The operation and the hospital--and after!

I’m back and it’s done and dusted. Thank God. Yes, I did have last minute thoughts about the whole process, my reasons for embarking on this journey. I thought about what had led up to the necessity of having the gastric sleeve and it was a no brainer. Simply put----for me it was either do this or face up to the strong possibility of having along slow demise with lots of complications. I am who I am and this way is the best for me---simple---end of discussion!           

We packed my bag and headed for the hospital----the Ascot. Remember I have to pay for this (with a little help from my insurance) because the free public system says I am too old but don’t accept that by doing it they would save much more money down the line with the complications of a ‘fattening’ New Zealand population.

We arrived early, a mistake on my part. Actually they didn’t mind as they had to put me through quite a lot of questions and kept getting interrupted. I changed into a backwards facing blue gown (see the pictures) and was placed in a very comfortable bed with lots of warm bubbly stuff over me with pulsating wrappers on my legs. I relaxed into the procedure and the surgeon and anaesthetist came to see me (I think?) From the point that he put a needle into me----it all happened and I woke up in a recovery ward. I remember vaguely calling someone ‘Vladimir’ and asking to stay there because the people looked nice and friendly. God knows what else I said, but the nurses who took me to my nice little private room overlooking the racecourse had some wry smiles on their faces. They said I had asked why Perdy couldn’t stay with me.

I was visited by the surgeon once I had settled onto my bed in the room and he told me that everything went well and that I did not have a hiatus hernia. From then on for the next 36 hours it was all about getting me ready to leave. The nurses were lovely and yes, I did have my favourites. I was encouraged to get onto my feet almost immediately so I made it a habit to wander around the floor, regularly getting lost and needing direction back to my lovely room.

The operation took place at 3 pm on Thursday and I spent the rest of that day, taking medication, having my blood pressure taken every so often and having blood sugar tests. They immediately said that I know longer needed my drugs for diabetes and that the blood pressure pills will be lowered very soon.

Guess what---I was not hungry in the slightest. I heard the ladies delivering what seemed like very nice food to other rooms. I was encouraged to drink (sip) about one and a half litres of water. I managed that quite well. That night I was up a bit and had to sleep almost sitting up. I eventually got to sleep and morning came soon enough.

Friday was more of the same. Medication, injections for clotting and God knows what else. I was comfortable though. Lunch came but it was almost inedible for me. Somehow they brought a creamy chicken soup and yogurt. They said, ‘just sip what you can.’ No way could I eat that soup, but I managed a tiny bit of the yogurt without any dire results.  More medication and wandering around the floor. More smiles as I got lost yet again, but the walking did me good. They had discarded the stockings that were meant to prevent clotting and also the machine that pumped all night to inflate something wrapped around my legs. Actually, several times in the night I thought that Perdy was in bed. It felt like her little body moving against my legs, just like she does at home. Dinner was the same and they made the same mistake. Stuff that soup. I ate the yogurt.

Friday morning arrived and more of the same but the only difference was that I was due to leave. The surgeon visited again and told me how well I had done. Janice (my sister) came and after receiving my final instructions I was let lose. I had a wonderful surprise when I got home. The bedroom looked fantastic. It was clean and dusted and de-cluttered. Lovely!

Now, I am going for a walk around the mall. That is what I must do---be active within sensible parameters. Perdy will get a walk later with Rio. I can take her tomorrow.

Wow---all this in 48 hours. Things have changed eh. Now I look forward to making a speedy recovery. Thanks to all of you for your encouragement and kind thoughts. Lots of love

Neil

 

after Optifast Lost about 12 KGS)

My legs were continually pumped to help with circulation.

There are 5 holes (just 4 visible) where they 'went in.'  Yeah In know---ugly sight!

That bed was quite good, actually.

The day after tomorrow will be a new dawn!

Yeah that sucks as a header, I know. Tonight I had real food, the kind that I will make a permanent part of my life, albeit  in small quantities. I had steamed fish with a scattering of tasty julienned vegetables. The taste was boosted with the addition of soy sauce, some sesame oil and chillies. If that is my future or at least an example of it, I shall be happy enough. With my love of exploring ethnic food choices, I think there will still be a place for me to visit my favourite food halls.
I am ready for tomorrow. I shall get up, have a light breakfast and take Perdy for her walk down at the 'bay.' We shall spend about 40 minutes there before we come home and get ready for my hospital stay. I shall have a my last fluid at ten and then check into the hospital (The Ascot) by 11.30.
I shall be visited by the surgeon, nurse and anaesthetist before they send me not a drugged out state and do the job. I will wake up in my hotel-like room (remember I have to pay for this----very short-sighted of the government--I shall revisit that in a future blog) and have complete control over any discomfort. Yes, I shall have a little switch that I can activate to receive a burst of opium----yip, you read it correctly---opium. I can't overdose, so don't worry, I will not come out of hospital looking for a back street deal.
Will I be bale to relax in the luxury of my room? Hell no. I will be encouraged to drink two litres of ice water and to move about as much as I can, sporting my very sexy white stockings to prevent the any clots. I will be offered a sleeping pill, in order to escape into a peaceful sleep. aided of course by my good friend, Elle. Oh, Elle is my CPAC machine. Next morning I will breakfast on  a few teaspoons of yoghurt and stewed fruit. Lunch will be equally exciting, but I must earn it. I shall exercise by touring the ward, saying hi to other residents of my fine 'hotel.' Between my exertions, I will be attended to by my dietician, who will instruct me in my future gastronomic adventures, at least for the short term. Then  there will be more exercises and a quick 'pop in' from the surgeon so he can admire the successful results of his labours. I will be looking forward to my visitors, so I must be ready for them. I hope I don't look like 'death warmed up,' but I am prepared for those looks that scream---'why did you do this?' but I think they have a good deal of knowledge about the procedure. Those that don't will probably stay away.
If (and it will) all goes well, I shall be discharged on Saturday morning (NZ time) and my sister and partner will take me home to Perdy. I hope she doesn't jump on me! I'm off to bed now and you will hear from me again late Saturday. May I send a huge thanks to all of you who have sent me messages, via Facebook and  other media. You don't know how much that means to me. Catch ya later!
 

Mr Key forgets---again! But don't get too prissy, Labour.

No doubt Labour will clamour for Mr Key's blood over the latter's latest 'brain fart.' It seems that Mr Key forgot what many would consider an important phone call. The position of head of our 'spy division' is an important  role and any hint of cronyism as the Labour Party claims, is an act to be avoided---by any party.
Before Labour gets too heated they should remember Mr Shearer's 'forgetfulness' re his account in an overseas bank. They should remember that Mr Key made relatively light of the event and even though some would say that Mr Key's omission is more serious, an over reaction on Labour's part will come back and bite them in the 'proverbial.' Yes, we expect Mr Banks to do his usual at every opportunity and then go down in flames with yet another indiscretion, but I would  like to think that the two main leaders would act with a bit more civility. Politics does not have to consist entirely of---'we got ya, now suck on that!' 

70,000 hits but 'feck all results,' as Mrs Brown would say!

Yes, 70,000 hits on my blogs sounds like a hell of a lot, but it simply is not transpiring that I am selling my books. Either, the books are fecked (Mrs Brown has a lot to answer for) or people just don’t read any more. I know that the prices are high and I shall change that. I shall also get them all onto Kindle soon and that will make them a lot cheaper, probably less than $5 each. I want to start processing my Sons of Orpheus series too, but not until I get some cash from sales. I am also re-editing ‘Roskill’ and that should be available in amore ‘teen’s friendly’ format, in other words a bit shorter.

Keep the hits coming and please pass on the link to your ‘circles along with my website. www.authorneilcoleman.com   Thanks for your support.

PS   I would also like to write a book about the process I have been going through re my bariatric surgery (big day tomorrow-----4^th April).

Unbloodybelievable!--I was told I can have cake tonight.

NO----I am not taking the piss. I have had two phone calls tonight; one from my surgeon and the other from the anaesthetist. It seems that my almost 15 KG weight loss on Optifast is indeed good. It has done the trick, by shrinking my liver and that apparently makes the operation via keyhole surgery much safer.

Now, back to the cake. It so happens that there is a lovely birthday cake for my partner, sitting in the refrigerator. I had thought it was out of bounds and had accepted the fact that I would just have a nice cup of tea and go to bed. Hell no. I was told by my anaesthetist THAT I CAN PARTAKE IN A SLICE and a glass of chardonnay!

I shall suffer my last day on Optifast tomorrow (although I don’t need to be as strict). I have ‘done the job’ and after the operation, my system will only tolerate small amounts of ‘liquidized’ food for about three weeks, then it will be very small portions of almost normal food for the rest of my life. That’s fine with me, as I reckon I have well and truly had my share of food and booze for several lifetimes. Just think of the money I will save and be able to divert to other things like, ‘debt reduction’ and possibly, some overdue travel.

 I am looking forward to my new life and will continue my blogs about how it goes. Maybe I shall put together a book at some stage to join the other three. Maybe it will even sell!

Perdy the monster destroyer.

Perdy, the 'destroyer.'!

 

 

Every so often I buy a ‘friend’ for Perdy. I suppose this is because I leave her at home when I go to work and sometimes she has to stay behind if I am going to a place where she is not welcome, like the supermarket, restaurant (she comes to many cafes though) or bank. What I am saying that I love to take her and I enjoy her outrages antics at the beach or park and then the total contrast as she sits quietly under the table at the café, surveying the world as it glides past.

Today I brought her a little green crocodile that squeaks in the most delightful way when pressed or bitten, when between the jaws of the afore mentioned dog. We unpacked the groceries and tossed her ‘green friend to her on the grass. We immediately heard the squeaky cry of the beastie as she was attacked by Perdy. By the time we have packed away our purchases, the sound had diminished to that of an ‘asthmatic’ shadow of its former self. Not only that, but the jaws of the crocodile resembled those on one that had been run over by a train.

Poor crocodile-----what a short life you have had. Well, Perdy; that’s it for this week. I think I shall get you the real thing and see how you go with that; like the one in the fish pond. Try that for size!

My cat has 'run' away---why oh why, I asked my Jack Russell.

The header is not a frivolous statement or meant to be demeaning in any way to my cat, Jasmine. I am actually saddened by the fact that she doesn’t even sneak in the back door at night to have her food, despite the fact that I shield the area from Perdy, the Jack Russell who no doubt has made her peaceful life a thing of the past.

For about 18 months, the two pets coexisted; much like the old Soviet Union did with the USA. Both had the capacity to maim or kill---well OK, that is a bit rich, but they kind of got on. I would often see them late at night asleep on the couch, a few feet from one another.

Enter stage right a neighbour who has his elderly Mum living with him. It seems that Jasmine started to visit them and at first that was fine with me. After all, the dear old lady loved to see Jasmine I (who is a very pretty girl) in her yard as she watched the birds (that’s Jasmine watching) and occasionally caught one. Jasmine started to spend more and more time in ‘their yard,’ and I am quite sure they fed her little ‘titbits’ from time to time.

Finally they invited her inside their home and said to me---‘Oh, we don’t feed her and we send her home at night.’ Gradually Jasmine became a bit of a fixture in their home and was soon spending most of the day there, ensconced like some royal personage. They admitted that they fed her and that she ‘often demanded to be let in from about 5 each morning and was not ‘sent’ home until late at night.

What was Perdy’s reaction?  Well of course she started to see Jasmine as a ‘visitor’ and she started to ‘inspect’ Jasmine when she occasionally came home during the day. This of course coincided with me being at work and little lonely, Perdy wanted to ‘play;’ playing in Jack Russell terminology means chasing the crap out of anything that dares to move.

Thus began the final movement of this sad ‘opera.’ Perdy increasingly saw Jasmine as an unwanted and very boring visitor. Jasmine became fearful of the unwanted attention and set up residence on a more permanent basis. My partner and I became a little reticent about paying vet fees and de-fleeing jasmine. I heard the afore mentioned neighbour claiming that he had to ‘flee-bomb his home.’

Hell, what could we do? Things are now so strained between jasmine and us that she completely ignores us and we can no longer catch her in order to de-flee her.

Despite my stunningly unfeeling description of the defunct relationship that exists between Jasmine and us, do not mistake that for one that lacks feeling. We are both deeply grief-stricken. We will get through this in the knowledge that ‘you can’t trust a cat,’ especially if you have a jack Russell and conniving neighbours in the deadly cocktail.

Go well Jasmine, but please send us a glance as you sneak along outside our fence. Perdy misses you too, in her own special way.

Mmmmm---- maybe we shall get a second Jack Russell!