Location: Los Alcázares & Cartagena, Murcia, Spain
Summary: A painful, difficult week that began with enforced bed rest and ended with an emergency return to hospital, a second operation and the surreal world of drips, staples and Agent Sharky’s hospital dispatches.
Friday, October 29th
A day in bed and pain with no relief
I spent most of the day in bed, in a lot of pain and restricted to only three paracetamol a day. Not the most encouraging start to the week.
Saturday, October 30th
Pain again, but Arsenal bring a little joy
Another painful day, but at least I could watch the Leicester vs Arsenal match from the bed now set up in my living room. Arsenal won 0-2, and the result numbed the pain a little.
Sunday, October 31st
A worrying discovery and a chaotic return to hospital
Still in a lot of pain, but I watched Arsenal Women beat Brighton Women 3-0. Later, while going to the toilet, I noticed blood dripping from the wound in my stomach. That was enough, I needed to get back to the hospital.
I tried calling an ambulance using the numbers on my ASSSA card but had no luck. I messaged my neighbour Liz, who speaks Spanish, and she helped me try again. Eventually an ambulance was called, but the driver refused to take me because my insurance is private. After arguing with the numbers on my card, he finally got ASSSA to send their own ambulance.
When the ASSSA ambulance arrived, the driver stretchered me out but refused to take me unless I paid 70€ upfront. I paid and got a receipt to claim it back.
At the hospital I was taken to a room, put on antibiotics and painkillers, and the wound was cleaned. One staple was removed and several blood tests were taken. Later that night I was given extra painkillers to help me sleep.
Monday, November 1st
Pain, drips, and more tests
I woke in pain and spent the day being drip fed antibiotics and painkillers, with more blood tests taken throughout the day.
Tuesday, November 2nd
A second operation, awake this time
I woke early when they changed the drips. Still in a lot of pain. A doctor told me the surgeon would see me in the evening and might remove another staple.
That evening my bed was wheeled down to the pre theatre room, and soon after I was taken into the operating theatre. The surgeon examined the wound and I was given an epidural, paralysing me from the chest down. A sheet was placed in front of my face so I couldn’t see anything.
I wasn’t knocked out this time. I felt no pain, but I was fully aware of everything, the removal of staples, the prodding, poking and manipulation of the wound. They stitched me back up, but then struggled to get a needle into a vein to reconnect the drips. After about eight attempts, the surgeon himself managed it.
I was wheeled back to my room and given more painkillers before falling asleep.
Wednesday, November 3rd
Drips in arms and feet, a surprise in my navel, and a painful clean
I woke early as they changed the drips in both my arms and feet, all feeding me antibiotics and painkillers. I had a tostada for breakfast before a nurse arrived to clean the wound.
I asked her to photograph it since I couldn’t see it properly. I was surprised to see a flat rubber tube coming out of my navel. She then injected something into the wound with a large needle to clean it. Painful, but not as bad as before the second operation.
Thursday, November 4th
More cleaning, more painkillers, and Agent Sharky takes command
I woke early for more antibiotics and painkillers. After breakfast, the nurse cleaned the wound again, squirting some kind of brown fluid into and around it before redressing it.
Perhaps it was the drugs, the boredom or the surreal nature of hospital life, but today I allowed my alter ego, Agent Sharky, to take over my posts for the duration of my stay. Agent Fisher attempted a rescue mission but aborted. He promises to try again soon.
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