If it's going to happen it will happen on the busiest Friday of the year at 5pm......
I was daring to feel more positive about my body on its road to recovery, moving about more but not overexerting, resting a lot and eating sensibly. With support from my mum during the day I was really lucky, she had gone home and I pottered into the kitchen when I felt something dripping down my leg, looked down and saw blood - aaaarrrrghh!!!!
This is quite a shocking thing to happen when you think you're all glued up and told that nothing can drop out, but the blood was coming from my incision and had soaked through my dressing, saturating it and then when I stood up....drip drip drip....horror movie or what???
So my initial reaction was, 'ok I'm not going to die' so I shuffled back to the sofa and called my partner and my mum. Then I called 111, the NHS helpline and a nurse asked me several questions to ascertain what was going on. As the doctors surgery was shut for the weekend (this still makes me laugh as people get ill on a Saturday and Sunday too) I was advised to get to my nearest A&E or call an ambulance. So holding a towel against my belly I was driven to the A&E department where I hoped to get some treatment and also to find out why this had happened two weeks after my surgery. I have great respect for the medical profession but follow-up care is sadly lacking in the overstretched NHS.
After being poked, told that the gorier the better for one A&E nurse(!) and talked about while still in the room, I had my blood taken then waited 3 hours in a room with the door closed (and no call button) before having more dressings put on my seeping wound and told to come back tomorrow if it had soaked through. Apparently, a bit of blood can be trapped after surgery and needs to come out somehow, with me it chose to come out on a Friday evening.
It was not an experience I ever want to repeat, not only was I told that someone would see me 'in a minute' (they didn't), they didn't let my partner and mum know I was waiting in the room alone and being an impatient patient I shuffled off the bed holding my belly like a pregnant woman (ironic as post-hysterectomy!) walked past at least 10 members of staff looking like death warmed up, and into a packed waiting room. I reckon if I was auditioning for a zombie movie I would get the star zombie role handed to me there and then!
I turned to mum on the way home in the car and said, if I need my dressing changed tomorrow I'm doing it, never, ever take me back there! I know I sound ungrateful but with the correct information and reassurance I would have been able to cope with what was happening to my poor healing body. If someone had said to me, it's just a part of the process, just allow it to drain and keep it clean, then I could have approached it with a better frame of mind. It's just as well I'm extremely positive and able to cope with these setbacks.
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