After my wife and mum left it was mealtime – I’d missed the main meal of the day at lunchtime, and for evening meal it was bread with assorted meat and cheese and tea to drink.
There was a folder in the room with useful information and instructions for life in the hospital, what the typical day would be like, there was as much bottled water as you wanted, a coffee machine in the patient’s kitchen, you seemed to be able to use a mobile phone as much as you wanted.
The other three beds in the room were occupied – there was one heavily built guy of Polish descent, a slim young-ish Russian and a guy who looked like he had been a sailor – wiry and with a full grey beard.
They were all having intravenous treatment for pain with their discs – none of them wanted this treatment, they all wanted to be operated on but the doctors were insisting on this treatment first - they were all in no doubt that it was useless, the Pole told me that he thought it was ‘Geldmacherei’ – just a money making ruse for the hospital. They were all convinced that they would be back in hospital after a few months of pain at home for the operation they should have been having now.
There was a TV in the room, mounted high up on a wall – the remote control was normally held by the Russian, and the TV was on from breakfast time for most of the day and evening.
Smoking was not allowed in the ward but there was a small smoking area in the garden along the corridor and down some stairs. They asked me if I smoked and sounded very pleased when I said I didn’t – very good, very sensible, they said. However, all three of them disappeared at regular intervals for a smoke, in spite of the garden being covered in snow and the temperature always below zero that week.
The highlight of each day was the visits from my wife and mum - my mum had been due to fly home on the Tuesday but extended her stay for an extra week, until after the operation.
First thing in the morning, normally even before breakfast, were the rounds by the doctor, sometimes doctors, and when it was a senior enough doctor, there could be quite a crowd, with what looked like trainees hanging on every word of the great man (there were some female doctors but all of the senior ones were male).
Rounds over the weekend were pretty quick affairs – it was clearly the senior guys who decided the rota and the junior guys who got the weekend shifts – and there was not a lot to be said, as there wasn’t much in my file except for a couple of X-Rays and that I needed an operation next week and was due a CT scan on the Monday.
I had some painkillers prescribed and was told to stay resting in bed for as much of the time as possible – lying on my back or sides was fine, keeping my back straight was important.
Rounds on Monday were by a quite senior guy with a medium sized retinue. After he’d finished telling me nothing new, I asked if they knew when the CT scan would be today – he said what did it matter, did I have something planned today? The retinue found this very amusing.
After he’d left one of the nurses came in and told me that the doctor had decided I needed to have complete bed rest until the operation, although I would be able to walk to the bathroom when I needed to. The bed rest meant that they were worried I’d get a thrombosis so I had to wear very fetching white stockings for the rest of my stay in hospital and have a small injection in my stomach each evening.
The days seemed to merge into one as the week went on – the CT scan showed nothing new so the operation was set for Friday. I asked the doctor if there were alternatives - he told me that the only option was not to have the operation, and then I'd be in constant pain, the curvature of the spine would deform and I'd end up walking like a crippled old man, so there wasn't any option.
My wife and mum had discovered a small bar and shop in the clinic and broke up their visits with a walk down there while I rested for a while – I got progressively more tired through the week, and this was a good reason for them to go for coffee and cake.
Although most of the time was spent sleeping or reading, I did watch some of the TV, especially the news in the morning, with regular reports of British airports being closed by what looked like light dustings of snow, although to be fair they were also very critical of the disruptions at Frankfurt and the explanation of the Frankfurt airport operator that the problems were caused by the wrong type of snow! The shows in the evening all seemed to be instantly forgettable German remakes of instantly forgettable British or American shows….
Eventually, the week wore on and the operation drew closer and on Thursday afternoon, I had visits from an anaesthetist and two surgeons.
The anaesthetist explained that it would be a general anaesthetic, I would be under for a number of hours but there would be constant monitoring and I could be woken up almost instantly if necessary, he had a long form we went through together about me understanding and accepting the risks and both signed it.
I’d not really thought much about how the operation would be performed so it was a bit of a shock when the first surgeon showed up and told me that there would be an incision from the left hand side of the body, along the ribcage, as well as from the back; this incision from the side would probably mean that they would have to do partially collapse my lung and would have to install a drain in it which would be there for a few days after the operation.
The second surgeon arrived when my wife and mum were there and they listened in, he said that it was the kind of operation they did all the time, and that they would be building a cage around the broken vertebra, using the vertebrae above and below to help support the cage and stabilise the spine so that the broken bone could heal and gain strength; he said that I should try and get as much sleep as possible that night, but I replied that from my point of view it was much more important that he slept well.
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