According to the report, my blood pressure decreased, my respiratory rate decreased, as did my circulation. I later found out that if I was not in the operating theatre under specialist care at the time it happened, I would have died - woah!
Now according to reports and what people have said, I had a tube put down my throat to breath, I had a central line put into my jugular vein which lead to my heart to put adrenalin straight into me to get me going again (see pic of it below)
Not me- but same deal
From the blue piece to the right was in me going to my heart!
Now I also was transferred by ambulance from Boulcott to Hutt Hospital (I was unconscious so don't remember that). I was bummed to know that the lights and sirens weren't used though - although since the two buildings are beside each other, I guess thats reasonable ;)
Now my poor husband was conscious the whole time, and got a call 21 minutes after he left me. He ran (doesn't generally run - bad knee) back to the hospital in 3 minutes. White as a ghost, they took his blood pressure to make sure he was ok - it was high surprisingly (well duh, not that much of a surprise). When he saw the surgeon coming towards him, he thought I was dead - but no takes more than that...
Anyway, he was in the ambulance as I was transferred. I was taken to ICU where I eventually became conscious after a while. I woke not knowing anything, but only responded to Anthony calling me Munter (after doctors used Cassandra for a while)! From reports I was in and out of consciousness for a while. When I remember things, the tube from my throat had been removed but had scratched up my throat. I had vague recollections of something being pulled out of my throat in a semi conscious state - that must have been it. I had tubes in me, IV drip, electrodes stuck to me, oxygen tubes, various tubes and lines in me and a catheter - my underwear had gone!!! (note - don't wear underwear you want to keep when going to hospital, it may be cut off). I wasn't in the best state.
Anyway, I soon realised the op hasn't gone ahead. I patted my stomach area and found nothing. Anthony told me, and I got upset. Various doctors, nurses came in. I got angry at Anthony as I wanted to go to the toilet ( had a catheter in me). He said I couldn't go and held me down as I got quite agressive about it ( the adrenalin apparently plays a part in that). I called him various names (which I do regret now). Luckily, since he has had operations - he knew this would happen and found it funny more than anything...phew!
I got my way though, but had to go on a wheelchair toilet. I think I was in and out of consciousness for the afternoon, but slowly improving. My O2 was low and I beeped a lot. Later on that night, they gave me a low carb meal, the drip was removed, and the surgeon came and saw me. It had never happened before to him, but assured me that the operation would go ahead, just a matter of finding out what drug I reacted to and I had to wait six weeks to take allergy tests. My cells need to 'recharge' to react properly and that is how long it takes. NOT HAPPY. But nothing I could do about it either.
And so, I dozed on and off - throughout the night and through about three nurses shifts. By morning, I had improved enough to go to the toilet by myself and get bored. I just wanted to go home. I had to wait to be discharged by the surgeon and doctor and get all the tubes etc taken out of me. Once that was done, it ended up being about lunchtime when I got to go home, and to my own bed to recover.
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