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Post surgery

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I wake to a nurse named Michael who confesses to being a bikie in a previous life but not an archangel. I feel no painjust a little euphoria at having made it thus far. Back in thew ard I am greeted with flowers- I regard every single one with wonder and delight. There will be 11 bouquets in all – each unique and bringing love and kind words. John, Mike, Barb are there and amazed that I am conscious soon. The morphine pump is by my side and every hour, then second hour I take advantage of the relief. I am oxygenated because of the morphine – SATS go from 95-99. I did not expect to be pain free and clear in the head. My mouth is dry and lips stick together. They feed me crushed ice. I have 3 tubes draining from the wounds into bags by the bed. Dave Machin & Jeannie call with flowers not expecting to see me. Friends calling are surprised when I am handed a phone.They serve a light tea and I eat even more lightly not wanting to encourage nausea. I sleep fitfully; sip water from a baby’s plastic drinking cup – its pouring mouth the only nipple in the room! Hourly obs punctuate the night.


About pipsky

A creative, generous 64 year old with a PhD in Performance Studies trying to grow old disgracefully while working like mad in regional Queensland, squeezing the juice out of every day & still trying to find the balance that will maintain the quiet mind that makes her useful to others and nice to live with.

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