Second day

Before first light I decide the plan for today is to lie very, very still, press the pain relief button from time to time and repeat parrot-like my name and date of birth, every time yet another drug needs to be administered.

This is a short-lived plan; it lasts until the food and drink arrive and the realisation dawns that I might need to engage in some other activity apart from pressing the pain control button. I might have to attempt to sit up in the bed.  At this early stage I haven’t yet mastered the mechanics of the raising and lowering of the bed and the bedhead.  I will need to acquire some bed mechanics knowledge, or the art of drinking from a glass of water, with or without a straw, and not pouring it all over the bed, will be but a dream.

The first big surprise of the day is the constant parade of people who appear at my bedside; first is the anaesthetist who interviewed me yesterday.  Yes, the young, dark, handsome one.  He is followed by Assistant Surgeon Jones and her note-taking offsider, the lovely Rangi.

 Next is the pharmacist and hot on her heels, the physiotherapist; the latter attempts to give me handy tips on how to sit up in bed, how to avoid slipping down to the end of the bed and how best to attempt the business of getting out of bed.  There is no cossetting of patients; if you are conscious and reasonably mobile then out of bed you will get.

And get out of bed I do; it is no easy task.  Imagine a very large walrus lying on its back, taking in the sunshine on a sandy beach; for whatever reason it needs to turn over and position itself to make a get-a-way.  This is difficult business for a walrus; a lot of weight has to be manoeuvered about and the walrus will make several slow and very awkward attempts before it achieves its goal. Have a search on You-Tube and it will give you a very clear understanding of what getting out of bed entailed for me.  Not a pretty sight I can assure you.

And that is just the beginning of the exercise; what follows is trailing all the attachments around the bed and finally making it to the chair.  All this entails about twenty steps; by the time I flop unceremoniously into the chair I feel as if I have walked twenty kilometers.

The real purpose of the move from bed to chair, watched over by the attendant nurse, is to get the patient started on the coughing exercises torture; this is important to remove congestion from the lungs and prevent pneumonia.  Deep breathing and coughing will become a regular part of each day.

According to informed and reliable sources the following excerpt is the best guide to a successful coughing exercise:

Coughing exercises:

The most comfortable position in which to cough is sitting upright.  Hold a pillow or rolled-up blanket against your stitches or staples.  This may make coughing easier.  When you cough, relax your neck and shoulders. Cough from your belly, not from your throat.  Bending your knees may also make coughing more comfortable.  Cough two or three times, then rest.  Do not be afraid to cough. Your incision is firmly held together by stitches or staples.

In theory I'm sure the above paragraph has some merit, however I can tell you this, pillow or no pillow, it damn well hurts.  The best I could manage today were tiny, kitten-like throat coughs, totally unproductive, painful and exhausting.

I have well and truly failed the coughing exercise test.  I am going to be in big trouble with A/S Jones when she arrives for the next round of lung-listening.