Sub-total parathyroidectomy

Sitting up clutching a sick-pot I felt awful. My arm that had the IV drip taped to it was slowly swelling and turning a vibrant shade of warm blue. Every lymph node close to my skin was vibrant blue. As fast as the dye was pumping it's way in through my veins, I was going through pot after pot, filling each with bright blue vomit. I knew I was dehydrating myself but couldn't stop the flow. What happened next was a blur and the next thing I knew was waking to find my neck in terrible pain. I heard the soft beeping of something to my left and tried to see what it was but my neck wouldn't move. I tried pushing myself into a sitting position and managed with great difficulty to get myself leaning on my left shoulder with my right arm behind for support. I found myself looking into the face of a pulse monitor reading what seamed to be my pulse seeing as no-one else was in the room. 96, good, my pulse was normal. I was suddenly aware of my neck feeling quite heavy and stiff. I reached up to feel almost my entire neck had been covered in thick padding and plastic dressing. I was tired but urged myself to try and sit up more. I fell back from a pain in my left arm. The pain was agonizing and I could just make out the IV still planted within me. A nurse had come to check on my pulse and dressing. Everything seemed fine, she said. "What time is it?" I asked as she checked the pulse monitor. It came out in barely a whisper. What was wrong? My vocal chords weren't working. Frustrated that I couldn't use my voice, I did the only thing I could think of to attract the nurse's attention. I raised my left arm. The pain of the IV triggered a silent flow of tears, but I refused to lower my arm. The nurse caught sight of my tears and lowered my arm while her light shone a beam of light at my face. This time I lifted my right arm to shield my eyes. "What's wrong?" I heard. This time I asked "Where's mum?" I knew she couldn't hear me, even I couldn't hear myself. But if I was lucky, hopefully the nurse would be able to lip-read. "It's late, she'll be asleep" came the reply and I heard her leave the room, tears still flowing from my eyes. What a day, I thought as I rested my arm on the bridge of my nose and closed my eyes.

The next day was not good. I announced that I was feeling nauseous so was given some anti-nausea and was helped to sit up for a drink. 15 minutes later it felt as if I was floating. I could see the tops of heads as well as faces. The doctor was called and I was told that I must have had an allergic reaction. Wow, I thought, two allergic reactions in one stay, woohoo, first Methylene blue and now this. "We'll just have to wait this one off".

Over the next few days I progressed in moving around, although my neck was still very sore and my voice had not returned. Next came one of the parts I was not looking forward to, but at the same time was so delighted about. The time had come to check up on my wound. "Slowly", I managed to whisper. I felt nails pinching my neck trying to grasp a corner of dressing. I reached up to feel a corner of dressing and managed to grasp and peel away a small flap for the nurses to grasp onto. Eventually they managed to pull the dressing free of my skin. Ah, that felt so good, but we weren't done. I sighed in pleasure and shut my eyes as cooling saline was squirted onto my neck and dripped into my ears. All too soon it was mopped up and a new thick wad of dressing was placed on with new plastic dressing.