Back to Square One

June 2009

The wonders of technology meant that I didn’t have to make too many phone calls to give my sad news. All I had to do was write something cryptic on my facebook ┬ástatus, and those in the know could guess.

So back to the old drawing board. I made a call to my surgeon and booked in for surgery at the end of June.

The fibroid was about 7-8cm by the time it came out. The IVF drugs had really kicked it into gear as it had been 3cm for at least 3 years. My stay in hospital was not fun. It was a fancy schmancy private hospital that had cut back it’s staff drastically, and I had aterrible time staying there.

I had advised them that I was gluten and dairy intolerant, but at every meal I was served toast, sandwiches, yogurt, flavoured milk and ice cream. I was starving, but the kitchen staff refused to bring me anything else to eat.

The surgeon came to check on me and said the catheter could be taken out. 12 hours later, it was removed.

I asked for pain meds which were listed on my chart, and the nurse gave me Voltaren, an anti-inflammatory, which should only be taken on a full stomach. As I hadn’t been eating anything, it made me violently ill.

The nurse suggested I have a shower and told me to ring if I needed help. I collapsed in the shower and rang and rang and rang the alarm but no-one came. The patient in the next room could hear me crying and managed to get someone to help.

This was not good care. When I got home I received a feedback form so I wrote it all down and also rang the surgeons receptionist to let them know, as that is his hospital of choice. The head of the hospital rang and listened to me explain in detail what had happened. She was very sympathetic, but didn’t offer to waive the $200 excess I had to pay!!!