Tuesday - Day 1 post-surgery. Drains, DVT stocking and teddies!
The drains ..
Paul doing really well despite being drugged up to eyeballs and in constant pain.
All his vitals are good and he is surprisingly deemed "too well for intensive care"
I read him the paper and Prof Lang came round to go over everything again and check on P.
He is so wonderful. Unlike a lot of surgeons, Loic takes time to answer our questions and always presents the positive. He seemed really happy with everything..he's exceptionally caring..and so keen to get to know us better.
The nurses love him because he is kind and hands-on - keen to educate everyone..
In the afternoon Paul got to move back to his room on the first floor.
The physio Denise managed to get him to sit in a chair - flipping painful, but he did it!
The pain is largely coming from the 2 drains. The prof has done a beautiful job of the wounds - I expected massive cuts, but P is on an epidural for the upper part of the body, then there's a drain coming out of his back and side of the lung.
This drain is nothing more than a long plastic tube cutting through his chest muscle. Almost medieval, but it works.
He can't really do much for himself. He is SUPER-thirsty and drinking gallons. I'm up and down all day, fixing pillows, refreshing water, fetching stuff and getting nurses when required.
Loved feeling required.
I've never seen so many wires and tubes.
He also has a canula on his wrist and also at his neck.
He is properly "wired"
The single worst enemy for Paul is coughing. Wow, does that look agony.. It's so grim to watch.
He's been given a "teddy" - a rolled up towel to clutch into his chest when he needs to clear his throat or cough. However when he does that, it provides only mild relief.
The "teddy" is shown on the left pic...
His temperature spiked a little in the afternoon. They are keeping an eye on him.
I can't take my eyes off him. I often wonder how a person can be almost superhuman.
I couldn't endure what he's going through.
His mum and I left the hospital at 11pm.
I got home and wept on the kitchen floor.
I sobbed. Not for me, but for what this bloody cancer is putting my beautiful Paul through. It's hell. Utterly barbaric. I just feel so helpless and want to take it all away from him.
Mesothelioma, you thought I could't handle you...and today you have scored high..but I've had a weep and a swear in private, gathered my energy after a pep-talk from mum (I love her sooo much) .. and I'm coming back for you tomorrow with a vengeance.
You're not going to be able to handle US...