We are certainly on a roll at the moment, today’s talk was all about removing the central line, further reduction in pain management and promoting me up to the next level of nutritional sustenance. And breath….
In preparation for removal of the central line a venflon was fitted to my arm today, probably move away from the really good stuff to the ‘run of the mill’ stuff, but as the pain gets less and less each day then that makes sense.
Central line removal is completely painless despite it being sat completely in side the body. Again amazing
Deep breathing training is a little bit more challenging, I mean I don’t plan to go free diving any time soon in the future, so…
Actually breathing normally is one of the hardest things to do after surgery, the tendency is for short shallow breaths which seriously deplete the oxygen levels in the blood, the cocktail of painkilling drugs merely exasibates this further.
Enter the spirometer
Looking remarkably like a device for removing pith from orange juice this bad boy through clever manipulation of plastic floats and spindles ensures you ‘inhale’ at a precise and steady flow rate, success is around the technique as oppose to ‘ringing the bell’. If I was to score myself currently it would be ‘Room for improvement- C+’ I’m currently at half my lung strength pre surgery.
Laughter is the best medicine
… unless of course you are laughing so hard you end up in bed as you think you have pulled something.
That was the case when daughter Merryn came to visit and we both decided to google ‘Stoma jokes’ , well why not. If you are squeamish I suggest you don’t do this, oh no. Don’t blame me if you do. Like father like daughter
I began in earnest to work on my escape strategy today, carefully watching the to-ing and fro-ing over my time here I have made many notes of the patterns of entry and exits and timings and by whom. Uniforms of many types were noted and, if an escape were to be successful I would somehow need to fashion a uniform out of old bed sheets if I was to ‘pull it off’ without being noticed.
My structural calculations undertaken whilst laying in bed calculated that any tunnel would take 38 years to dig. I only have enough lucozade for 2 days, 3 at a push. This was therefore out of the question.
Opportunity arose today though when daughter Merryn come to visit, on her departure I seized my opportunity, mingling amongst other visitors I bolted for the ward entrance.. I was free..
We got as far as the lift lobby before the inevitable recapture, we said our goodbyes and within minutes I was back in the ward.
Punishment was swift and harsh, ‘Report to Matron at 17:00 for stoma bag inspection’
I have decided on no further escape plans. Besides there’s Tapioca for lunch tomorrow.