Wow, I made it!  Four weeks ago I had my gastric bypass and now I'm ready to fill you in on all the details.  Settle down, this might be a long one!

My bag was packed and waiting at the bottom of my bed, my dressing gown was washed and softened to within an inch of it's life and my new slippers were lying in wait.  Everything was ready for the next day.  I had a disrupted night of sleep, I tossed and turned for hours turning the thoughts through my mind of what was going to happen.  Eventually I managed to drift off somehow and then woke up at 5am to prepare myself.  I had a long shower, spending extra time making sure every inch of my body was clean, dried myself off with a fresh towel and put on clean clothes.  I even went the extra mile and spread Purell over my entire stomach!  As of midnight I'm now nil-by-mouth but I'm allowed a final drink of water before I get to the hospital at 7.30am so I glug down a hefty mouthful to set me up for the day.  Mum and dad arrive to take Mark and me to the hospital, the drive seems so much longer than it's ever taken before and my stomach is churning.  When we arrive at the hospital I can't believe that this is really happening, this is the last time I'll be outdoors before the operation, when I come out again I'll be different.  We hand in my admission form at the desk and are then asked to go to the same ward where I had my pre-op check.  Unfortunately, the hospital has some problem with patients having support from their family before an operation and so people are not encouraged to stay but my parents and husband refused to leave me on my own and so we were allowed to sit in an office room together and wait.  A nurse came for me and I was taken to a room where I was given a name band, measured for some stockings and my blood pressure was taken.  Well, here we go again!  Those wretched electronic machines do not like my arms at all.  In fact, they don't like any of my limbs!  The nurse tried both upper arms, lower arms, lower legs and thighs and still the stupid machine would not take a reading, I felt like I'd been through a mangle by the end of it!  In the end they just decided to leave it until I got to the operating theatre.

Back in the office room with my family, I started to get gowned up and mum and me wrestled the stockings on, I looked quite a sight to behold.  A few moments later the anesthetist came to introduce herself and explain what was going to happen.  Apparently I was second on the list but the first operation had been cancelled so I was bumped up to first, this suited me fine because at that point I just wanted the whole thing over and done with as soon as possible.  Mr Wong then came in to see me, he was his usual bubbly self and was so caring.  He made sure I was happy with everything and also that my parents and husband were happy too.  After a little more waiting a nurse came back in and said it was time.  We gather all of my things together and give them to a nurse to take up to the ward after I come out of recovery and then make our way down one flight of stairs.  This is where I have to say goodbye to everyone.  Mum was in tears, dad and Mark both looked close to tears but I swallowed my fear and kept a brave face on for their sakes.  I remember I kept saying "You're going to be okay" to my mum and then thinking "Hang on, I'm going to be okay too!"  Saying goodbye was heartbreaking, as much as I didn't want to think of the worst, I couldn't help but think this could be the last time I see them.  The nurse and I went through the door and walked towards the operating theatre, now that my family was gone I had a little bit of a cry to myself.  I was led past a desk and then through double doors to a waiting room where I sat down.  Another nervous woman was opposite me talking to a nurse.  The reality was starting to hit me and I was crumbling.  Lovely nurses came and offered me tissues, took my hands and stroked my hair.  They joked about the sexy stockings and tried to reassure me.  Then one of the doctors who were going to be working on me came out and sat with me.  I don't even remember her name but I do remember how lovely she was.  I gave her a scrap of paper with Mark's mobile number on it and I begged her to call him the second I was in recovery.  She promised me and held my hand tightly whilst we went through some last checks.  It was about 9.00am by this point and she asked me if I was ready to go through.  I nodded with tears in my eyes and we set off down the corridor, we passed the recovery room and many operating theatres, I never imagined this part of the hospital was so big and then we were at my operating theatre.

In the theatre, three more happy, smiley women bustled around me, holding me tightly as though they were old friends.  The room was much smaller than I imagined, I guess I've watched one too many episodes of Casualty and House.  I couldn't see any scalpels or instruments, just a few monitors and machines, there were clocks and timers on the walls and a black table in the middle of the room.  The ladies slid a red slippery sheet onto the bed to make it easier to move me after surgery and I was asked to lie down on the bed and relax.  I could see their faces bobbing in and out of my line of sight, they were speaking constantly and reassuring me the whole time.  A cannula needed to be placed in the back of my hand, these people are experts and got it in a vein in double quick time.  They said they were putting medicine through the cannula to calm me down a bit but I didn't really feel any effect.  They started chatting about shopping and asking whether I had been to the Trafford Center, whilst they were talking they were putting the anaesthetic in and all I remember was getting the Trafford Center and Bluewater confused and apologising and then I was gone.

The next thing I remember was being rocked from side to side and people saying my name, I think it was the movement of the trolley being pushed into the recovery room.  I remember asking whether it had been done keyhole and if everything had gone well and a nurse reassured me that everything had gone perfectly.  I slipped in and out of consciousness for a while and then they were wheeling me onto the ward.  The first people I saw were Mark and dad, both looking thoroughly exhausted, I gave them a loopy wave and they were told to give me ten minutes to get settled on the ward.  Everything is really hazy at this point, it's just snippets of memories.  I remember mum coming in and me refusing to let her leave and her worrying that Mark would be upset that he couldn't come in.  I was given a glass of water and sponges on sticks to moisten my mouth with as I was not allowed to drink until I had my scan the next day.  Even though I was given fluids through IV I was completely dry so the sponges came in very handy but when you're in a state of passing consciousness it can be quite interesting.  My hands were not aiming the sponges at my mouth, I was hitting myself in the cheek, the eye, eventually getting it in my mouth and then falling asleep only to find the sponge in my cleavage.  Twice in the night I fell asleep with my hand in the glass and woke up to it falling onto the floor.  I have been reassured by my family that it was one of the funniest things they have ever seen and me yelling out "where did she come from?" every time a nurse came over was also a comedy point.  I was strapped up to a morphine drip which is self-controlled, so every time I needed a boost of painkiller I just pressed the button and it would administer the correct amount of medication.  I think I slept pretty much constantly for the rest of the day.

The next day physio came to see me and to get me moving around a bit.  It seems so weird to be asked to move around when you've just had your insides rearranged but I did my best.  My tummy was really sore when I tried to sit up and it was almost as though my stomach muscles weren't working at all.  I had a drain on my left side and a catheter, I was also hooked up to an IV stand so all of this had to be moved around with me as I got up off the bed.  Standing was quite painful, a terrible tugging in my left side and I felt drained almost instantly.  I made it to the chair and was then allowed to return to bed for some much needed rest.  Later on in the day a porter and nurse took me down to get a scan of my pouch to check for leaks.  Again I had to get out of the bed which was an enormous struggle and then I had to stand on a little podium.  I was given a cup of thick juice which was supposed to taste like orange but really tasted like something bitter, the juice would show up on the scan and if there were any leaks it would show.  I took several gulps of the juice while the camera arm swirled around me and then it was done and the man said he was quite satisfied that there were no leaks.  Back up on the ward I was cleared for having small sips of water which was a welcome relief after the sponge sticks.  In the night my oxygen saturation went down to 88% so I was put on oxygen until they stabilised, I was also having very high pulse readings of about 130bpm at rest and the staff were a bit concerned about that.  They ended up ordering an ECG just to make sure my heart was okay and it turned out that as with the blood pressure cuffs, the electronic pulse reader was also not my friend.  A reading by hand was taking my pulse at 80bpm, so the machines were scrapped for me.

On the third day during visiting when my husband was there I decided to venture into the shower with his help.  I was finally unhooked from the IV drip when the vein they were using collapsed and it was just decided to remove the cannula.  I've never felt such weakness and tiredness, the room was so warm I felt I would pass out and I didn't have enough energy to wash properly.  This was the first time I had a proper look at my wounds and although they looked rather barbaric with tufts of blue thread sticking out all over the place and some pretty fancy bruising, you could see Mr Wong had done a neat job.  I was slowly introduced to my medication a pill or so at a time to wean me onto swallowing again.  The physios would come around every day and take me for walks up and down the corridor, going further each day to get me used to being back on my feet.  Two lovely friends from the support group came and visited me whilst I was in hospital and that meant such a lot to me, to know that people were thinking of me and supporting me through this.

Thursday was the day I started eating pureed food.  For breakfast I was brought half a weetabix and some milk, I left it until it was soggy and mushy and then tentatively tried small pieces.  I had no idea what it was going to feel like when I was eating, there was no pain or anything but I was afraid of eating too much so I stopped after a couple of bites.  Mr Wong came around soon after and said that if there was no food present in the drain by the evening then it could be removed and the catheter could too.  Lunch and tea were both a small scoop of mashed potato with gravy and by 8pm there was no trace of food in the drain so it was time to take it out.  A lovely male nurse removed it for me and oh my goodness did it hurt, it felt like a writhing snake was trying to get out of my tummy.  The catheter was a piece of cake, I didn't even feel it coming out although I did think I was peeing myself.  Finally, I was in complete control of all of my faculties and I was free from all the tubes and wires.  It felt so good to get back into my own clothes and be able to move around freely and to be able to pee on my own!  After the catheter is removed you need to give three urine samples to show the nurses that you are passing urine fine and by the next morning I had provided my three samples!

On Friday I was determined to get home, it was extremely lonely in hospital and I just wanted to get back to familiar surroundings.  The doctors came on their ward rounds and gave me the excellent news that I could indeed go home today, I just needed to wait for my prescriptions and a discharge note.  Well, isn't that just the worst part about being in hospital?  The near eight hour wait to be discharged.  I had been told that I could leave at about 1pm so I got my mum to come and collect me, I hadn't had painkillers all day because my medicine chart had gone missing, I was tired and just wanted to snuggle up somewhere quiet and comfy.  We were then told that it could be after 6pm before everything was ready for me to go, in the end we begged them to discharge me right away and we would return in the evening to pick up the medication.  Thankfully they agreed and mum wheeled me out of the hospital to the car.  The bumpy roads were a bit of a problem, my tummy was still sore on one side and any slight jolt was enough to bring tears to my eyes.  I was just glad to eventually be home, Mark made a little nest for me on the sofa and I stayed there sleeping on and off for a few hours.  Every so often I would get up and walk around a bit but then I'd have to collapse back on the sofa, exhausted.  My tummy muscles still didn't feel like my own and getting up off the couch and sitting down was quite painful so Mark needed to assist me.  After a couple of days of sleeping on the sofa I really wanted to get comfy in my own bed.  Earlier in the day Mark had made me a peach smoothie from peaches and natural yoghurt, after a couple of tiny sips I felt like it wasn't agreeing with me so I left it and didn't think much of it until much later when I was in bed.  My tummy was so terribly painful, I couldn't get up off my back so I called through to Mark to come and help me, all of a sudden I started retching.  I was terrified that I was going to be sick and burst the stitches or the staples so I was trying to control it but in the end I was terrifically sick all over myself and the entire room smelled like fresh peaches!  After I was sick I felt so much better so I think my tummy really didn't like peaches that day!  After that fiasco we decided that I would sleep on the sofa until I was able to get up myself.

I took things day by day, food was really not very appealing.  Anything that is pureed really turns my stomach, it's a texture that I just can't tolerate.  Some things were nicer than others but in the end I mainly stuck to thin soups as they were easier to tolerate.  On Monday, a week out from the surgery, the largest incision, beside the drain site, was looking extremely red and inflamed.  I was deeply concerned about it so I decided to visit my GP just to put my mind at rest.  The area was red hot and was still causing me a terrible amount of pain and my painkillers had just ran out.  The GP thought it was perhaps a small infection so he put me on a course of antibiotics and hoped that they would clear it up.  On  Wednesday morning I woke up at 4am to take my antibiotic and then laid back down to go to sleep.  My hand passed over something moist on the bed sheet and I thought I had just spilled a droplet of water but then there seemed to be more patches of wetness.  I knew right then that my incision had burst.  I was too terrified to move so I woke Mark as gently as I could, I didn't want him to panic either.  He put the light on to have a look but I was too scared to lift my nightdress, I didn't know what was going to be underneath and I really didn't want to find out.  Eventually I mustered the courage to look underneath.  My nightdress was saturated and there was a small hole at the edge of the large incision which was weeping a yellowy bloody discharge.  Immediately Mark jumped into action getting sterile salt water and cotton wool balls, we tried to mop up the mess as best we could but every time I breathed it was pushing more gunk out.  When I stood up to go to the toilet it was spurting down onto the floor.  I tried really hard to keep calm and called my GP surgery to make an emergency appointment for the morning, I didn't think it was bad enough to need to go to A&E so we just waited it out until the morning came.  We dressed the wound and somehow I managed to get back to sleep.  When I woke up the wound was still weeping terribly so off we went to the GP surgery where I was seen by the most lovely doctor I have ever met.  She was called Dr. Rosenberg, a beautiful and elegant young woman with such an open and friendly manner.  She took my blood pressure which was spot on but my temperature and heart rate were raised.  After viewing the incision she said that it had been an abscess which had popped in the night and she wanted me to go straight to hospital to get it checked over because she wasn't sure how far the infection had spread.  I was distraught, I had only just come out of hospital and now I was going to have to go back in again!  Dr. Rosenberg was amazed that I was in so little pain and said I should be doubled over and I must have a very high pain threshold, that's the first time anyone has ever said that to me!

Mum and me made the trip back to the hospital, neither of us knowing what was going to happen and both of us hoping that it wasn't anything too bad.  When I was booked onto the ward a surgical nurse and doctor came to see me and it was decided that they were going to open the wound up fully, remove all the infection they could and then leave the wound to heal open.  All this time I had been so scared of accidentally opening the wound at home by moving too much and then I come into hospital and they actually tear it open!  It wasn't painful but it felt extremely weird when she put two fingers deep into the incision to see if the stitches to the muscle wall had burst as well.  Luckily the muscle was intact, she scooped the rest of the infection out, doused it in iodine which DID hurt and then they attached a stoma bag to the wound to allow anymore infection to drip out.  I needed to have a blood test to make sure that I didn't have any blood poisoning but luck was on my side again and I didn't need to stay in hospital.  I was allowed home with two strong antibiotics and told that I would need to go to my GP surgery everyday for the wound to be irrigated and packed.  I must have an amazingly fast healing body because by the next day when we went to have the wound irrigated and packed, it had already healed over completely apart from a tiny hole at one side which wasn't even big enough for a syringe tip to fit into.  The nurse just decided that It would be best to wash the outside of the incision and then dress it with a thick pad instead of re-opening it again just to rinse the inside.  When I got home that evening there was a letter for me from the hospital asking me to attend Mr Wong's clinic the next day, I had called his receptionist a few days before and told them of my worries about the incision and obviously news had gotten back to Mr Wong that I had been re-admitted and he wanted his team to see me.  I saw his registrar on the day and she was just astounded that it had healed up so quickly in such a short space of time.  All I needed to do was dress it myself everyday until it stopped leaking and then let it heal.  Now it just looks like all the other incisions with just a tiny raised bit like a blood blister, everyday it looks better than the last and I'm so glad that I had a lucky escape.

I have lost 33.5lbs so far since the pre-op diet which I am really pleased about.  Already people have noticed the change and my clothes are literally falling off my body.  I feel good although still very tired and everyday is a challenge trying to fit in all the food, medicines and water that I need to stay healthy.  It's definitely not been easy so far and I'm sure it's going to be difficult for a while, but it's a learning curve and I'll just have to master it in time.  I feel so empowered that I made this decision to improve my life and I've already been making plans for the future when I'm slimmer.  I feel as though a great weight has been lifted from me, the future is bright now.