Home Baby Yeah (right, I'll stop that now)

So I last blogged on Friday 5th, by the Sunday, when Joh came to visit, I was at wits end. I lasted about 30 minutes into visiting time before the curtains came round the bed and I broke down in tears, sobbing like a fucking baby. I'd simply had enough of being in hospital, but on top of that putting a brave face on the constant pain I was in and discomfort.
Joh vowed to do all she could to get me out on the Monday, and home where I belong. She left and I was quietly hopeful that I'd be on my way home by tea time Monday.

That night, I tucked myself into bed early, put my headphones on and had a doze. I awoke around midnight with my phones still in and unplugged. I asked the ward nurse for a brew, had a piss, then went back to sleep, sat upright in as comfortable position as I could be. I awoke with a start at 4:15 in the morning, and for some reason was holding an empty cup. I thought I'd spilt it down me as all my right side was wet. I reached down into the dampness and it felt sticky, and substantially more than a small glass of water that I thought I'd poured over myself. When I switched the light on, my heart sank and the tears started flowing again. The sticky mess was where the stitches on my back had burst from the swelling that was keeping me in hospital. It was all red and mucky and I just had visions of me staying in for another week to get it sorted. I called the night nurses and they came and cleaned me up, dressed the wound and left me with a cup of tea while they called the house officer to come see. Needless to say, no-one came, and I didn't get seen until later than morning at 11:30 by my own doctor.

I'd sent Joh a text that night explaining what had happened around 5am, so when she woke she called me and promised to do all she could to get it sorted as best as possible, but to be prepared for the news that I may have to stay in for a few more days. I cried again.
I really didn't want to spend another night there, and it was really beginning to get me depressed. I lay in bed all that morning waiting for the doctor, barely speaking to anyone. The day nurses were excellent, reassuring me and comforting me knowing that I was very pissed off.
Eventually the doctor turned up and was positive from the outset, saying he was glad the swelling had burst and that if I wanted to go home today he'd get it sorted straight away. Music to my ears. He started ordering the nurses around to get him this and that to put a drain on the wound and clean it all up, consulted his underlings for my latest stats, then simply said "you can go home today" and shot off to his next patient.

AWESOME!

I called Joh straight away, who'd spent the morning on the phone to the Doctors colleagues and other nurses to ensure he knew my state of mind and came to the right decision, I have her to thank big style for getting out of there. I love you darling.

Now, reading that back seems that I hated being in the MRI, but the truth is the staff were excellent and the place itself wasn't bad, it's just the lenght of time and the fact that I didn't feel that ill as such, that I needed to stay in any longer. I was ready to come home, and fight my recovery fight here with Joh's and the kids support, rather than in there. I'd like to say a big thanks to all the staff on HDU and WARD 11 who looked after me during my stay, angels the bloody lot of you xx

Which leaves me here at home, arriving around tea time on Monday night.
The dogs went mad! Toby especially. Ellie was happy to give me a big lick all over my face, but Toby wanted to jump all over me, soft dog he is. Some restraint was called for and he eventually calmed down.

I spent the first night in my own bed in 17 days, and it was bliss. I slept till about 3 in the morning from getting my head down around 10pm, the longest I'd slept in any period in hospital, then slept through to 6, dozed, slept again till 9, breakfast in bed, egg buttie heaven, then slept again till 1pm.

Feeling totally rested, I got up, showered and Joh changed the dressing on my wound, and took a few photos of my scars in the meantime:

You can see I'm having no problems with the one on my stomach, but the one on my back is where the fluid was/is leaking from still. Even today, after being home for such a short time and properly resting, it's clearing up already. There really is no place like home.

So the fight goes on. I've got some major healing to do and it's going to be a hard slog. With Joh and the kids behind me it makes it a whole lot easier, but I think I underestimated how hard this part of the treatment was going to be. That still scares me shitless, even though I'm technically cancer free now.

Bring it on. xx