Facial Awareness - Part II

When undergoing surgery, several people try to make you aware of how bad you feel when you wake up from the anaesthetic. Their attempts to convey this are almost always futile.

When I woke up from the anaesthetic my eyes were really blurry…. This was because they covered them in some kind of gel to keep them shut in surgery  which they hadn’t rubbed off properly. In typical overly-dramatic Fiona fashion,  I remember thinking that I was going blind as well as sore, confused, nauseous and scared. The strangest sensation of all, was being completely unable to recognise the configuration of the inside of my mouth. Not only were my top and bottom jaw bones (and therefore teeth) in a new position, it was really swollen inside and outside. I was frantically moving my tongue around inside my mouth trying to understand the new shape and it felt utterly bizarre and alien.

As I felt the rising panic I was acutely aware of some pretty bad stomach pains. This is because, the type of surgery I had (despite their best efforts to stop it), a fair amount of blood can often go into the stomach and cause pain/vomiting. They warn you about this in a cheery fashion as you go into the anaesthetist’s room ahead of the operation. Obviously you don’t really have time to worry about it at that point, which is clearly why they don’t tell you until they’re just about to knock you out. My (slightly evil) cousins had joked about not being able to vomit with your mouth wired shut in the days leading up to the operation and with that fresh in my mind, I kept the sick feeling under control.

Luckily for me, I had a friendly face telling me I was doing really well and making everything a little less frightening – My friend’s big sister Karen was one of the theatre nurses and she was totally awesome. It was a godsend having her come and talk to my mum and me before and after the operation and waking up to someone you recognise in a strange and scary situation is definitely a  comfort. She gently explained to me about the button I had in my hand, which would self-administer morphine as often as I liked. Hello sister morphine! I reckon I pushed it before she’d even finished the sentence.  

 I didn’t know much about morphine before I tried it out… but it is really more-ish. I suppose that’s why they limit you to 1 canister on the good ship NHS. Finding out that it was in limited supply at 1am when it was empty, was rather disappointing. I’d been pushing the button like the world’s very existence depended on it but I may have rationed myself a little, had I known. Apparently most people don’t finish the canister… It only took me 12 hours to scoop the lot. I wonder if there is a world record for intravenous morphine-button pushing? If not… there should be. Let’s get on it!

I even spent visiting hours with my mum and dad whilst completely off-my-face (pardon the expression). During this hazy experience, I managed to do complex fractions (yelling out to them that half of a third was “a sixth!” in the middle of their conversation) and cause simultaneous emotional distress and hilarity by waking up every so often, realising I was running out of drugs and feverishly pushing the button before relaxing back into morphine-land. Trigger happy indeed. This was quite funny but also not something that either of my parents would wish to see again in a hurry. It  would have been more hilarious for everyone were it not for my incessantly bleeding nose and regression to a child-like state.  They do say surgery/anaesthetic is tough on the body… but they don’t tell you in any great detail what that really means. For the next few days, it’s fair to say that I didn’t manage to do much beyond act like I was 5, dribble on myself and cry whenever I saw someone new. I didn’t expect any of that when I ‘prepared’ for the experience!!

I think the swelling took me aback too. Obviously, once I was out of my morphine-haze I looked in a mirror... And was alarmed at how different I looked. I couldn't separate the swelling from the surgical changes (and still find that tough now, 6 weeks later) to see what my new face was going to look like when it emerged from it's swollen chrysalis. It also distorted my other features - features which weren't supposed to change! This was incredibly difficult to comprehend. So much so that I found the swelling was all I could focus on. I felt and looked like a chipmunk... But as the days passed and the swelling went down, I felt like I was making progress. It was really uncomfortable and I didn't recognise myself... but I could at least be positive about it being an obvious and good sign of recovery. This later became a negative... But more on that later.

The bleeding nose had its own issues. The only way to stop an incessantly bloody nose is to place (what is essentially) a tampon under your nose and tie it on with strings round the back of your head. For embarrassment factor and discomfort, it’s like the cone of shame but only more bloody and shameful. I won’t lie, this (and the inability to lie flat to sleep as the fluid drained from my face) was probably one of the most traumatic things that was going on at that stage. Obviously, when I became a little more aware, my face being the size of the moon was also a cause of concern for me. Other things that were stressful at that point were the drains attached to either side of my neck which were like little packs of blood to carry around all the time, a lack of ability to control drool from my numb mouth… and sore/cracked/dry lips which were not helped by the quantities of drool produced. Let us dwell on that lovely mental imagery for a second… mmmm saliva… Right. Let’s move on.

I can’t complain about the hospital – they did a pretty great job – but the food (which I couldn’t really eat anyway), noise and general room-sharing whilst recovering isn’t a particularly fond memory.

The single most horror filled moment of the entire hospital experience was after I had the drains removed on the Wednesday night.

The nurse took them out pretty quickly and put a couple of white fabric plasters over the wound. I was so relieved that I didn’t have to carry them around anymore,  I just wanted to go and clean my teeth/use the obligatory antiseptic mouthwash to freshen up and get ready for bed.  As I swilled the mouthwash around my mouth, I suddenly became aware of a wet feeling on my neck… an unmistakeably MINTY feeling spreading over my neck. 

At first I was just confused… but then it dawned on me: mouthwash had come OUT OF THE DRAIN HOLES IN MY NECK! GAH! It was terrifying and I spent a good portion of the night trying not to worry that I had somehow poisoned myself. 

The next day thankfully, was HOME DAY! I was ready to get the hell out of there and as it turns out, the ward REALLY needed my bed, so turfed me out at midday. I then spent an hour or so in a waiting room whilst my dad came to pick me up and take me home. I thought i would find this easy but i was actually hugely exhausted by the time i got home.

The whole of the hospital experience was mostly what I expected. What I was taken aback by (and extremely grateful for) was the unwavering support of my friends and family. They were texting, whatsapping, facebooking, tweeting, sending cards, visiting me in hospital and anything else they could think of to help me get through it... and it was a MASSIVE boost to my positivity and general well being. It could have been so much more traumatic without all those kind words and well wishes and I will always be grateful to each and every person who gave me that thought. 

Having never been sick, I was quite unaware of how much better you feel from just a few thoughtful messages and I wish I could kiss the faces of everyone who took the time. 

Knowing those people as I do though, it’s probably best I don’t.