tested to find out what's what.
But in myself I am not 'right'. I spent about a fortnight learning the minutiae of being on the receiving end of treatment. English language / creativity scholars would have a 'field day'.
Recitation of several phrases throughout the day. Pain? Score 1-10 with 10 being the worst. Have you kept your fluid levels / pulse ox levels up? I need to take your blood pressure, can you put this (probe) under your tongue / behind your teeth?
Sit out in your chair.
Have you had a wash? Have your bowels opened (details). Any sickness?
Then there's the meds routines...
Odd how staff behaviour / personality changed with their uniforms.
Staff nurses in a terpsichorean spiral from shift to shirt and ward to ward. Brittly 'happy' and ready for the fray.
The smooth running of the ward interrupted as the 'great and the good' i.e. Consultant made his rounds.
It became easier to cope when fewer people paid attention to this patient.