Tag Archives: sleep

Going Under the Knife (Part 2)

…so, last Friday was the day.

Picked SC up from school and then he (along with my dad) dropped me at the hospital. I gave him a big hug and good night kiss (SC, not my dad), and assured him I would be home before he woke up in the morning.

Oh, how wrong could I have been?

I assumed, my surgery would be around 6pm, wake up about 8pm, recover from the anaesthetic and be up and out of the hospital by 11pm at the latest.

What I didn’t bargain on was the doctor before running late or indeed the effect of the general anaesthetic combined with morphine on me!

Thankfully, whilst I waited in my warm room, I had the television for company – otherwise I would have gone stir crazy. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, just 4 walls.

I met the anaesthetist, who told me what they would do, I kind of glossed over him mentioning the use of morphine, as I was more concerned with telling him to make sure I woke up! And then I met my gynaecological consultant who confirmed what she would be doing.

I was amazed at the number of times I was asked when I last ate, if I had any loose teeth, fillings, metal plates, etc. I know it’s just ensuring everything is dotted and crossed as it should be.

Anyway, I eventually walked down to theatre (not the kind I’m used to entering, even though I was sporting a rather, highly amusing pair of surgical knickers – they were fairly frilly) at 8:25pm.

I lay on the trolley and they inserted a drip in my arm. Now I’ve had general anaesthetic 3 times in the past (tonsils, wisdom teeth and chest surgery), and each time I have felt the cold knock-out drug make it’s way up my left arm and have never got beyond 6 when counting back from 10. This time was the first, and I swear to God the last, time I have had a mask put over my face. It was oxygen and then the knock-out drops got mixed up in there and the last thing I remember was the anaesthetist saying “take a deep breath. Good night!”

Now, I can’t bear anything being put over my face or around my neck (I reckon I must have met a grisly end in a previous life), so being knocked out with a mask freaked me somewhat.

Still, next thing I knew, I was coming round in my room, with a nurse and the consultant at the bedside. I was drifting in and out of consciousness as the consultant was trying to tell me what she’d done – pretty much everything that had been on the list – 2 cameras shoved in at various points, destined to meet in the middle, removal of an ovarian cyst (which was nice and clear, so nothing to worry about), and removal of many polyps, then finally the endometrium removal. Joyous! I vaguely remember her trying to show me the photos as well.

At this point I was more concerned about getting back to SC, but the nurse phoned my mum who said at 11pm at night I might as well stay in the hospital.

I had some very jazzy leg pumps on – they are designed to keep blood pumping around your legs to stop you developing DVT – and they are hilarious. You feel tight squeezes up one leg, and then it releases, before it repeats the squeezing on the other leg. If you can’t get to sleep, the rhythmic quality of it would definitely help.

I was in and out of consciousness for ages, and the blood pressure was being monitored at regular intervals. At one point it must have dipped really low, as the nurse said I needed oxygen. I was alert enough to say not to put it over my face, so the oxygen mask was left to rest on my chest, until the blood pressure reached it normal fairly low level.

It was about 1am when the sickness started. I felt it, pressed the buzzer for the nurse who got to the door and I just said “sick!” and she dived for a ‘friend bowl’ which I pretty much kept hold of all night after that, and most of the next morning.

By about 3am I drifted right off to sleep and woke up, totally alert, about 6am.

Then the Kylie episode started!

I had to go to the bathroom, so the nurse helped me sit up. Oh boy! Was I spinning around? The room didn’t stop – then of course I started being ill again.

It pretty much took me 5 hours to sit upright, never mind getting up and walking.

And because they wouldn’t let me go home until I had managed to eat, and keep down, at least a slice of toast, I had to have an anti-sickness injection.

I eventually left around 2pm and spent the rest of weekend doing very little.

Still, it’s done. Hopefully, I won’t have to have anything else done and my hormones will get back to some kind of normality. I shall await the outcome at my follow-up appointment next week.

Maybe I should go and sit on a mountain-top for 6 months?

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Out of the Mouthes of Babes – The Tooth Fairy

SC lost his first tooth yesterday!tooth-fairy

A milestone in the journey of life.

His tooth has been getting wobblier for a while, but he has been very good and not given it any extra manual wobbles.

He went into school yesterday and then 10 seconds later came back to the door, holding his hand out and looking a tad shocked said “Mummy! My tooth came out!”

Apparently, he had walked into something on the wall (he is totally clumsy, just like his mummy 😉 ). Then “I heard a clanking sound mummy.” (I did not know teeth falling out made a clanking noise! “And then I felt something swooshing around my mouth.”

He deposited the tooth in my hand and left me standing there with his first baby tooth. It was so small and white, like a little pearl. His teacher kindly gave me a tissue to carefully wrap the precious tooth in, and then it hit me.

“Oh no! This means the Tooth Fairy has got to visit.” I had to ask several mums what the going rate was these days – absolutely no idea.

Now, I used to sell the most gorgeous Tooth Fairy kits, which came with a little sparkly box, a story, a pouch and of course some fairy dust. I thought I had a couple left in the depths of the garage, but despite searching high and low, I could not find them. I really must have chucked everything last time I had a clear out of old stock!

So when he went to bed last night, he carefully put the tooth (in a small organza bag) under his pillow.

The just before I went to bed, I replaced the tooth with a £2, and sprinkled some fairy dust in a trail over the floor.

Now the problem was, was that SC was rather excited at the thought of a visit from the Tooth Fairy, which meant that rather like Christmas he was extremely restless and awake pretty much every hour asking what the time was. I turned the light on at 4:30, he looked under the pillow, clocked the trail of sparkle and was very excited. I did tell him the Tooth Fairy gave him double because it was his first tooth. Then, thankfully, he turned over and slept soundly…well for another hour at least 😉

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Out of the Mouthes of Babes – Life

“Mummy”, SC said to me in the car this afternoon, whilst we were waiting to go into an after-school activity, “These last 5 years, it’s been a hard life!”

If I’d have been drinking a cup of tea, I think I would have splurted it all out!

“Why’s that darling?” I asked – after all, he’s fed, clothed and loved, it’s not the kind of hard life I was thinking of.

“It’s been so exhausting,” he replied, “I’m so tired!”

Him and me both! After all, he didn’t sleep through the night until he was nearly 4 – exhaustion doesn’t even come close. So any mum with a new-born complaining at 4 weeks that it doesn’t sleep through the night gets no sympathy from this direction I can tell you. Sympathy kicks in at 18 months, empathy at 3!

“Well, maybe you should just try to have a lie in at the weekends,” I said, “instead of getting up at 5am!”

“Oh no mummy, I couldn’t possibly do that!”

Of course not, silly me for suggesting it 😉


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I lie with you until you are asleep – A Sonnet

I found the link to this in my twitter feed this morning. It is from http://www.the-mule.com/2012/09/i-lie-with-you-until-you-are-asleep.html blog and it is the most beautiful poem I have ever read about what being a parent means:

I lie with you until you are asleep

I lie with you until you are asleep,
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty, often more,
Clocks tick, frustration builds, yet still I keep,
And stay with you on your side of the door.
Out there, my old life tempts, a voice cries, “Fail!”,
And tells me there are better things to do,
The world shrinks down, we both exhale,
And drift together, touching souls, we two.
In age, perhaps, you’ll do the same for me,
And hold my papery hand, and stroke my hair,
You’ll know the worth of love’s proximity,
The gift we give by simply being there.
A final kiss, a sigh, a comfort deep:
I lie with you until you are asleep


It’s the most wonderful thing to watch your children drift off to dreamland, cuddled up in your arms. SC has gone off to sleep this way since the day he was born. And, yes, even after he has drifted off and I attempt to extricate my arm as quietly as possible, I always give him a kiss and tell him how much I love him.



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Do you prefer a hard one, or a soft one?

Take your minds out of the toilet, or the gutter. I’m talking mattresses 😉

I took SC on holiday last week, and we stayed in a charming (?) cottage (well, 1960’s bungalow with shared entrance with the owner to be exact).

But the bed! Oh my God!

The mattress was sooooo soft.

Literally, it was a case of sit on it, it sunk to the floor and you rolled into the middle.

Now, my personal preference is a firm mattress. In fact, the firmer the better.

And after a few days of soft mattress central, my back, and whole body, was literally screaming out in pain and tension, so much, I had to put an emergency call in to my mum to make an appointment at my osteopaths for this morning (I don’t carry my osteopath’s number with me!)

After a session this morning, where I was pummelled, massaged, pulled about and various spinal joints cracked to within an inch of their life I felt heaps better – will be having another session in a fortnight.

But it got me thinking?

What do you if you are in a relationship and you both prefer different types of mattresses?

Now, take me and Mr Wrong No. 1. When I moved in, he still had the mattress he had bought when he first moved out of his parents 20-odd years before. We went out and bought (together) a new bed and mattress – thankfully we both preferred a firm mattress – so no arguments there. Mattress compatibility achieved – obviously the rest wasn’t that compatible, but least said, etc.

Me and Mr Wrong No. 2 was a totally different kettle of fish. He had a very soft mattress, and refused point-blank to even contemplate buying a different one – even though like Mr Wrong No. 1 it was years old. It was extremely uncomfortable. Not as much sagging towards the floor like mine and SC’s holiday cottage one (yes, we co-sleep, problem?), but rolling into the middle.

This proved extremely uncomfortable in the later stages of pregnancy, especially as you’re extremely tired and cannot get comfortable, no matter how hard you try – and as a result get ratty. It certainly did my back no favours, as several trips to the cranial osteopath proved.

But, should I have taken the warning sign about the mattress as a signal that the relationship was doomed from the start?

I know you can get super beds these days, when each side can have a different mattress, but if you don’t want one of those do you compromise? And by that I mean that one will always lose out, because in terms of mattresses, if one prefers soft and the other prefers hard where do you compromise? Sleep is compulsory, and a good night’s sleep fairly essential!

Just a thought!

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