Before I start this post I do need to warn you that is a graphic photo, so please keep scrolling past the first lot of photos if you are squeamish.
After a night of dozing on and off I woke up around 6am to my lovely night-shift nurse Caroline bringing me my cocktail of pain meds, which were very much needed as my nerve block started wearing off around 2am and I needed to get on top of the pain before it wore off fully.
I still had barely any appetite so eating breakfast was a struggle but I eventually managed to eat a quarter of a piece of toast before falling back asleep.
Around 11am the physiotherapist, Chris came in to see me. The whole physio session is a bit of a blur but I do remember telling Chris I hated him every time he made me move as it hurt so much and him just laughing at me and saying he hated me too. I also remember him telling my nurse off (jokingly, he wasn’t actually mean in the slightest) when she suddenly appeared in the middle of my session in the corridor with a syringe full of morphine, which she squirted straight in my mouth whilst I attempted to practice climbing stairs. Thank god for intuitive nurses who know when you need more pain relief without you even having to ask! Eventually Chris helped me get back into bed at which point I remember him asking me if we were friends again (I am sure I said yes but cannot actually remember). X-Rays were then done from bed, which took around 10 mins and were pretty painless.
Once physio and x-rays were done, there was nothing left to do except get my burnt hand re-bandaged (I managed to severely burn my hand just 4 days before my surgery by soaking a casserole dish in boiling water 🤦🏼♀️), attempt to eat something for lunch and wait for Mr M to come and see me and agree to let me go home.
Lunchtime arrived and I just about managed to eat a plain panini, which was a step in the right direction from my pathetic attempt at eating breakfast.
Mr M then arrived around 1pm, I can’t tell you much about his visit because I quite honestly can’t remember most of it due to being so exhausted and in so much pain. I remember responding with “tired” when he asked how I was feeling and I remember how lovely he was (as always). I’m sure he told me info about the surgery but at that point I just wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed.
My lovely nurse Zara then came in, re-bandaged my burn, cut the bandage off my knee and removed the cannula from my hand. She also very kindly helped me get change into some different clothes and packed all my stuff up for me to prevent me from having to move.
And then at 14:30, armed with a massive bag of medication, some very sexy, teal anti-embolism stockings and a very heavy, locked knee brace, it was time to leave and head for home.
I can honestly say the journey home was the worst car journey I’ve ever had. From the moment I got into the car (that was a mission in itself) I just wanted to be back in the safety of the hospital. The only thing more excruciating than getting in and out of the car was getting up the stairs and into bed once we finally arrived home.
After eventually making it to my room (Ian remarked at one point that he would probably turn 40 by the time I made it up the stairs 🙈), the rest of the day was just a blur of a lot of morphine and a lot of sleep.
I am not sure I have ever been more grateful for my own bed. I was dreading having to sleep on my back with my leg in the heavy brace but I was pleasantly surprised to find I managed to get a solid 11 hours of sleep (the pain meds may not have helped my pain but they clearly helped knock me out for a while).
Day 1 post-op was just as horrific as Mr M warned me it would be in terms of the pain but I somehow managed to avoid all of the side effects from the many medications that I was on and I managed to actually sleep so all in all day 1 of recovery could have been worse.