All better (well...)

As I was in the midst of waking up this morning, my half asleep body turned over on its stomach! I didn't scream in pain, I didn't wince, I hardly even noticed. 

My visitor this afternoon mentioned something else: I was actually walking straight backed! No more hunch, no more stoop, no more doubling over. 

This morning I took my last morphine based pill. So, now I am on paracetamol and antibiotics only. A great step forward from the five pills a pop I took when I first got out!

And of course it's the weekend. So, life is good!

Yawn...

She never seems to get bored!

Being on sick leave is boring. Now don't get me wrong, I know I am on sick leave for a good reason. I have to recover from an operation. And my body is thankful for the rest. I can walk upright again (you should have seen me when I first got home, I needed a stick to keep me from falling over). The pain is getting less by the day. The infection is finally clearing up (although I now have a severe case of the itch thanks to the bandages). 

I even told my mother last night that I wouldn't have minded another visitor to stay with me for a week! And the people who know me, know that that is a GASP-moment! Since I usually get itchy after only a few days. But so far: one week with my sister, one week in the hospital and one week with my mum and I could still stand more.

The main reason of course is the fact is that I usually meet people on a daily basis. I go to work, I meet and talk to colleagues, passengers, shop personel. My head gets busy dealing with everything. I need to relax when I am home. But now I don't meet people on a daily basis. I don't go to work, so I don't meet any colleagues or passengers and I don't go to the shops. Well, hardly anyway! My head doesn't fill with new things. 

Instead I blog (one way of getting to my goal), I play games online, I watch television. I have plenty of books and a whole lot of knitting waiting for me as well. Yet, I am still bored. Or at least, my head is. Four more weeks. I had better start a project!

A visitor

As I was watching something this morning, I thought I heard a noise. Was somebody trying to get in, was somebody trying to get my attention? Miss Oswin didn't seem to be too bothered, so I forgot about it. Then a few minutes later, I heard a sheep! Oh no, another escapee! But, since Miss Oswin still didn't seem too bothered, I again forgot about it. 

Until I let Miss Oswin out. She was starting to play with things she is not supposed to play with, so it was time she got some fresh air. And there she was. In my garden. The escapee! Drinking water from the wheel barrow, eating grass, making sure the manure was well spread all over!

Since I don't know who the sheep belongs to, I can't ring the farmer. I know she should be in the field behind the fence, but in my condition I am not good in catching or herding a sheep. So, for now she can eat grass as much as she wants and if she wants to make sure the grass is well manured (is that a word?), she can do so! 

Twenty-eight

1. I had a cat called Julius.

2. I don't like mushrooms.

3. I don't mind mushroom soup though. As long as there are no mushrooms in it.

4. I have the whole series of M*A*S*H on dvd.

5. Yet I still will watch it on television when it's on.

6. I love Eurovision (in case you didn't know).

7. I don't remember much from when I was 16 years old. 

8. My favourite flowers are carnations. Especially deep red ones. Even if they are considered funeral flowers here in Norway.

9. I cried buckets when I saw Hachi. Embarassingly so. Really, it was ugly! Like snot and such!!

10. I spend too much time on the internet. Even if I am on sick leave.

11. I like reading romance novels. You know the ones: boy meets girl, they fight over something silly, they make up, they live happily ever after.

12. Yet, I am reading The Gulag Archipelago by Alexandr Solzhenitsyn at the moment. Not light reading by anybody's standards.

13. I can't think of a number 13. I really can't.

14. I always try to sit on the right hand side of a plane, preferably by the window.

15. I have amazing friends and family.

16. I don't really like roses. 

17. I have close to 300 Christmas films.

18. I turned 28 in 1999. 

19. I have one little brother and one little sister.

20. I am however the smallest of the three. 

21. I have been known to become travel sick on both bus, car and boat.

22. I am a romantic at heart. Deep down.

23. I used to be so surprised when boys knew my name. Even if we had spent eight years in the same classroom!

24. My first car was a Fiat Panda. 

25. I don't really have a favourite colour. I like different colours for different things.

26. My eyes are blue. 

27. I still have a teddy bear, although it has been a few years since he last spent time in my bed.

28. This post has taken me about two hours to write. So, you had better appreciate the effort!!!

This post is prompted by Spin Cycle. Thank you Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie.

In stitches

Thanks to yet another colleague of mine who came and picked me up, I was able to make my way to the doctor's office this morning. Don't worry, it was a planned visit, because the stitches were due to come out. 

I say stitches, but they were in fact staples. I have been feeling a bit stationary lately as well, so perhaps one has to do with the other? Anyway, back to the subject at hand. The staples were due to come out. In the hospital I had been given a gadget to take with me to the doctor's office and of course I remembered about it when we pulled up in front of the office. Typical. But, I figured they would have something as well. I was right.

I got into the room, where I had to lie down on a bed. Which they first had to lower, since it was too high up for me in my condition. After I had settled, the assistant got to work with her thingymebob. It didn't hurt a bit. Well, the first three didn't. Then came a few that were a bit iffy, but once they were out, it was fine. Until...

Until she got to the lowest ones. Now, remember I have got an infection and that is where the infection is residing. Not only is it painful, it is also red, oozing and swollen. And especially that last bit (swollen) caused the most pain. Because the staples had to come out. I really had to grit my teeth! In the end the doctor came in, took out the last 3 staples (out of 32) and started to clean it. He then dressed it again, gave me a new prescription for antibiotics and told me that if in three days it wasn't on the mend, I needed to come back.

I now have only a few pills to take every day. Only three different ones (as opposed to the five I took before). The paracetamol and antibiotics I take four times a day and then there is a morphine based one that I take once a day. I am definitely on the mend!

Photo on Sunday 2015-06

My own little corner. Perfect for the sick! Thank you for the cards Pepperfly and Gera.

Out and about

The doctor had given me a sick note to hand in to the relevant people. Which meant that on Tuesday me and my mum had to make our way to the local sick pay office. Now, my mum is not a confident driver and if she could have avoided it, she would have. But she couldn't, so she had to drive. All of three miles in an unknown car, on windy and narrow lanes and with a patient beside her. And she managed great! I was so proud of her!!

First we drove to the school where we parked, because from there we would take the bus, avoiding traffic. After the bus there would be a bit more walking to get to the building we had to be. Then walking to the pharmacy and to the shop and then back to the busstop to go back home. By the time I got home I was feeling it.

The next day (Wednesday, so a week after surgery) I needed to get my hormone injection, which meant a visit to the pharmacy to pick up said injection and then to the doctor's office. This time I was picked up by a former colleague and taken home again. So, not much walking. 

That evening however, I had a bit of a mishap. We had a visitor and all of a sudden, after taking a bit too big of a sip of tea, I had to thrust my cup in the visitor's hand, get up fast and spit out the tea and have a coughing fit. Not good for somebody with an incision in her stomach! After I got back in my seat, I felt some wetness, but thought it might have been some spilt tea. The visitor left and I had a look. I called back the visitor to drive us to the doctor's because it wasn't as it should have been. 

At the emergency doctor's office they took off the bandage and had a look. The wound was nice and clean, but there was some wound fluid coming through. And the blood test they took showed there was the beginning of an infection there as well! They redressed it and then presribed a course of antibiotics. More pills!

Fortunately since then it hasn't become worse. I now have the means to clean the dressing myself, although my mum is doing it as long as she is here, because that is just easier. Better access and all that. I have taken it a lot easier and have been trying to sleep on my back more instead of on the side. But an occasional trip to the shop is not to be sniffed at either. Because even though I live in a beautiful spot, seeing the same thing day in day out can get a bit too much!

The pain is however decreasing and my mobility is on the up. Not ready just yet for a big hike, but definitely better than I thought. Which is good, since my mum is leaving today and I will have to fend for myself! Oh, and for Oswin as well. 

Getting out

 

I had been allowed (healthwise) to leave the hospital on Sunday, but alas I didn't have a way to get home, so Monday it was. Another lovely shower, breakfast, medication. The gynaecologist came by and this time I remembered to ask the things I had previously forgotten. Not only that: I wrote it down, so I wouldn't forget! The nurse came by to change the dressing on the wound and finally I was able to get my clothes on. 

Ehm... yes. Get my clothes on. Now, I should have brought jogging trousers or some such, but instead I had jeans. Big jeans mind, but my belly was swollen from surgery and there was no way I could close the zip and the button. I went on the hunt for a solution and found it in some cloth that was tied around the button hole and then over the button. Perfect. At least now I could walk around (in moderation) decently. 

The car came to pick me up and drive me about 500 meters. I had been in the quiet and smallish women's clinic, now I went to the noisy and large main hospital. There I had to wait for the bus that would take me home. Of course you might say: but wasn't there a bus on Sunday and there was. But that would have been the ordinary public transport bus, this was the Health Express. Kitted out with two nurses, room for bedridden patients, wheelchair bound patients and walk on-walk off patients such as myself. 

At the local hospital I was picked up by my colleague who drove me home where my Mum was already waiting, not quite with dinner ready, but almost. I had visited the pharmacy before going home and had received an amount of pills that had to be taken once, twice, three or four times daily! A bit of a puzzle, but we got there in the end. After dinner we watched some telly, I helped with the dishes and went to bed early. 

At home. At last!

To be continued...

Getting up

This is how I would go around a lot

I managed to get get up once on Thursday. Well twice if you count the very first time they hoisted me up and I got so dizzy I had to get back down again immediately. After the blood transfusions though, I got up once more (with a nurse present) and managed to walk from bed to door and back again. 

That night was a bad night. At one point I had taken out one of the pillows under my head but couldn't get it back under once I had it fluffed. I couldn't get hold of the duvet well enough to cover myself, I got stuck in the night shirt and I was in a fair bit of pain. In the end I pushed the button and the nurse came to sort me out. Over the next ten minutes the amount of epidural was coming continually and the pain subsided. The pillow was replaced, the nightshirt and duvet were sorted out and I fell asleep again.

Freshly showered

Friday was a good day. The epidural had been increased, the wound catheter was taken out and I felt on top of the world. So, I walked up and down the hall way, I got my own (solid for the first time) food and was feeling good. The next day wasn't as good. During the night the epidural had finished and was take out in the morning. On the plus side, they also took out the bladder catheter and I was now able to roam the hall way without pushing a pole and holding a bag. Unfortunately the lack of epidural did influence my pain level quite a bit and it definitely wasn't my best day. By night however, we had discovered the right amount of painkillers. And I was still quite proud of myself: I had gotten up every time to eat and whenever I needed the little girl's room.

The royal nurse on the hunt for flies

Sunday I was up and about a lot. Well, inbetween watching the skating and biathlon. I got visitors. I was feeling well. But the best part of Sunday must have been the shower. That heavenly shower in which I could wash my hair. In which I could let the water just fall over me. I really really enjoyed that. Very much!! By then I also was the sole occupier of the room, my room mate had left on Saturday. Which meant open window at night at least. We tried during the day as well, since it was glorious weather, but the big black flies that came in weren't what they wanted in the hospital and I had to close the window again. Ah well.

To be continued...

Slicing and dicing

On the day of the operation I was picked up from my room shortly before eight in the morning. I had had nothing to eat since midnight, a paracetamol and a shower and was ready. Well, as ready as you can be for something that is completely new and quite scary. 

I was wheeled down to the lift and went down to the first floor where the operation would take place. Everybody introduced themselves, but in the end all the names just became one blur. But, there would be two surgeons, two anesthesists and several nurses. I got needles in both hands and they set to work to give me an epidural. First he started tickling me (I couldn't help it, I am ticklish), but soon he thought he had found the perfect spot for the needle to go in. 

Other things were stuck on me for monitoring purposes, several patches on my chest, a rubber thingy on my finger and a blood pressure band on my arm. By the time the epidural started to work it was about 8.25am and I was starting to feel the effect somewhat. By the time my first leg was hoisted in position, the anesthesia had started to work and I was under.

When they sliced me open, they quickly realised I didn't have cancer. There was however another fairly big problem. One that would cause that two hour operation to last nearly five! Because the uterus and the ovaries and the ovarian tubes had basically become one big organ, also incorporating the bladder, urine ducts and intestines! In other words: Endometriosis (like my clever friend Pepperfly already said back in September). They took a small sample of my right ovary and had that checked out for cancer but found nothing (final results due in two weeks) and then had to start to carefully cut out the organs that were due to come out. At the same time of course they didn't want to damage any of the remaining organs either. It took some time...

When I woke up again I had just been wheeled into the recovery room (just before 2.30pm). I stayed there until 6am the next morning when I was kicked out due to a few new arrivals and me being in the best shape. I was quite weak, mainly because of the bloodloss. Due to the long duration of the operation and the severe slicing and dicing they had to do, I had lost about 1,3 liters of blood. Out of about 5 liters that is a fair bit. I did however get two transfusions later that day that helped me recover most of my strength. It certainly helped me from a sickly pale colour to my more normal pale colour!!

To be continued...

I didn't know

I didn't know the hospital I went to liked to boil their patients before any operation. My, it was hot in the room and opening a window wasn't always possible. Although once I had the room to myself, I did open the window at night.

I didn't know the hospital I went to was scared to cut of one of my arms: they put on a name tag on both arms! Fortunately I came home with both arms intact. Albeit with a few more holes in hands and elbow pits. 

I didn't know why the local hospital had sent me to the Bergen university hospital. Well, something to do with blood tests being too high, but that could mean just about anything. Perhaps I had been sat too high and should have been sat on the floor while they took the test? 

Well, on arriving in Bergen I soon found out. Because one of the first things I was asked to do was sign two forms, both to do with research into cancerous growths. Yes, cancer. The Big C. As in cancer in the ovaries. Let me explain... 

One of the things they test during the blood test is a thing called CA125 which can indicate a higher chance of cancer in the ovaries. And my values were higher than they should be during the first test and even higher the second time they tested. Which indicated that the chance of me having cancer was quite high. Which meant no local hospital, but a full out university hospital with all the possibilities to do the best job ever. 

The surgeon (Dutch which was really nice) told me about everything and told me about what they were going to do: take out the uterus (because yes, that contained the big myoma), take out the ovaries (because of the cancer) and take out several lymphnodes in my belly lining. After the two hour operation I would need to recover and then I would get injections for a month (I would have to do that myself after the hospital stay). They didn't mention any other treatment at that point. 

To be continued... (although don't worry about the cancer: I don't have it)

Friday 13th

Are you superstitious? Do you avoid walking under ladders? Black cats? Do you throw salt over your shoulder when you spill some? And today being Friday 13th, are you staying in bed all day to avoid all those creepy bad things that will happen if you get out?

I walked under a ladder a few weeks ago. Unless I wanted to walk through soaking wet grass, it was the only way to get to my front door. Mind you, I did ask the roofer whether it was safe first. No need to get a roofing tile splitting my skull! 

I have met a black cat a few years ago. It preferred my sister, yet nothing bad happened to me: only weeks later I found this old wooden cottage I now live in very happily. 

And spilling salt? I can't remember ever doing that. I don't use it that much either, so no need to go throwing it over my shoulder! 

Today is Friday 13th and my mum is coming. I told her to get her luggage in Oslo. I hope she did, otherwise she will have to wear my clothes. Which are too big for her. I arranged a pick-up for her from the local airport. I hope they recognise each other. I sent a photo of the picker-upper to my mum and the picker-upper only needs to look for me, just a bit greyer.

But, hopefully Friday 13th will turn out to be a positive day. Because I hope (writing this on Monday) that I will be coming home today. 

Fingers crossed!

The kitchen

Did I ever tell you where I live? This little wooden cottage in the Norwegian country side? Where I have occasional electricity problems, water problems, sewage problems and heat problems? No?? How negligent of me! 

The kitchen is old. I have had to screw the drawer so it wouldn't fall apart every time I opened it. Some of the doors of the cabinets had a tendency to come off completely, but I managed to get that sorted. The space is big enough for a decent kitchen, yet that's the last thing I would call it! Decent that is. But...

Change is afoot. On Monday I got a phonecall from the landlady (concerning something else) and after we had sorted that something else, she continued with 'Can I come over next week and take some measurements, since we want to install a new kitchen?' 

Of course she can! Gladly!! And she will get water samples as well. Good thing. Good thing. Something to look forward to... 

Experience

Now, today is the day of my operation. I have never had an operation before. Ever. Not counting the wisdom teeth. I have never stayed in a hospital either. Not counting the half hour or so to visit family or friends. So, this week's experience is a true experience. 

When I remember visiting family or friends, I remember my father in his own pair of pj's, my friend in her own clothes. I was therefore completely set on taking pj's and some extra clothes. And then I was told that the minute I got into hospital, I would be given hospital stuff to wear. Oh! That was unexpected. Ah well, all part of the experience I guess...

Since this is a preposted post, I am not quite sure as to whatever else is going to happen or has happened already. I probably have talked to an anesthesist yesterday, hopefully a gynaecologist. Blood samples? X-ray? You tell me, since I haven't got a clue. It's also part of the experience I guess!

The operation today will be a biggie. No keyhole surgery for me! No, a complete slash, horizontally or vertically. I might suggest both, just to be on the safe side. Then again, I don't want an ignoramus to tell me about how to drive either, so I might just keep schtum and not offend a doctor in the know. Having such a large cut, will mean a lot of stitches I think. I have only ever had three after my encounter with the breadknife two years ago. It's certainly going to be an experience and a half.

New experiences are always (well almost always anyway) good. I hope these fall in that category!

iPfrt

My mp3-player doesn't hold that many songs. Nor does it shuffle that well, unless you want to hear the same song over and over again. So, a new music device was in order. An iPod with plenty of space for all my music and then some! After a false start I managed to get the music on, managed to take a photo or two and then left it until needed. 

Which was yesterday. I needed to load the battery so I could use my new and shiny yellow iPod on my way to the hospital today. I plugged it in my USB-loader: nothing. But then again, my sister had severe trouble as well over the weekend, so I tried again later. Nothing. So, I decided to plug it in to my laptop. Nothing. Absolutely nothing! It was not recognised and would not be recognised no matter what I tried. Nor did the battery load at all!

I haven't thrown my mp3-player out which is good, because that's what I am using today! 

*Sigh*

Bye

Well, after a relaxing week she left this morning. Late all the way thanks to the first plane being delayed and she then had to have a complete new journey. But she made it home in the end. 

Thank you for 'looking after me'!

Photo on Sunday 2015-05

Spring is on its way! 

It's a holi-holiday

After the initial few days of being quite tired and even going to bed early (ish, considering I didn't have to go to work early the next morning), by Wednesday I was feeling a bit better and thanks to my sister being here, also quite resigned to having the operation moved to Bergen. It was like Anvilcloud commented (paraphrasing here): it's not often somebody is so disappointed about not being cut open. 

Well, the new date for the cutting open bit is set (into hospital on Tuesday, operation on Wednesday), my mum is flying to Haugesund just before the weekend to look after me for that first week. Hopefully I will be well enough by then already to be able to go home as well. I have decided to take the ordinary bus to Bergen, I have after all, plenty of time. 

The rest of this week was spent in a fairly lazy manner. We went on a few walks, read books, crocheted (my sister), made cake, did some shopping and watched television. Basically enjoying a lovely beach holiday without the beach. 

Yesterday I went out on my own though: we had the annual meeting for the Staff Club. First I was roped into the counting corps and even had to count the votes and then at the end I was suggested as a member of the Election committee. Basically next year I will have to approach people and ask whether they would be interested in sitting in the board of the Staff Club. It's only a small job, since I declined the offer of becoming the vice-chairman. 

So, there you have it. My holiday is nearly over, I will be taking my sister to the airport before going back to work on Monday. For one day only and then I will be on sick leave for at least six weeks. 

Result

Well, I got on the phone again today. And this time I got answers as well: I have to be in the hospital next week Tuesday! Yes!! I phoned my mum after that and now the big logistics game will start. I will need to find out how to get to Bergen. 

Will I drive to the busstation and then take the ordinary bus, will I drive to the local hospital and then take the Health Express (a special shuttle bus between hospitals, equipped with nurse and such) or will I get someone to do the awful thing and pick me up from home at way too early in the morning to take me to the busstation or hospital.

My return home. The ordinary bus is out of the question, so it will most likely be the Health Express, unless one of my colleagues will pick me up and takes me home. 

Then there is Oswin. I know who I can get to look after her, so that is not too big a problem. And she might end up with more food than she bargained for with me again, so I bet she will be happy enough!

And of course there is my Mum. The information I have now say that I will most likely stay up to the weekend. So, would it be wise for my Mum to come on the Sunday or the Monday? And how will she fly? Direct to a place far away or with stops to the airport just across the water from me? The latter is the most likely, but then she will need to come over here as well. Can I find somebody to pick her up or will it turn out to be a taxi? What to do with the key? 

Ah well, we have a week to figure everything out! I will be off until this Sunday, then I will be at work for a day and then finally....

Mr Moon

It needs repairing and then I will try and make a copy!

It was a quarter to five this morning that I woke up. Mr Moon (which wasn't even full) was shining into my room. I got up, did my thing (ie feed Oswin, popped pills) and went back to bed. Mr Moon was not amused: he woke me up for a good reason after all! The operation Mara, the operation! 

Sorry to say Mr Moon, the operation will not take place today. And the new date is as yet unknown. They told me last week that the people in Bergen would contact me last week. Well, it's this week and still not a peep out of them. I called today and have to call back again tomorrow! Great!!

In the mean time, my sister arrived yesterday to look after me (yes: to look after me). She brought a mouse and a lot of wine. But of course I am most pleased by seeing her again with or without mouse and wine. She will be leaving next Monday and I doubt I will have been cut up by then. 

A new friend for Oswin

However Mr Moon, don't worry too much about my wellbeing after the operation. Remember that line I wrote out of sheer frustration, anger, disappointment and a whole lot more things I can't put into words? It's bad enough not having my mum around, but now nobody? Well, my mum phoned me a few days later and told me she would be happy to come to Bergen. We decided however that instead of her coming to Bergen and not being able to do much at all, it would probably be best if she were to come to my home instead when I get out of hospital. Whenever that may be!

Tonight however, I will close the curtains on you Mr Moon! No need to wake up so early when I don't have to go anyplace.

Photo on Sunday 2015-04

I went on a baby visit on Friday and saw these two tiny little two-week old babies. And before you ask: yes, they were twins! They were so cute! Since I had rather not post photos of said cuties here (I don't know how mum and dad feel about it), I only posted photos of my hand. And the hand of baby number 2.