I get my first look at my beautiful new haircut when I go to the bathroom later that day. It’s pretty confronting. As soon as I went under they shaved off all the hair from the front part of my head, so now I have a massive dressing with dried bloody bit arounds it and an even bigger bald spot surrounding that. The way Myron described entering my head I had pictured a much smaller wound / shaved head part so it’s a little shocking. But hey, I’m alive!
My first night staying in hospital after the operation is pretty brutal. I’m in a shared room with 3 other people, all much older than I am. The man next to me keeps trying to get out of his bed (despite a neck brace from what I’m assuming is a broken or fractured neck), because he ‘needs to cook dinner for my brother. He’s due any minute. Just need to get to the kitchen.’ Each time the nurses calmly and patiently remind him that he’s in hospital and is recovering from surgery. The woman opposite him is quiet but each time I sneak a look at her she appears so desperately ill I feel scared. But it’s the elderly woman opposite me that is not doing well at all. She keeps moaning, sometimes yelling and rolling over on her catheter so her machine starts beeping. Throughout the night the nurses have to change all her bed linen twice as she keeps soiling herself. My heart breaks for her. But yes I’m cranky as well. How the hell is someone expected to get any sleep with all this going on throughout the night?! I’m being pumped with as much Endone as is legally allowed and still no shut eye, not even for a few minutes. I spend most of the night reading with my little bed lamp on, praying for a private room for the following night.
The nurses, who are all so lovely, tell me first thing in the morning that I’ll be getting my own room later that day. I’m fucking thrilled! After breakfast (which I demolish, honestly the steroids I’m on have given me the appetite of 3 large men combined) I’m asked if I’d like a shower. Yes please! I feel pretty dirty and gross. The nurse helps me out of bed and I choose some clean underwear and PJs from my bag. She walks me over to the shower room and asks if I’d like her to stay and help me. I do feel a little unsteady on my feet, but not enough to bathe naked in front of a complete stranger, so I politely decline. I don’t lock the door as I figure if something does go wrong they’ll need to get in there. About halfway through my shower a male nurse opens the door. That was fun.
I stay in hospital in my own room for another two nights. In a weird way I enjoy it. I’m so weak that it’s lovely to be waited on by the nurses and my visitors. I have a room full of flowers, an iPad full of Season 2 of The Affair and a bunch of books and magazines. And I’m fairly well medicated. Not too shabby.