Thursday, July 13, 2006

perianal is very painful

I should never whinge about the cfs aches ever again - not now I've experienced the searing agony of a perianal abscess.

It started on Thursday - I just thought it was a heat rash at first, quite a reasonable supposition given the heat and the clothing I wore that day, plus all the walking I did - those jeans chafe!
Sadly by 5am Monday morning it was painfully obvious that this was no mere rash - nor even just a spot, so an emergency Dr's appointment was made.
Within 30 seconds of glancing at my nether regions he'd stated that it needed to be 'seen to' and was on the phone to the surgeon on call at hope hospital.

By 6pm I was in the A&E reception giving my details to the triage nurse, about an hour and a half later I was admitted to a ward and put on a drip (something I never wish to experience again) then at 9.45 was told that as I wouldn't be operated on that night I could eat - so my lovely man went home, cooked me some pasta and brought it back for me.
Sadly I should probably have not bothered as at around 6am the next morning I threw it all straight back up after a nasty post-painkiller incident..

..Man, that was embarrasing!

I'd had no sleep because of the pain, they couldn't give me any more painkillers until 5am despite the fact the previous ones had worn off and I couldn't stop crying because of the burning agony in my arse. At 5am, Anne, the senior nurse on the ward, gave me some stuff that's 'just like morphine' so I fell into a drug induced doze for around 2 hours, I woke up feeling as though my life was being drained out of the drip (it was empty and no one had been around to change it) I was trying to avoid the rabbits (don't ask, like I said, it was the drugs) and as after 30 minutes no one had been to see me despite my buzzer going, I decided to navigate my way to the reception (slow going as I was dragging myself along gripping the drip carrier for dear life)

At this time, as luck would have it, the nurses were changing shift. I called out for someone to come and remove the drip as by now it was making me nauseous and in my head all I could hear were sucking sounds and the only thought I had was "PLEASE GET IT OFF ME" I must have looked a sight in my nightie hair disheveled and hanging onto my metal stand for dear life.

the first 2 nurses I appealed to just walked straight passed me, the third came over and said I had to go back to my bed and they'd see to me there, no one made a move to remove the offending article which by now seemed to be causing me undue distress, it actually hurt.
Then I started to pass out, the nurse grabbed me as my eyes rolled back and I hit the floor, I heard her call out for someone to help her, then people started trying to get me onto a chair to take me back to my bed, I managed to tell them I was going to be sick in time for a container to be thrust under my face, then I spewed up my lovely pasta meal - I remember thinking I was sure I'd chewed the mushrooms better than that..

I started thinking a little clearer after that but by then no one was listening to me, I tried to explain I couldn't sit and struggled as they tried to force me onto this chair.. To no avail - I was pushed down and the acute pain of my abscess coming into contact with the seat brought me fully out of the drug haze, people were laughing at me - I was so embarrassed.. And it still took another 20 minutes for Anne to come and remove the drip that had caused all the fuss in the first place.
I felt like an idiot!

Anyhow, then the anesthetist came round, that was probably the most pleasant part of my day.
He explained that the Dr's were being phased out of his specialty and that special nurses were being trained up to take his place, then the nurse he was training took over the conversation - she gave the most thorough run down on going under general anesthetic I've ever heard in my life - and I've gone under on numerous occasions!

Sadly this talk was interrupted by several doctors coming in to peruse my nether regions, measuring and making notes on the shape and location of my pus filled growth - I have no dignity any more, no longer need I shy away from wearing a bikini - I may even try out a nudist camp, it would be far less embarrassing than the last few days in hospital have been.

anyhow at 11am I was taken away by the lovely nurse Wilma (who had to go searching for my notes, someone had taken them off the bed and left them at reception) to go to the room they administer the general anesthetic, the last thing I remember are the words "I'm just going to inject this painkiller into your arm.. It should make you feel a little woozy" and then I was coming around in the recovery room with Wilma leaning over me removing my oxygen mask, I don't remember much of that day as I spent most of it sleeping.
Thankfully I woke up just before the drip ran out this time so I could call for assistance before it began causing me pain.

I tried to sleep the night through but one of the women on the ward was calling for a nurse every 5 minutes, I think at one point they disabled her button because then she started literally calling - quite pitifully "nurse, nurse, someone help me, please help me, nurse.." And so on, then she started tapping on her bed frame obviously trying to get some attention. So I went out to the reception to get someone for her.

I had some more painkillers and slept again, then I needed the loo - I'd been dreading this because of the dressing, I got the nurse to help me to the bathroom, she left me there and said to call her when I was done, when I went in however I couldn't help but notice that there was excrement all over the seat - I stumbled back out to reception and was ignored by the 3 staff members there so I went back to the toilet and pressed the call button. All I wanted was some cleanser so I could just go to the toilet - I was directed to the next room instead - where the seat was covered in urine - and the same blood spotted urine sample from the day before was situated under the sink in it's cardboard container.
This time I just shut the door and cleaned the seat with tissue and hand soap before lining the toilet seat with more tissue and doing my business.

I was so wiped out after that I crashed again. The whole time I was there - only the anesthetist knew what CFS was, it was completely ignored by everyone else - even the Dr asked what I did for a living after finding out I had it.

When I got up again I was directed to the shower, I asked if I could wash properly and she said that it would be a lot easier for me if I cleaned the dressing - it was not made clear that I should completely remove the dressing (and to be honest, my bathroom at home is cleaner than the ones at the hospital - I wasn't sure removing it was a good idea)

I had my shower, then had to wait again for a nurse to be free to come change my dressing - she was none too gentle about it either. I literally screamed into my pillow and couldn't stop crying for a good 10 minutes afterwards, I requested that the curtains stay closed because I was just so embarrassed about being so pitiful. You'd never believe I once did martial arts, my pain threshold now is none existent.

About an hour later I began throwing up for no apparent reason.
Turns out codeine has that effect.
I was told I couldn't go home until that was under control.. Fair enough - 2 hours later, I had it seemingly under control, asked if I could go home and was told I'd need to be seen by a Dr, then I was left alone for another hour, my blokey rang up to see when he could come get me, they told him they were waiting on my prescription being filled, when it finally came it was gone 6pm. The package I'd been waiting for consisted of a pack of codeine and a pack of paracetamol - no dressings, antibiotics, just painkillers.
I've never been so glad to leave a place in my life.

I was told that I had to go see the district nurse at swinton medical centre at 12:00 (today) to get my dressing changed. I assumed she meant my doctors surgery (poplars medical centre in swinton) and so after showering I painfully made my way downstairs and knelt in the passenger side footwell of the blokeys fiat coupe with my head on the seat for the nightmare 10minute journey, he half carried me out of the car to the reception where we were told we had the wrong place.
By this time I was in agony, nevertheless we went to the indicated clinic (not medical centre, clinic) where they also knew nothing about me coming in. I just kept on crying, I was tired, in pain and my backside was wet through from the shower (the hospital nurse said I had to try and clean before the dressing was changed)
The nurse who came through went and checked with all the teams who were left (clinic finished at 11.30) and said they thought they'd had a referral but she wasn't sure, she took me through to the treatment room , expressed disgust that I'd been sent home with no dressings, changed the one I had on with the gentlest hands I've ever experienced and calmed me down marvelously - she even managed to get me a prescription sorted for a weeks worth of dressings and organised a nurse to come to the house until Sunday.
Hopefully by Monday I'll be fit enough to get there myself without wincing with every step.

In the meantime, I cannot sit down, too much movement hurts, I've come on again and I'm dreading a bowel movement, roll on it being healed.

Now all I want to know is:

WHY ME?!

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