So on Tuesday I was meant to be having my re-scheduled procedure which had been cancelled already around 6 weeks ago. On Monday afternoon, I received a voicemail message whilst I was at work telling me again that my surgery for Tuesday had again been cancelled due to the “bed situation” still not being resolved.
Having to go through the mental process of keeping myself strong and seeing a light at the end of the tunnel with the one cancellation, let alone to experience the same thing again is something I would not wish on anyone. I was absolutely gutted (no pun intended) and still am.
Dealing with pain is absolutely exhausting; not just physically, but mentally too. You’re at a low before you even have to start the day ahead of you, and yet you still have to go out and fight every day. Having a goal to work towards like surgery in a way motivates you. You know that after the operation and recovery period that, chances are, you’re going to feel significantly better and that the pain will decrease, if not disappear altogether. Mentally, you tell yourself this, and somehow you find the strength to keep up the fight and set your energy reserves in every way to keep on pushing as hard as you can until you have that relief. Having that hope suddenly ripped out from underneath you is a feeling I can’t explain but one of helplessness, frustration and upset. After I received the voicemail message, I rang the hospital back and they explained further that they are unable to give me another date because of the fact that the lack of beds situation has still not been resolved even six weeks on. I expressed my concern and the pain I am having to go through each day and the man explained that he is worried about my situation, but until he can give me another date there is nothing that can be done. Even then, there’s nothing to say that my procedure will not be cancelled for the third time. I broke down at my desk at work and was distraught that I had been taken off the theatre list again; that light at the end of the tunnel once again had just been extinguished right in front of my very eyes, and there was nothing I could do as the situation was out of my hands. Not often do I break down and cry with all this. I have had bowel problems for as long as I can physically remember in my life so I am fully aware of a lot of the situations and trials that it throws at you, but I cried my eyes out uncontrollably for about half an hour straight. Everybody has their limits, and in that second, that was mine.
I am fed up of feeling like I am passing glass through my stoma. I am fed up of having to rely on painkillers which only make me feel disorientated and drowsy and unsettled. I am fed up of having to overthink food and whether I eat or how much I eat, and what I eat. I am fed up of the sore skin around my stoma due to the constant swelling and change in size and shape of my stoma. I am fed up of the unsettled stomach I experience and being woken up in the middle of the night due to horrendous stabbing pains and cramps down my back and around my stoma. I am fed up of the inconsistency in output due to the blockages I keep experiencing; there is either very little or suddenly what I can only describe as torrents of output after severe cramps. Most of all, I am fed up of being given hope and then just being let down by what is supposedly meant to be a health service… What sort of service is that?!
I will be hearing back from my stoma nurse tomorrow once she has spoken with my surgeon and then I will take it from there as to what the next course of action is. For now, I am working as much as I can, taking it easy when I can and surrounding myself with the love and care of the genuine people in my life. My family and boyfriend are absolutely incredible beyond. Without them, I would be struggling so much more.