First few days

It has been so long since I sat down (yeah ok not that long since I sat down, obviously) to write and it has been driving me mad! I started writing this post months ago, but life has continued to get in my way! I am determined to finish this one, because I have so, so many things to fill you all in on!  So, we start again, the day we had our little boy....

We had made it through the pregnancy and birth and had our baby boy. We had finally been left to get some sleep about 5am. Before mum left, she mentioned that my younger sister was about to start her shift, if we wanted to call and tell her. I'd been keeping my siblings updated throughout the past two days and was keen to tell them the news. Unfortunately for poor Becca, mum had forgotten it was her day off, but for some reason she didn't mind being woken up. She was very surprised to find out we'd had a boy though- she'd been so sure we were having a girl!

Tim and I decided before we went to sleep that we would call our siblings once we woke up, but the only visitors allowed that day would be our parents. We were running off only a few hours’ sleep after two days of labour. Poor Tim had actually slept on one of the labour beds when we got back to the ward, probably the only man to ever do so. Any woman who's ever spent any time on one of those can tell you they are not designed for sleeping on! As I woke up, I automatically went to feel my belly for bub, before I woke up and remembered he was now across the room! (To be honest I did that a few times over the first day or two)!

I was still hooked up to the epidural and drip at this stage. After the caesarean, I was put on antibiotics as a precautionary measure. I was only having normal levels of blood loss by now, but my haemoglobin was down to 72, so I needed a blood transfusion. I wasn't in any danger, but having one would really help with my recovery, my energy levels and milk production. The morning was spent feeding (I was starting to feel a bit more confident as we got a bit of practice in), cuddling, changing nappies (not me, this was all up to Tim for the first few days), napping and with the regular checks from the midwives. Late morning, we had visits from the grandparents, all very excited about their new grandson.

 

They left my epidural hooked up for the first 24 hours for pain relief and I was given antibiotic via my IV as a precaution after surgery. As a result, I would remain bed bound until the next day. In between our napping and feeding, Tim and I threw names about. At least now, we could focus on just the boy names! And so, we settled on.... drum roll please.... William Alexander! 

The hospital was very good in helping to make things as accessible for me as they could. They had borrowed a cot from the neonatal unit, with a drop-down side, so I could get William in and out myself, since the plastic buckets they usually use aren't any good for me.

Tim stayed with me for the first two nights on the ward, and he would get up to change bub, to get him up for me to feed. The second day I was finally unhooked from all my various needles, but they indwelling catheter was left for a few days, to save me getting up to go to the toilet. I guess they decided I had enough things going on already. They tell you that you will bleed after having a baby, but my god, do you bleed! No matter how they try to prepare you for it... That first shower is such hard work, but so good at the same time! My first few transfers I needed a bit of help from Tim, since I'd just spend three days in bed running a marathon!

By this stage, I'd also had a couple of days off my usual bowel routine, since I didn't think it was a smart idea to take my laxatives while I was in labour. So, once he was born, I took a dose to get things started again. I'd had some constipation throughout my pregnancy and it ended up taking a couple of weeks for things to settle down properly again. I also found that I had to change the way I tried to move things along, to make sure I didn't pull at my stiches. I found that I'd get stomach contractions if I moved in a way that 'hurt'. 

Over the first few days, I spent quite a bit of time with the lactation consultants. This wasn't because there was anything wrong, but more, since I can't feel my nipples properly, to make sure I knew what other signs to look for to make sure he was feeding properly. William was drinking slowly, but for good stretches of time. Before I left the hospital, we had a play around with feeding positions in bed and also with using a lactation pillow, to help me support him. 

At his 24 hour check he passed all his checks. Bowels worked well all over the nurses checking him out! They also did a hearing test, where they put a little cap on their head and play noises and see how their brain reacts, which he passed without any issue. 

While William was going really well, I still had very low haemoglobin levels, at around 70, so it was determined I needed either an iron infusion, or a blood transfusion. Either way, I needed a new cannula. Unimpressed is an understatement!  

After the nurse missed twice, they brought in Dr Harry, one of the anaesthetists (who looked like a marine off some American army crime drama. We got off to a bit of a rocky start. I questioned his ability to hit my veins, he missed a few times, Tim suggested he might need to try somewhere else, further bruising his ego. But you know what, we got past that and in the end, we were all having a good laugh together. But after 90 minutes and attempts on 5 different sites, including 2 in my foot with the help of the ultrasound machine, he went home for the night. 

The next day we got lucky, after he came in with local anaesthetic and the ultrasound machine again. The poor guy had had to go home for a drink the night before, after I had nearly made him cry. So, they set me up for my blood transfusion and everything was going well. Until it wasn't. My arm started aching a bit, then it started to hurt. The nurse gave me a heat pack, but that wasn't cutting it. I had awful pain in my shoulder and my wrist and the nurse wasn't coming back quick enough. So, after a week of telling Tim to stop playing with the machines, I had him turn it off. Tim was standing there rubbing my shoulder and my wrist at the same time, trying to take away some of the pain. When the doctor came in, she flushed the line and told me there was nothing wrong. I disagreed. In the end, it was already going in as slow as possible and our only options were to keep going, or turn it off. I had only got about a third of a dose so far, and they were talking about how I would potentially need two doses. Dr Harry had left with implicit instructions, "Do not let them take it out until they have triple checked they are 100% done!" So, we tried to keep going, but within minutes, my pain levels were as bad as they had been, so we stopped. They took it out.

It turned out, I'd been right, that something was wrong. A few days later, this is what my arm looked like:

 

The vein had broken down and the pain was from the blood going into the flesh in my arm, instead of my bloodstream. When Dr D, my regular doctor saw it, she was furious! 

 By about day three, my milk had come in. For those of you who haven't experienced this, your boobs get several cup sizes bigger, basically overnight. It's not particularly pleasant. Your milk also starts to 'let down', so squirt everywhere totally out of control. This is why we have breast pads. It turns out, when this is about to happen, your boobs go all numb. I didn't know this. So, I was lying in bed feeding and all of a sudden, my chest is tingling and I'm wondering if this is some crazy side effect of I don't even know what!! After it happened a few times, I made the connection, but it did have me worried for a bit! It turns out lots of things can set it off. Babies crying, warmth (so the shower), thinking about your baby.... It calms down after a few weeks, or months. Oh, and you look like you've had a boob job. They are the definition of perky. 

Over the first few days, everything is crazy. I have nurses coming and going all the time. They want to know how often he feeds and how long, how many wet and dirty nappies he has had, have I had any bowel motions (they ask this off all new mums, not just the paras). 

Tim has two nights at home. William is very unsettled both nights (also common around the time your milk comes in) and I decide he is staying the next night whether he wants to or not. There is a very noisy baby up the hall that cries a lot. And when it does, it sounds just like a peacock! I go from sympathy for the parents, to sympathy for me very fast!! And I have been lucky enough to score a room for myself, since they decided it would be kind of cramped with a wheelchair if I was sharing.  The other really good thing about this is that Time can sleep in the other bed when he stays. 

At four days, one of the doctors says I can go home. I've never seen her before, so I decide to wait until Dr D has given me her check of approval. This is also only one day after the transfusion disaster. You know, the one where my haemoglobin levers were so low they had to give me a transfusion... It would be day 8 by the time she sent me home.

William lost 188g in his first couple of days, which was about 5% of his body weight. Generally, they lose up to 10%, so they were happy with that. And by a week he was about 100g over his birth weight again. 

One of the things I'd been worried about with a caesarean, was how I would go recovering. As it turned out, I went really well! After a week, my dressing was off and the surface had healed. Within a couple of weeks, I was no longer getting any spasms, indicating internal pain. I was only looking at my scar a few days ago and thinking how well I've healed. Almost 11 months later you can only find it if you're looking for it. 

Home at last!

Alright, I'm going to leave it there for today. I've cut out so much from this post so as not to bore you, but as always, questions are more than welcome! I promise I won't leave it so long for the next one! Until then!

The wait is over! (40 weeks part 2)

So, where were we? Tim had managed to calm me down by the time they were ready to take me into theatre, but it didn't take much to set me off again. Someone, probably an anaesthetist, had gone over what was going to happen. I already knew that Tim would be kicked out if I needed a general anaesthetic for any reason, but I really didn't need to be reminded of that right then... Then they wheeled me into the theatre.

Any control I had over my emotions was completely lost then. It's this huge big stark white room, full of people and various machines, with huge overhead lights. Now I'm all for women choosing what works for them when it comes to giving birth (and most other things), but at that moment, I could not for the life of me understand why anyone would choose to have a caesarean. Even with Tim there, with a doctor I knew and trusted, I was so scared. (I also recall thinking something about how maybe it was a good thing they wouldn't let me stay awake like I'd asked when they operated on my arm). I was still crying. They were still asking if I was alright. I knew I'd be fine once the baby was out, but I had to just focus on getting there first.

I knew that it wouldn't take them long to get bub out, that most of the time in theatre was them putting me back together, so I just tried to concentrate on listening for the cry. They transferred me onto the theatre table, using the hover mat. Someone said something about how they charge you for this kind of thing at the show. There was a bit of prep stuff going on, as I listened to what Dr D was saying. Tim was given a stool near me head, so neither one of us could see anything. At this stage, I think that was probably a good thing. I know I kept looking at the clock.

40 weeks + 2

About midnight, Dr D told me that it was about to feel like someone was doing the dishes in my belly. That is a pretty accurate description. After a minute or so, the dishes were done. The screen was dropped and a purple, squishy baby boy, covered in goop, was held up. The first thing I said? "His hands are too big!" He didn't look like a newborn! He was passed over the screen and put on my chest, so I could hold him. I was still crying, but now it was just utter relief. My smile wasn't forced anymore.

Covered in goop!

I had him there for about 5 minutes, before I felt like I was going to be sick, an unfortunate but common response to having a baby. Tim took bub for me as I lay there trying not to be sick. I was given something to stop me feeling sick, which was pretty effective. Unfortunately at the same time, Tim also got really light headed as he overheated. So the baby was passed to a midwife and he lay down on the floor before he passed out! After a few minutes, he'd recovered enough to get up and help cut the cord and dry off and dress the baby.

Tim cutting the cord

As Tim was overheating, I was feeling really, really cold!! I'd lost about 800ml of blood and was starting to go into shock. They got me a clean, dry gown and some warm blankets but it didn't feel like it had made any difference.

Guess who he got his big hands from?

About 40 minutes after I went into theatre, I was all back together and being taken into recovery. Dr D had made sure to reinforce my stitches and she had used a longer lasting suture material for my internal stitches. She wanted to give my body the best chance of healing well, since there are certain movements I just can't get around, like transfers.
Usually you are kept in recovery about 30 minutes, but I wasn't that straight forward. My blood pressure was very low, due to my blood loss. I was freezing cold, shivering and teeth chatting constantly, so they wrapped me up with a hot air blanket, set at 35 degrees, to try and warm me up. I was constantly drifting off to sleep. The past 32+ hours had caught up to me and I couldn't stay awake. Apparently it had been harder on me that it had felt at the time.

At my last appointment with Dr D before my first induction attempt, she'd said my haemoglobin levels would be ok if I only lost 100-200ml of blood. Since I'd lost four times that, it was a bit of a concern. I was in and out of it a lot in recovery, but I remember them trying to get a second canular in my other hand. As I've said before, I don't have good veins. So for them to be trying to canulate me after everything I'd just been through, was never going to work. I was awake enough to tell them I didn't want them to, but not enough to really put my foot down, so to speak. Two anaesthetists had several attempts at my hand before Tim convinced them to try my foot. They weren't going to get that either, but at least it wasn't hurting me. It also allowed me to get my cold arm back in the warm bed. Sure enough, they couldn't get a canular in, but they did manage to get enough blood for a blood test.

Throughout all this I was really really thirsty, but I wasn't allowed to drink anything. The most I was allowed was ice chips, which I ate as fast as they would give them to me. It didn't do much to help me warm up though. What I would have given for a hot chocolate...
At some stage, Tim asked me if I would like to hold the baby again. I told him I thought I could do that, and then promptly fell back asleep! When I woke up again, not only was the baby in bed beside me, but Tim and the midwife had managed to express some milk and get him feeding! So I missed the start of his first feed, but that was ok. Despite the fact I kept falling asleep, I found that the first thought each time I woke up was whether the baby was still ok. I was worried he'd suffocate or overheat, since I knew the bed was hot to try and warm me up, but he was ok. I'm guessing the midwife was keeping a pretty close eye on us, since that was why she was there!
I was also aware that mum was upstairs and we had definitely been longer than half an hour in recovery. I found out later that Tim had messaged her and let her know I was ok, which was really good, since I'd been worried about her not knowing, but couldn't wake up enough to do anything about it!
By 3am, they were satisfied my bleeding had eased and I was allowed to go back to the labour ward. I'd been in recovery over 2 hours. Because I was still on the epidural, I would be kept on the labour ward where they could monitor my recovery closely.

Once we finally got back to the labour ward, I was very happy to see mum. There would be a lot happening for a couple of hour’s still, so I really appreciated having her there to help and just to give me a cuddle. It had been a rough night. There were doctors, midwives, nurses and anaesthetists coming and going over the next couple of hours. I was actually awake for bubs second feed, which mum helped me with, since I'd missed out on a lesson with the midwife earlier. Poor Tim was almost as tired as me and had a power nap in the armchair in between people coming and going. The surgery wasn't much fun for me, but it was all a bit scary for him too, especially considering everything that happened afterwards. It was a lot quieter in the labour ward though and we had got away from bright white rooms, which made me feel a lot more relaxed. I'd also finally warmed up enough that I could start to take off some of the mountain of blankets I was covered in. We had arranged with the nursery to borrow one of their cots, so that was ready for us too. 

And so, the final mystery for the night, just how big was this baby? He weighed in at 4.18kg, or 9lb 4oz, so he was pretty heavy. He was 55cm long, so a little longer than average. His head though... A newborns average head size is 35cm. They triple measured his and it was definitely 38.5cm! So while it would have been nice if he'd arrived as planned, it probably wasn't such a bad thing I ended up with a caesarean. A baby that size I could just as likely ended up in theatre anyway and it probably wouldn't have been quite so straight forward.

Both ready for a nap!

Next time on para pregnancy, what did we name him?

40 weeks

This post has been rather a while coming now! As you may have guessed, I've been busy having a baby, so I haven't had much time to write. There has been so much going on, so much I want to talk about, that it's been a mission simply writing notes for myself. To keep things from getting too out of control, I'm going to break things down a bit. So let's start as I arrived at the hospital...

40 Weeks

It's a truly strange feeling to be going into hospital knowing that you won't be leaving without having given birth to the child you've been carrying for the past nine months. It's one of those things that the movies always depict as a messy and spontaneous event. Sometimes though, there is somewhat more planning and scheduling involved. I was admitted to hospital at 40 weeks exactly to be induced. After the previous weeks attempt, we knew that I was unlikely to have a reaction to the hormone they were using, so after a quick internal examination, Dr D put some prostins gel on my cervix, to help it prepare for baby's departure. The head was nicely down and my cervix was looking better after another week waiting, though it was still long. This kid was being served an eviction notice!

After the gel was inserted, I was kept on the CTG (cardiotocograph) to monitor bubs heartbeat, to insure he/she didn't get too stressed as well as any contractions I might be having. It didn't take them long to start at all. By the time this all happened, it was about 3pm, with a progress report scheduled for 9pm, when more gel would be inserted if it was needed. Baby was doing well and I was having contractions about ten minutes apart, strong enough that I could feel some of them, but really not causing me any sort of discomfort.

The dinner the hospital gave me really wasn't looking that appealing, so Tim headed down the road and got us some burgers for tea. Turns out that wasn't such a great idea. I'd read so many times about only eating small light meals in early labour, but it didn't actually occur to me that what I was in was early labour. Not until after I went to get ready for bed and threw said burger up again.
At my nine o'clock check, I was given another internal exam and found to be 3cm dilated already! This was great progress! My cervix had shortened up to only 1/2 cm long (previously 4-5cm) as well, so things were looking good. So good that instead of inserting more gel, the doctor did a stretch and sweep instead. This is where they use a finger to separate the membrane from the cervix, reportedly somewhat uncomfortable. I'd believe that, because even though I couldn't feel it, I could feel my stomach and legs spasming as they do when they really don't like something. By this stage I was up to 2-3 contractions over a ten minute period and ready to have my waters broken in the morning, if they hadn't already done so by themselves.

By 10.30 pm my contractions were close and regular enough that I was moved to the labour ward so we were ready for things to get started. I was put back on the CTG for half an hour and had a catheter and canular put in, ready for labour.  
Not long after this I had someone from the anaesthetics team come talk to me about an epidural. My thoughts on an epidural were similar to my thoughts on a caesarean section. If I need one, fine, but give me a chance to try this myself first. The anaesthetist spoke to me about the option of putting in an epidural and setting it up so it was ready, but without actually hooking it up. I was happy with this compromise, but once she had spoken with her boss, they decided that actually, that was pointless. I was told I didn't need to make a decision just yet and since Tim had finally fallen asleep and I didn't want to wake him, (or make that decision alone) I decided to wait until they next checked my progress at 1.

40 weeks + 1 day

At 1am I was given another internal examination and was still 3cm dilated, with my cervix shortened right up. My vital statistics, otherwise known as ob's were being taken hourly, so I really wasn't getting much rest. There was another internal exam at 6am then I was left to get a bit of sleep before we started. I was offered a shower but with so little sleep and a canular in my hand that was just way too much work!

At 9am, Dr D was back to check my progress and get things started. She had been kept updated on my progress throughout the night, even though she was off duty. She broke my waters, using an instrument that closely resembles a crochet hook. Again, I couldn't really feel anything, just a pressure and that discomfort that I get when my stomach muscles protest. By this stage I was losing track of the number of times someone had stuck their hand up my vagina. Maybe 6? They do tell you to check your dignity in at the door....

When you go into labour, your body naturally produces a hormone called oxytocin, which causes the contractions of the uterus and basically pushes the baby most of the way out, until you get to the active stage of labour at the end where you push. Since I hadn't gone into labour spontaneously, I had to be given syntocin, an artificial version of oxytocin. I was started on a dose of 12ml an hour, going up 12ml at a time each hour. They do this gradually so they can get the dose right for each individual and to give you a chance to keep up with the progression, so neither mother nor baby end up too stressed.
Speaking with Dr D, she was happy for me to try without the epidural and see how I went. I was being constantly monitored anyway and we had the anaesthetics team on standby if things started to get out of hand. She was also regularly checking up on me throughout the day.

I had another visit from anaesthetics, this time from the head of the department. I'm not sure if he didn't hear me or just didn't think I was funny when I promised him I wouldn't go walking off if they gave me a walking epidural. This is a low dose epidural that allows you to still walk around during labour, but the walking part isn't an option at my hospital, due to a staff shortage. Walking epidurals require constant supervision due to the increased falls risk. Since I couldn't feel if the epidural was in the right place by the usual measure (loss of sensation and pain), we would have to use other methods to see if it was working. The two main signs would be a drop in my blood pressure and my legs should be very warm to touch as they became hyper vascular. He also assured me that it shouldn't slow down my labour or impair my ability to push. He was very keen to get this started to prevent me from getting any dysreflexia, but I wasn't ready to go ahead with it yet.

Over the next couple of hours I was gradually given a higher dose of syntocin, as well as fluids to make sure I didn't get dehydrated. I was having semi-regular contractions, strong enough that I could feel them, but not really more than occasionally uncomfortable. Certainly not painful in any way.

I sent Tim off to grab a quick lunch with his mum. Just after he left, Dr D stopped in again. By this stage my blood pressure had been slowly rising for a couple of hours. It was still well within normal range, but getting on the high side for me. I had also had the occasional twinges of sharp pain in my head, which I get when my blood pressure rises, a symptom of dysreflexia. Both these things led me to ask Dr D how she felt we were going and if she thought we needed to go ahead with the epidural. Her thoughts were that we would need to be considering it soon. That was enough for me, and I gave her the go ahead to organise it.

Once I said yes, things happened very quickly. One of the anaesthetists came up and talked me through exactly what he was going to do and got me to sit up on the side of the bed. One of the midwives stood in front of me to help brace me and make sure I stayed in the right position to allow the epidural to go straight in. I'd been in a hospital gown since the night before, but they need that out of the way as well to do the epidural, so I was sitting there basically naked in front of several people I'd never met before. Who am I kidding, I was naked! You have to kind of hunch over, so they can get the needle between the vertebrae. Tim wasn't gone very long, but he only arrived back just in time. I was really glad he made it, because I got very nervous just before they went to put it in. And scared. I was pretty sure I was doing the right thing, but I really had no way of knowing. I'd let Tim know I'd given them the go ahead to do the epidural, but in the end I'd made that decision without him and I really wanted to talk to him. I hadn't wanted to have the epidural in the first place, even though I knew it would probably be necessary, so I really didn't want to do it alone.
It turned out to be pretty quick and easy in the end and was done before I knew it. They then had to flush it and run a test through it, before they set it up for the long haul. Safe to say he got it in the right place. My blood pressure dropped right down, below my normal levels within minutes. This meant they then had to pump me with fluids to bring it back up. This was another reason I'd been reluctant to have one too early, as I knew the epidural would lower my already low blood pressure. I'm not sure if it was the epidural itself, the fluids or just the emotional toll of it all but I got cold afterwards and had the shakes up a bit. My contractions had been starting to get quite regular up to this point but had slowed down again. So much for the epidural not affecting my progress. At least we didn't have to worry about dysreflexia anymore.

By midafternoon my contractions were getting better again with the gradual increase of syntocin. I wasn't regular enough to be in what they called established labour, but I was making progress. There had been lots of clear amniotic fluid leaking out everywhere and we had had to change the bedding several times already. The fact that it was clear was a very good sign, meaning there was no sign of bleeding or infection. I'd had the risk of bub passing meconium (the first poop) while still in utero in the back of my mind for months, so I was glad to see that wasn't the case. Baby was still being very happy and active. I was trying to get a video of my belly moving, so I could send it to my sister in the Northern Territory, but I couldn't get my timing right. Tim was smashing through the levels of angry birds on the ipad.

A bit later on, the head anaesthetist came by again to check up on me. He didn't really have much to say. I sent Tim off to meet up with our neighbours and get out of the hospital for a bit while he still had a chance.

Around 5, Dr D came by to do an internal exam. They usually do one after 4 hours of established labour, but since I was close to that, she checked me anyway. I'd progressed to 4-5cm dilated. We made a plan for her to come back at 9pm, by which time I would hopefully be most of the way there. The syntocin was still being gradually increased to help strengthen my contractions. This time when Dr D examined me, I hadn't had any twitches in my feet or stomach spasms, showing the epidural was doing its job.

I spent the next couple of hours sitting up in bed, instead of lying down. It felt good to be in a different position for a bit. Tim ended up staying out for tea with the others before he came back.

Dr D came by at nine for our next check. I knew when she didn't say anything as she was going that something wasn't quite right. I was still only 4-5cm dilated and baby was presenting posterior. It wouldn't have mattered who it was on that bed, in this position, with a baby this big, a vaginal delivery wasn't an option.

Dr D told me that we could leave it for a bit if I wanted, but that with the position the baby was in, I wouldn't dilate any further, since the baby wouldn't be pushing on my cervix. As well as that, the contractions would only be putting pressure on the baby’s head, which would eventually cause the baby to get stressed. She left us alone for a couple of minutes to decide what we wanted to do, but there was never really any option. By this stage I'd been having contractions for 30 hours, I'd had next to no sleep overnight and I'd just found out that despite all our best efforts, I wasn't getting the birth I wanted. I cried. Dr D came in and we gave her the go ahead. Since neither baby nor I were in any danger, we had a bit of time to get things organised.

The next half hour or so was a flurry of people coming and going. They got a hover mat onto the bed underneath me, to make it easier when they needed to transfer me. The syntocin was turned off to slow down my contractions, since they were no longer needed. People came and went. Dr D came in and explained what was going to happen once we got moving. I was still monitored regularly. I continued to cry. Just tears rolling down my face as everything happened around me. I was so utterly disappointed. I knew it wasn't my fault, it wasn't anyone’s fault, but that didn't change how I felt. I managed to calm down enough to call my mum, only to start again as soon as she asked how I was going. Tim was coming with me to surgery, but I wanted Mum there when I came out. Tim and I passed the time trying to come up with baby names. Nothing like leaving things to the last minute.

It was about 11.30 by the time we got to the theatre. I remember lying there thinking how different this was to the last time I was going in for surgery, when the guy pushing my bed had asked if I knew what type of theatre I was going to, I was that jovial. This time I was quiet, just holding it together. I managed a smile for Tim when we stopped to take a photo of each other, me in bed, him in his scrubs. 

Tim ready to go!

They put some SCUDS on my legs, a kind of massaging pressure stocking, a far cry from the teds I got when I broke my back.

SCUDS, to keep the blood flowing through my legs properly

I cannot overstate how much of a difference it made for me, having built up such a great relationship with Dr D. She had listened to me (and Tim, which we both felt was really important) and supported me throughout everything I had asked for and left me in no doubt that she would both try her best to accommodate my wishes, without letting me put myself in danger. She had already gone above and beyond and going into theatre knowing she would be doing the surgery herself, when she could just as well have finished her shift and gone home to her own kids, made the world of difference to me. It stopped something that was really scary from being terrifying and downright traumatic. I trusted her judgement completely. Having both her and Tim there, and knowing Mum was waiting, were the things that kept me from completely falling apart; Although I’m not sure the nursing staff thought I hadn’t already, judging by the number of times they asked me if I was ok. I guess having your patient lying there in a constant flow of tears isn’t the most uplifting sight.

Now I’m sorry, but I’m going to leave you all with a cliff hanger here. I promise I’m already working on the next bit, but if I keep going now, this is going to get out of control. So give me a few days and all will be revealed!