After a night of blissful sleep deprivation, I woke up. It was a Saturday, and the weekend brought a very different feel to the ward. The staff were thinner on the ground, and the flurry of activity brought by elective surgeries was largely absent. It was a relaxed environment, despite a little commotion from the bank of four beds next door, or next door but one.
I think it's worth bringing you up to speed about the ward I was on. This was a ward that dealt with patients who had neurological issues. These varied from brain tumour removals and spinal surgeries to piecing people back together after motorcycle accidents and other traumatic brain injuries. My set of four beds had a real feel of 'One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest', not helped by the fact that the people in the beds adjacent to me looked like the Indian and the old guy with glasses. At one stage in the course of the morning, from an adjoining area, I heard a nurse shouting, "Put your trousers back on...stop messing about. I know you're not having a seizure. Just put them back...PUT YOUR TROUSERS BACK ON." I stifled a laugh, and settled for a giggle. I didn't find it funny that there were clearly people on this ward who had much more serious issues than me, but the imagery this outburst conjured up was pretty amusing.
Despite a disturbed night, I felt much livelier. I think my brain was starting to relax, and the effects of the anaesthetic were now all but worn off. I was thinking clearly, and excited about starting my recovery. I was visited by a nurse who wanted to remove my catheter. This was fine by me, as it was the last remaining shackle tethering me to the bed. I had to look away as the process was carried out, as I'm sure any man would. We are talking about a part of the anatomy reserved exclusively for outward movement, and whereas this was going to involve outward movement, it was that of a foreign object which looked far to big to be where it was. This is the one and only time I have had this misfortune of catheterisation, and removal of it was uncomfortable, but no worse.
This was it. My shackles were removed, and I now had the chance to test my feet out. I didn't particularly want to go anywhere, but I knew the time would come where I had to go to the loo, so it seemed as good a time as any. I had slept at the forty-five degrees I had been put at, and it took an unusual amount of effort to get myself up to ninety degrees. I sat for a moment as my body righted itself. I hadn't moved much for a while, so this took a little while as my blood re-distributed itself around my body. I swung my legs carefully round to my left, and they dangled over the edge of the bed. My legs hung heavy, and I weighed up their ability to take my weight after the ordeal of the previous day. What could possibly go wrong?! I had a bed to keel over onto, so took a leap of faith...well, in reality, more of a drop, and lowered my feet to the floor. After a moment of balancing, and another trying to decide if I'd had a foot transplant while in surgery, I was upright and unsupported. It felt good, but it was also a lot of effort. I sat my self down and smiled to myself. That was the first step on the comeback trail.
In the hours that followed, my objection to peeing into a cardboard bottle took over. As my mug of standard issue tea worked its way through my system, it was time to get on my feet again. I could see the toilet from where I was positioned in the ward, and was about twenty yards away. I pressed my buzzer to summon some assistance, and got back on my feet. I'd never experienced mobility issues before, but needed every ounce of assistance the nurse gave me to get to the toilet. She supported me by my arm, and walked with me -every tiny step. I assured her that I would be ok in the cubicle on my own, and she waited patiently for me to do the necessary. I emerged, and was helped back to my bed.
Having got back into bed, I quietly contemplated how much we take for granted. I'd never experienced the inability to walk unaided for twenty yards to use the toilet. My boundaries had always been self-imposed, or imposed by those in positions of authority. I contemplated how much worse this could have turned out, and for the first time, realised just how fortunate I was. I had escaped with my independence intact, I would just have to put some work in to get it back. I had never pondered my own fragility before, nor had I ever realised my own resilience or mental fortitude. My thoughts wandered, and the next question was, how long will it be before I can get out of here?
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