July 15, 2004

Fifteen To A Man

Now for those of you that have never experienced a 'Housemans Pull', quite simply it is a legal form of the torture rack! Picture the scene, in a big x-ray room, an operating size table in the middle, the standard screened off area to protect the radiographer, and this giant x-ray machine hovering over the table. But wait, what's that at one end of the bed? It looks like a restraining device. My eyes follow down and there some more straps at the end of the table. Okay, Candid Camera or Beadles is about to pop out any minute and we will all have a jolly good laugh! Hmmm, teenagers are always getting it wrong. Dr. Jekyl comes in with armour plating vests, rubber gloves and an eerie grin, and I swear a blob of ketchup on his lower lip. Anyway, I digress.

So there I am in the hospital gown that is no thicker than a paper napkin, the rear all exposed. I have never been able to tie things behind my back, so my 15 year old butt is on display and the crown jewels subject to x-ray vision! I'm told to lay on the bed. It was quite high so I steadied myself with one hand while trying to keep the gown form turning into superman's cape. The doctor who is a Houseman is going to oversee the x-ray, leather straps are placed over my head and the doctor takes my feet and pulls me!! Whoa!!! Hold on. I'm used to chest against the plate, breathe in, hold, next! Anyway this form of medical torture is repeated four or five times and the reason for doing this is to see how flexible my spine is. When I'm pulled, effectively straightening me up, they x-ray it and measure it against 'normal' x-rays of my spine. Needless to say I never got into bondage in my later life..why should I. I did that in my teens!

Skip forward a few months. I have to admit, I abandoned the plastic body brace after a couple of weeks, wearing that 23 hours a day, was agony. I couldn't bend, going to the toilet was difficult, and I looked like Mr. Potato Head on steroids! My next appointment confirmed that there was no decline and I was now at 36 percent curvature and there seemed to be no let up. The Torture chamber had revealed that my spine was flexible enough to go ahead and have an operation to correct the problem. I was to have a scoliosis Fusion. Sounds all fine and dandy. I'd be in the hospital for around three weeks and I could have it done at my local orthopedic hospital, which was a centre of excellence.

My admission date comes. Into hospital I go. I couldn't really remember pain and discomfort from my heart operation when I was six, so to say I was apprehensive was about right. A doctor came and there was a change of plan. Because of the complexity of my heart condition, it wasn't safe to operate on me at that hospital. I had to go to another hospital in the centre of London, 20 minutes away from my Heart Hospital. In case of complications they could send a team and advise on my treatment. I was taken by ambulance, with blue lights flashing to the new hospital. I think it was a treat for me to have the lights going or the ambulance driver was on a promise later with his wife because it wasn't an emergency!

I had settled into my new ward. It was a very long ward, with younger children at one end about a mile down the corridor and I was at the other end. There were six beds. I had one and one other was occupied by a girl called Jenny. In about an hour a young boy joined us but he was in for day surgery and would be gone in the morning. My bed was right next to Jenny's. She was 19, blonde, and the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I was in awe of her. I was 15 and love struck. We became friends very quickly. We had the run of the place, well at our end anyway. We only saw a nurse for checking our blood pressure and to say, "see ya tomorrow".

Jenny was scheduled for an operation on her foot in a couple of days, as I was for my operation. We chatted and laughed and there was an instant bond between us. She said I was very sweet, had a cheeky smile and I spoke to her with my eyes. Oh really! I often wondered as I got older and wiser, did she mean I was undressing her with my eyes! I wouldn't have far to go though as she stayed in the shortest of nighties all day and night. We were inseparable. Our parents, noticed how close we were and how we were laughing about stuff that they didn't understand. When my mum came to visit me she visited Jenny too and vice versa. The night before our operations Jenny made a man of me. It was thrilling, daunting, scary. We could of been caught in the bathroom at anytime. I was ready for anything now. The morning came and Jenny went to theatre first, she would be in a few days further. We swapped phone numbers, addresses, blood groups, date of birth, shoes sizes, everything! I was praying that when I came back from intensive care, Jenny would still be there.

I woke up and the first thing I noticed was the pain. The pain, the pain. What had they done to me? I was flat on my back, tubes of all sizes sticking out of every orifice. The next thing I noticed was that I felt 10 feet tall. A nurse hovered over me, injected me and I was asleep again in seconds. I think I was asleep for a day. When I woke again, I still had the tube down my throat, helping me to breathe. I pulled at it furiously. They wouldn't take it out just yet. Then came the pain again. I was under a regime of being turned on my side every two hours. Nurses all rolled me over. That hurt in itself.

I have never been a sleep on your back person, maybe due to my back problem, so it was a relief to move, but within 5 minutes I had wanted to be turned again and then turned back again. I just couldn't get conmfortable or any relief from the pain. A doctor came with a tape measure. I thought it was the undertaker come to measure me up for my coffin! I got a bit restless at this point. What I hadn't noticed was that I hadn't spoken since being awake. The tube was gone that was breathing for me, but there was no sound from my mouth. Also my left side just didn't feel there. I rolled my eyes to my left hand and tried to lift my heavily bandaged hand with tubes coming out of it like strands of spaghetti, but it just wouldn't move. Tears trickled down my face and my mum comforted me as best she could. I drifted in and out for what seemed like eternity. When I woke again, there seemed to be like half a dozen doctors around me. I could just make out they were talking about sending me to intensive care again. Heart monitors were on me now. I had an oxygen mask on too. My mum whispered to me that the doctors were there from The Brompton Hospital (my heart hospital) and not to worry. I could see in her eyes that worry had kept sleep from her for days.

The actual operation involved taking bone from my right hip, inserting a titanium rod the length of my spine, drilling holes into the spine attaching wires through the holes and then pulling them and the spine to the rod and then fixing with the bone from my hips. Thus to straighten my spine as best as possible. I was like a walk in wardrobe. Unzip me from the chest and exit via the back! Another scar to worry about. Days passed and I was moved back down to the old part of the ward.

My eyes scanned for Jenny. She was gone. There was a card for me she had left, with a nice letter inside. And unbeknown to me a little present which the ward sister found in my locker. A single condom. My mum had to answer questions about her little boys sexual activity. It's funny now and was a good joke, but I was embarrassed as hell and didn't know where to put my face. I dismissed it with a cry of pain and moans and groans. My next phase was to go from eating and drinking flat on my back, through a straw..try it sometime..but have the indigestion pills ready to be able to sit up under a heap of pillows. The last of the draining tubes had gone. It was to be my first time upright. I had to learn how to roll over using my hands and elbow and push myself up in a sideways movement while keeping my back straight. Accomplished that, with help, as my little frame had gotten even thinner due to lack of eating properly and being on liquid feeds for ages. As reached a sitting on the edge of the bed position, I had a head rush, I saw stars and was dizzy as hell. That was that for today. The next few days that was the routine, sit up, get less dizzy, lay down again.

One particular day I was to be in Star Trek, to go where no man had gone before, explore strange new worlds. I was to actually sit up and then stand up. It was the strangest feeling. I felt as if I had a plank of wood stuck to my back. I felt very tense and yet numb and solid weight at the same time. I was up now, get me my horse, I'm riding out of town! I was allowed to take a couple of small steps and that was it. I wanted to go to the toilet myself, walk around, find the exit!! I was out of bed over the next couple of days and I could take more and more steps. I had convinced them that I was quite safe to go to the toilet myself and then come back. So I was in and out of bed as often as I could, using the excuse to go to the toilet. My left arm and hand was still very weak and numb, but they said it would all come back soon. I did look like hell. I still had a drip I had to drag around and hadn't brushed my hair for what seemed like weeks, bed head..I had terminal bed head! I had a visitor. I heard crutches coming down the corridor and then a head pop round the door to my room, followed by a leg in plaster and then...Jenny.

She made some remark about me being lazy and to get out of bed. I couldn't move. All I could think of was what the nurse had found! She sat down and held my hand, my left hand and just smiled at me. I remember a tear running down my face and I turned away slightly. In that touch and smile, I could tell she knew all I had gone through. She came over and kissed me ever so softly on my quivvering lip. We just sat smiiing at each other for what must of been an hour, her gently stroking my hand.......

Posted by Lee on July 15, 2004 02:34 PM

Posted by: Anonymous at July 20, 2004 10:17 PM

Posted by: Judy in AZ at July 23, 2004 12:28 PM

Post a comment