Day 10 Post-Transplant!

So much for follow up – I do apologise if you have been waiting for the news. The interesting thing about the recovery so far has been the way each day seems such a massive improvement on the last. Every morning seems like the best day I’ve had in years. It is followed by an eager approach to the day which is still relatively short lived and soon finds me stretched on a couch somewhere and thinking about how long it will take to get my next wind.

When I wrote on Thursday I thought things were pretty good. Today apparently finds my colour restored to normal (according to my mom) and I was the first out of bed and making tea for the girls for the second day running. But now I am back on the Chesterfield in the airy conservatory and tapping the keyboard, happy not to have to do anything more.

We have had a steady stream of visitors to the house every day and this has been fantastic. Our big Christmas tree [and the rapidly expanding heap of presents underneath!] combines with a steady stream of familiar faces that have brought the most wonderful Christmas spirit into our house.

Today we receive our much loved cousins Jack and Betty (Jason and Adele) and wee Sky Piper and Tails Delta along with them. As you can imagine with my energies restoring and Jason in the house it is likely to be a boisterous afternoon! Well from one couch to another at least…

The hospital seems like a pleasantly receding memory already. Time seemed to slow down for Rich and I while we were interned - there was very little rest to be had on the noisy ward. Contrary to the image of hospitals a place of recuperation, I found it more of a production line for overhauling humans with failing organs. There were constant visits from (very nice and friendly) nurses bearing pills, capsules and needles. The vigil of measuring blood pressure, body temperature, blood oxygen and heart rate went from hourly to twelve hourly, but these always found one at the point of dropping off into a desperately pursued sleep which remained ever illusive.

I woke routinely at 1am and was unable to sleep again before 6am. I’d manage a few hours if I could ignore the breakfast trolley until 9am. The barrage of nurses and doctors once again took their place in the rounds of the ward from about 10, and they would spend at least 1.5 minutes debating ones condition from the foot of the bed, before moving on to the next bed. I discovered that they spent a lot more time in debate beyond earshot before they came for their brief-but-penetrating scrutiny of the patient.

The conversations were dense with information. If you could remember it there were at least four hours of pondering over it to be had once they had departed. A few more hours of sleep might be gleaned between 5 and 9 pm when there ensued another barrage of dispensing and prodding, emptying, bed changing and general discomfort. This was distracted however by the regular visit of Kate and Mom bringing smiles and fruit (and prunes, prune juice, prune extract and anything that had seen a prune in the production process!) and news for beyond the ward, buoying the spirits which had begun to flag by the third day in. Welcome visits were form Nick and Lottie and on Monday form the Paella King himself, Nicolas Friedman, all the way from London. Sally Wagner made it to the ward with lots of news and a reminder that whirlwinds move fast and leave a lot of dust behind them! Who can but feel energised by the presence of Sally the human dynamo! Thanks Sally by the time I saw you again with Marcel I was full of ideas for the New Year as you heard!

The first three days were plagued by the additional malaise of double doses of anaesthetic and pain killers. This had the effect of scrambling the brain in a most unpleasant way. Normal thought functions seemed to be happening but anything more than simple conversation and quiet reflection was met with a complete inability to focus the mind. As a result I left the three books I’d taken to enjoy reading, while being waited on hand and foot for 5 days (if only), in the bag I’d brought them in. I could not manage more than a short caption in a tabloid newspaper and still have no memory of what I discovered in these. But fret not dear reader; all is not lost, because I resorted to movies! I ploughed through two series of Lost [if you’ll pardon the pun] and two series of The Sopranos on my IPod - usually during the small hours of the morning when the general buzz on the ward and the combined effects of drug induced haze, discomfort and nurses chatter kept sleep out of my reach.

Then there was the much mooted trial of constipation which was apparently also related to the barrage of drugs and pain killers. Had I known that Morphine, such a splendid usurper of pain and discomfort, would result in a complete inability do the most natural bodily functions I might have opted for a little less relief in the long run! But enough has been said about bowl movements on the blog already I think! Suffice to say that it ended with every preparation know to man including Nurse Breda’s personal favourite, “ the Stick of Gelignite” (Enema) and a lot of very labour like shoving and grunting between 3 and 9am on the last morning in hospital. Please God never again!

Nausea was another treat and while I managed to avoid the end result on all but one occasion, it made getting anything into the furnace a time consuming and delicate job. Out foxing a tempestuous stomach is not easy and when it did eventually erupt on a very lava like combination of oranges and paw paw, spraying the bed linen and filling several bowls designed for the purpose, it ended in a muttered apology from Nurse Breda moments before she administered the horse kick of an intramuscular jab in the thigh. Expletives flowed freely and unavoidably for several seconds and the images of several grinning lions passed through my mind as they chorused happily in my memory – “That’s for all those darts punk – nice isn’t it!”.

And so we are now both home and happier for it my dear brother and I. We are content to be seated, as close to reclining as possible, and receive our guests as a brace of royals upon the couches of the Lodge on Chilworth Farm. Kate and Mom and Dale produce an endless supply of tea and cake and luncheons and treats which make the bathroom scale oscillate daily between extremes of water retented maxima and micturated minima. Christmas morning approaches with excited speculation form our trio of happy minors. I am ecstatic with suspense (I know what I am getting and have waited 5 years for it!!!) and keenly anticipating the glee on several faces for which I have planned the kind of treats Santa only dreams of – thanks to Amazon.com and several couriers…

Alas I feel our time on the blog is coming to a close – I may be wrong, but I think with all the success of the surgery behind us and only the long road of recovery and endless monitoring ahead it may become somewhat obsolete in its current form. We shall have to have a poll and see whether others feel the same. Of course there is always the chance that the next big thing takes over and the Zeke and Kate Show goes on to deliver a blow by blow account of the wedding which has been 12 years in the making and now exists only as a date, a venue, a box of un-posted invitations and two pairs of shoes! With May 2 approaching at the speed of time, it is very likely there will be opportunity for spasms of text as it all comes together. For now we’ll have to see what Christmas delivers in newsworthy comment and take it from there.

One more time I thank you all for your support in the recent past, so intense as to be almost overwhelming. We feel reconnected with our family all over the globe and have buzzed excitedly with old friends and new and feel extremely privileged to have had you all so close to us. A thousand thousand thanks for that!

ZekeandKate