Have you ever spent any time as a patient in an Intensive Care Unit (ICU)?
Ready for surgery
I was quite nervous about my first ever operation – a hysterectomy, in 2012 – and didn’t really know what to expect. My worst nightmare however was to wake up with a tube still down my throat …
Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened.
I had a brush with death.
Although the operation itself had gone smoothly, once I was in recovery I stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated.
Waking Up in Intensive Care
The first thing I knew of it was when I woke up the next morning in intensive care!
As I gradually returned to consciousness, I felt the nurse stroking my hair, and repeating my name softly.
The nurse filled me in briefly on what had happened, and assured me that everything was fine now – you mean it wasn’t?! What had I missed?!
A doctor soon joined us and asked me a number of what I thought were stupid questions – What year was it? Who was the prime minister? (Apart from anything it was pretty hard to answer with a whopping great tube down my throat!)
I now know that they were checking to see if the lack of oxygen had led to brain damage. Fortunately it seemed I was okay (though some may debate this!)
So what was it like to be in intensive care?
Horrible.
I felt so miserable that when I was first told I’d nearly died, I almost wished that I had.
My head throbbed – it sounds silly and like it would be the least of my worries, but it was agony. I think it may have been a combination of caffeine withdrawal and a remnant of the general anaesthetic. Plus, there was building work going on in the hospital so the noise of the various hammers and drills made my head feel like it was going to explode.
Because I’d had an emergency intubation – obviously not a gentle procedure – my throat was raw and sore – and the tube itself made me want to gag. I knew I was going to throw up but had no way of communicating that to the nurse beyond gesticulating wildly. I felt so helpless as she had to clean me up and change my gown.
Lying on the bed was anything but comfortable – I was hot and sweaty, and the plastic underlay made it feel like a sauna.
My eyes were stinging, and incredibly painful – perhaps another consequence of the anaesthetic. I eventually managed to communicate this to the nurse and she gently wiped them with a damp facecloth. Such relief!
I don’t actually have any photos from my time in intensive care –
this was after I’d been moved to a general ward
I had my own nurse watching over me 24 hours a day, as I was still unable to breath on my own and the machines kept beeping every time I stopped.
I was so groggy I could barely keep my eyes open.
At first I was allowed to sleep, but later they tried to get me to wake up by moving me into an armchair next to my bed. The nurse kept talking to me and it was all I could do to try and focus on her face, without closing my eyes, and not just slide off on to the floor.
As I became more aware, I stared at the clock on the wall. Each minute seemed interminable. Day and night melted into each other. There were no windows, and the lights were always on, so I had no idea of what the time meant unless I was told.
The staff chatted and laughed and although normally this wouldn’t have bothered me, it was agony. My poor head. How I wished they would just SHUT UP!
Family members were allowed to visit for a few minutes, and only two at a time. Their faces were creased with concern, their eyes filled with tears; I was so sick and weak there was nothing I could do to comfort them or let them know I was okay, beyond squeezing their hands when they held mine.
What a terrible fright I had given them all. To think I had experienced a brush with death, and they’d very nearly lost me.
This photo was taken on our son’s 18th birthday, 2 weeks before my surgery
I have never felt so much relief as when that damn tube was finally removed … which meant I was recovering and would not need to be in intensive care much longer.
48 hours after my operation, I had a shower (which was so lovely) and it was only as I stripped off that I realised what a close call I’d had – because there in the mirror was the evidence – the area over my sternum was stained black and blue from the CPR.
At last I was released to a general ward, and only a couple of days after that, I was able to go home.
Waiting to be discharged
I was one of the lucky ones – I only spent a weekend in intensive care.
Now when I hear the news, and reports of accident victims and the like being in “a critical condition”, my heart goes out to them (and their loved ones) – because I know only too well what it is like to be in intensive care …
Have you ever been in intensive care?Save
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