I think this may be turning into more of a diary than anything
but I'm in an amazing mood and have had a strangely brilliant day.
So, its now 11.30pm and I can't sleep, yay for normalness I suppose
because I never have slept well. If I doo then I'm either sick or drugged up brilliantly.
I have extreme agoraphobia and have done knowingly for years, it completely rules my life to the point where I don't go to parties, I don't go in to town when it's busy, if I go in to a new place the first thing I look for is all my possible escape routes etc etc. I never even went to school assemblies in high school because sitting in a big hall with several hundred kids packed in and schoolbags blocking my escape routes just sent me over the edge. For the ones I did have to go to (eg prizegiving) I would sit with a class that was right by the door, on the end seat so I had no obstructions to my exit if I needed to get out.
I had myself thoroughly convinced that I was fine this morning, I walked into the hospital and kept myself convinced that I was fine (I was actually shut off in dream land pretending I wasn't in the hospital-that's my coping mechanism a lot of the time) I got shown to my room and the nurse came in almost straight away and she was just lovely, I managed to pull myself out of my dream land without panicking and she made me feel completely at ease, and she had a nice sense of humour which is good because I tend to joke around a lot when I'm trying to cope. Went through all the paperwork and questions etc and that was fine, I had my own private bathroom attached to my room (thank goodness!). A number of doctors and nurses passed through my room, each of them were great and made me feel comfortable around them as much as possible. I warned all of them about my agoraphobia and what happens when I have panic attacks and that I was likely to not cope very well. The anaesthetist said that was cool and he would have some special sedative set aside in case I needed them.
1.30pm I got taken in and I had pulled myself back into my dreamland to cope. (wearing a button up gown and a nappy type thing that I will not forget, YUCK!) As I was being wheeled out of my room mum said "everything will be fine, it's ok" and bam - verbal trigger. I got snapped out of dreamland and there began the panic attack. Not mums fault at all, she didn't realise I have verbal triggers like that as well as the other triggers, I should have pre-warned her and asked her not to say it but it slipped my mind.
Down the corridor we go, I'm paralysed by my concentration to keep breathing normally, I can't speak or hear anything because I'm focusing so hard on my breathing, I tend to either hyperventilate to the point where I vomit(cue the emetophobia issue here) or I stop breathing completely and pass out, yay!
My head was screaming to me to get the heck off that bed and run like crazy, just get out, don't go through those doors, this was a stupid idea, why did I turn up in the first place. Leave now and it will be fine. But being paralysed by my concentration on breathing stopped me from doing that.
As soon as I went through the doors just before the theatre I started crying hysterically in silence and my entire body was shaking. I had to get up and walk from my bed to the theatre table, but I couldn't get my legs to cooperate (still concentrating on breathing) so I had one guy on one side and one on the other since I got out of bed and promptly collapsed on the floor from fear and dizziness(dizziness is normal for me) so basically they carried me in, all I had to do was keep my feet in contact with the floor.
They layed me down on the table on my back, arms outstretched for the monitors on one arm and the cannula in the other arm. It took them 2 attempts at putting a cannula in, which has never happened to me before as I'm told I have amazing veins, maybe they hid in fear
As soon as the cannula was in successfully in went the sedative. No questions asked. I was exerting as much control as I could over myself but I was very quickly losing the battle and almost got up and ran at this point, not being able to concentrate on breathing anymore.
So anyway, bam, in goes sedative through IV. Not 5 seconds later I was laying there in bliss. Completely happy and comfortable looking at the pretty overhead lights, feeling like I was floating on a cloud. I was able to relax and breath completely normally, no more panic attack, I could talk, I could hear, but I was completely happy as larry.
Then they hooked me up to a saline drip and stuck the anaesthetic in through my IV line. Night night. I don't remember falling asleep this time, I just remember waking up in recovery and the nurse asking me if I wanted mum in the room, I said "no I'm still in my happy place" (where did that come from! I didn't even choose to say that! Good drugs!)
I did have an ET tube during the procedure, I was told that, but I went to sleep with no tube and also woke up with no tube, just an oxygen mask and the worst case of gas I've ever had haha! She told me not to be ladylike and just let it go, to which my response was "well darn, I've never been ladylike about anything in my life!"
I was in theatre for an hour, and in recovery for 35 minutes. The surgeon come in to my room after I had woken up properly enough to comprehend serious questions and not answer them like I was high.
He said that the colonoscopy was not normal. Definitely not normal. But he said it didn't absolutely scream Crohns at him. He does think I have Crohns disease, but he has sent away biopsies which will be back in one week just to be sure.
When I woke up after a snooze in my room, I woke up to an amazingly cute stuffed cow and penguin in front of me, mum had gone out to find slippers at the shops and had come back with the stuffed animals, a nice pair of loose trackies, some new socks and a really nice hoodie! Bless her, she didn't have to do that!
And the surgeon gave me a little red box with gold ribbon on it saying "Get Well" in nice writing, inside it held 3 dark chocolates with a slight hint of mint flavour. I've eaten half of one so far, thought I had better not overdo it, I gave mum the other half.
Then I met a new nurse who had just come on to her shift and she was lovely too, she was really funny and light hearted, she was one seriously compassionate woman, and she went out and got me some amazing sandwiches and a collection of coffees/teas and drinking chocolate. I don't drink coffee so I had the drinking chocolate with only a teeny bit of milk. But man, who knew hospital food could get so good! It was amazing, better than most cafes! And better room service than a 5 star hotel!
I was feeling amazing at this point, both physically and mentally better than I have done in months. I am almost excited to possibly have Crohns Disease, purely because it is so close to a diagnosis, which will then mean I can get proper help and carry on with my life as well as I can.
I then got home, already feeling pretty good, and mum cooked some fresh crumbed hoki for dinner so I had a small piece of that. Then I'm sitting down using dads iPad for facebook and he goes "can you turn that off for a minute?" "uh, yeah sure?" he then proceeds to hand me this gorgeous gift bag, and inside is a brand spanking new white 16gb iPhone 5, colour me shocked. I had no idea what to say apart from "OMG" and "thankyou" and his reasoning behind it was that he thinks I've deserved it for going through all of the problems I have gone through over the past 3 years. I was just astounded and I'm still struggling to believe that I have an iPhone 5, I always wanted one, but I was prepared to save up and get one for myself, but dad thinks I deserve to just have one like that? I won't complain, but I'm really not sure I do understand, both mum and dad have already done so much for me and I couldn't ever thank them enough, but to put this phone on top of it all makes me feel like a seriously spoilt little brat, although my secret theory behind the iPhone is that now I have to send dad Candy Crush lives, since I couldn't on my LG Optimus
And in other good news!
I got a phonecall on my way to the hospital this morning about my orthopaedic surgeon appointment on October 17th for the consult of the surgery on my thumb... well, they have bumped my appointment forward! To tomorrow!! So tomorrow at 2pm I will be talking to a surgeon about having an operation on my thumb in the very near future hopefully. It feels like everything *might* just be coming together now. But I'm scared to get my hopes up.
I'm sorry, that is a huge novel, but even with the panic attack almost ruining everything, and having a probable lifelong disease diagnosis, as well as pending surgery on my thumb, I kind of feel on top of the world, so I'm going to make the most of that while it lasts. Because I know it won't last forever, so why shouldn't I make the most of it?