JustJo
Cambridge Counsellor
As some, albeit very few, of you will know, I had surgery on Friday. I'm writing this 'account' on Word, for my own benefit and memory, really, but am also writing it with a mind to posting it on here, as I know how 'thirsty' I was for information on cosmetic procedures before going through with it myself, so I figure that this may help someone to gain more of an insight.
I initially lost five and a half stone from February 2005 to July 2005. I then lost a further stone and a half towards the start of this year, taking me into the middle of a healthy BMI, and a size 10. With this, I was left with loose skin - mainly on my stomach (I've had two kids, too). I initially approached the NHS about this, over a year ago, but, despite being recommended by my GP and the surgeon, was turned down for funding.
So, I eventually decided to go private. After losing more weight this year, I thought 'in for a penny, in for a pound', and thought I may as well get my saggy inner thighs done at the same time. I'm a teacher, so the start of the summer holidays seemed like wise timing, to avoid absence from work. I did have to delay this slightly, due to a work conference in Chicago at the start of the hols - hence the Friday August 1st date.
I got to the hospital at 7.30am Friday, ready for the 8.30am scheduled surgery. I was pretty much ready to do a runner back out of there by the time the surgeon started drawing all over me, but I managed to restrain myself! All the staff were fab, though - all I can say is that I could really tell I was in a private hospital.
I was wheeled downstairs, and think I went 'under' at around 8.45am - 9am. When I woke up, I immediately looked at the clock, and it was 2.45pm. I remember just thinking, 'how can it be quarter to three? Where's the day gone?'. I suppose I could've figured out about what time I'd be coming round, if I'd done the maths beforehand, but it seemed so odd to me, at the time. I didn't feel like I thought I would, though - like I'd been knocked out, then immediately woken up. I did feel as though time had actually passed, if that makes sense. I hadn't really known what to expect, as I'd never had surgery of any kind before. The surgeon said that the actual surgery took around five and a half hours - half for the tummy tuck and half for the thigh lift.
I felt incredibly nauseous when I came round, and was scared about how much it'd hurt my stomach if I was actually sick. The nurse took my oxygen mask off, and gave me a anti-nausea pill to dissolve on my tongue. I was wheeled back up to my room and was told I'd need to have the oxygen back - thankfully they allowed me to have a nasal one, rather than the horrible mask again!
I sent off a few "I survived!" texts, then had a bit of a snooze. I felt a little better after that.
I have to say, I did have a fair few 'What the feck have I done?!" thoughts, that night and the next day. I was hooked up to a drip, a self-administering morphine thing, oxygen, blood pressure and pulse monitors, and I had a catheter plus two drains from my stomach. I couldn't move at all - not even to stretch out to reach anything. I was very struck by the fact that this was major surgery I'd been through, and that it was perhaps wrong to put my body through such trauma for something that wasn't actually 'necessary'. On the other hand, the pain was nothing like as bad as I expected. My stomach muscles were (and still are, although not as much) really sore, but the surgeon did pull them back together, as they'd been separated following my pregnancies (apparently very common), so I suppose that was to be expected - I know how much it hurts if you just strain a muscle! I had a bit of a cough for a few days (due to the anaesthetic), and I really couldn't actually cough, as it was far too painful! The rest of me was just numb, to be honest, and I couldn't feel much else at all.
The surgeon popped in, as did the anaesthetist, and another member of the surgery team, who I can't for the life of me remember what role he played.
I remember one of the staff talking to me about having a sandwich instead of a full meal, since I felt sick, and me thinking she was flippin' bonkers even mentioning food! By the time she brought it at around 6.30pm though, I was starving (I suppose I hadn't eaten for almost twenty four hours), and was wishing I'd asked for more food!
I slept funny that night, as I was woken every couple of hours for monitoring, but also kept dozing and waking anyway. My drip was removed, but the nurse then began uming and ahing over it, as my blood pressure was a bit low. She left it off in the end, anyhow, and just hassled me to drink more.
...
I initially lost five and a half stone from February 2005 to July 2005. I then lost a further stone and a half towards the start of this year, taking me into the middle of a healthy BMI, and a size 10. With this, I was left with loose skin - mainly on my stomach (I've had two kids, too). I initially approached the NHS about this, over a year ago, but, despite being recommended by my GP and the surgeon, was turned down for funding.
So, I eventually decided to go private. After losing more weight this year, I thought 'in for a penny, in for a pound', and thought I may as well get my saggy inner thighs done at the same time. I'm a teacher, so the start of the summer holidays seemed like wise timing, to avoid absence from work. I did have to delay this slightly, due to a work conference in Chicago at the start of the hols - hence the Friday August 1st date.
I got to the hospital at 7.30am Friday, ready for the 8.30am scheduled surgery. I was pretty much ready to do a runner back out of there by the time the surgeon started drawing all over me, but I managed to restrain myself! All the staff were fab, though - all I can say is that I could really tell I was in a private hospital.
I was wheeled downstairs, and think I went 'under' at around 8.45am - 9am. When I woke up, I immediately looked at the clock, and it was 2.45pm. I remember just thinking, 'how can it be quarter to three? Where's the day gone?'. I suppose I could've figured out about what time I'd be coming round, if I'd done the maths beforehand, but it seemed so odd to me, at the time. I didn't feel like I thought I would, though - like I'd been knocked out, then immediately woken up. I did feel as though time had actually passed, if that makes sense. I hadn't really known what to expect, as I'd never had surgery of any kind before. The surgeon said that the actual surgery took around five and a half hours - half for the tummy tuck and half for the thigh lift.
I felt incredibly nauseous when I came round, and was scared about how much it'd hurt my stomach if I was actually sick. The nurse took my oxygen mask off, and gave me a anti-nausea pill to dissolve on my tongue. I was wheeled back up to my room and was told I'd need to have the oxygen back - thankfully they allowed me to have a nasal one, rather than the horrible mask again!
I sent off a few "I survived!" texts, then had a bit of a snooze. I felt a little better after that.
I have to say, I did have a fair few 'What the feck have I done?!" thoughts, that night and the next day. I was hooked up to a drip, a self-administering morphine thing, oxygen, blood pressure and pulse monitors, and I had a catheter plus two drains from my stomach. I couldn't move at all - not even to stretch out to reach anything. I was very struck by the fact that this was major surgery I'd been through, and that it was perhaps wrong to put my body through such trauma for something that wasn't actually 'necessary'. On the other hand, the pain was nothing like as bad as I expected. My stomach muscles were (and still are, although not as much) really sore, but the surgeon did pull them back together, as they'd been separated following my pregnancies (apparently very common), so I suppose that was to be expected - I know how much it hurts if you just strain a muscle! I had a bit of a cough for a few days (due to the anaesthetic), and I really couldn't actually cough, as it was far too painful! The rest of me was just numb, to be honest, and I couldn't feel much else at all.
The surgeon popped in, as did the anaesthetist, and another member of the surgery team, who I can't for the life of me remember what role he played.
I remember one of the staff talking to me about having a sandwich instead of a full meal, since I felt sick, and me thinking she was flippin' bonkers even mentioning food! By the time she brought it at around 6.30pm though, I was starving (I suppose I hadn't eaten for almost twenty four hours), and was wishing I'd asked for more food!
I slept funny that night, as I was woken every couple of hours for monitoring, but also kept dozing and waking anyway. My drip was removed, but the nurse then began uming and ahing over it, as my blood pressure was a bit low. She left it off in the end, anyhow, and just hassled me to drink more.
...
