Kidney donation, part 14

It's now operation day plus 8.

My admission into hospital last Monday was not without problems. I never got the call to go in, as promised, and instead ended up researching the correct ward on the internet and phoning them direct, twice, before they agreed I could go in. On arrival Chrissie and I were left, out of sight, in a day room for 45 mins before I was taken to my bed. Having now spent four days there I can begin to appreciate the understaffing on wards and why I wasn't attended to straight away.

The operation, early on Tuesday,was successful, though I wasn't quite prepared for how rough I would feel once I came round. There is proper focus on the statistical risks of the operation but it would probably come over quite negatively if you were told just how shit you'd feel. However, that lasted only for a day or so before I began to feel a bit better. To be fair it was mostly discomfort, rather than pain.

I'd awoken with a drip into my left hand for self-administered morphine, a catheter to allow draining of urine, a drain from one of the wounds in my tummy and a mask providing oxygen. Phew!

All of these were removed on Wednesday and I was able to get up and go to the loo. Laxatives helped restore my bowel movements and I began wandering up and down the corridor on Thursday, glad of the feeling of exercise. My appetite was poor though. I managed only a small amount of food at each meal.

Each day prior to Friday I was visited by my transplant surgeon, a different surgeon stopped by on Friday. Every day I saw a member of the transplant coordination team, who are all specialist nurses, and Dr.Anna, my researcher for the follow up I'd agreed to. All of this made me feel very well supported. I referred earlier to understaffing. None of this being a criticism of any individual. My experience was that all NHS staff work hard in strained circumstances. There's lots of waiting though for stuff to be done and it was nice that the transplant coordination nurses and Dr.Anna often stepped in to perform tasks in lieu of ward staff, for which I was very grateful.

On Friday morning I was told I'd probably be able to go home but there then followed a long day of waiting for a blood test result, analysis by the ward doctor and waiting for medications to take home. As a result, I eventually left with Chrissie at around 7:45pm.

Every day since coming home I've managed a short walk through our village. Slowly at first. Yesterday I walked around a mile and a half. This is allowed, walking being self-limiting. I'm not allowed to carry a rucsac, nor to cycle until I've seen my surgeon in about 3 weeks from now.

Yesterday Dr.Anna picked me up and drove me back to MRI for another mri scan, blood and urine tests, this being part of the post op research. Anna is very kind and gave me lots of encouragement.

Today, all my pain has pretty much gone. I took only two paracetomol yesterday morning. My appetite's still not good. Something's affecting my taste buds. Coffee, which I love, tastes crap as did the one beer I tried on Saturday night. Bleurgh! I'm not enjoying my home made bread either. 

My main sensation is weariness. I'm in bed by 9pm but managed 10pm last night, after episode 3 of Shetland, which I'd been looking forward to.

Forgive my grumblings. I'm just trying to give an honest picture, particularly for readers who might be taking a similar journey. In short, I've survived and am improving every day.  Being discharged three days after the op gives a better technical answer as to how well I am. This unseasonal weather is helping too, making my wanders through the village a delight.

But, more important than all the above, is my friend Jamie. I can't speak in detail of how he is, though we're in regular contact, but his operation was a success. He was expected to be in hospital for two to three weeks following the op but he went home yesterday, after just seven days! My/his kidney appears to be working well but he has to return to a clinic on Friday and again each week to check how things are going and, critically, for any signs of rejection. But, Jamie is off dialysis...for the first time in around 12 months. I'm very pleased.

Since coming home I've cried often, usually as a result of seeing Jamie's progress. My emotions are heightened right now, but I do feel positive for both myself and Jamie.

As always, I wish Jamie well.

And God bless Chrissie who is pandering to my every need at the moment.

I'll finish with some positive images of the last few days, when I've been out and about and visited by our precious Noah. The Sunshine Squad (aka Pebbles and Islay) are never far from my side, oozing healing love from every pore.

To read the whole story go to my kidney donation page which you can access on the left side of this blog.