In Stitches...

Stitches in...

... and out of them...

...and out - pyang!

The Knee...

So what went wrong?  Is this good wound repair? All I know is, it's bloomin' sore.

The dressing came off - that's my plaster on there.

I'd been feeling a sharp pulling sensation under one of the dressings, like a hair caught, or something, and that same dressing was starting to peel off, so I bit the bullet, got the biggest plaster I could find, and set to to change the dressing... AAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look what I found. One dressing was half-way across the wound - the adhesive stuck over it, so I trimmed that back. There was a stitch on the other half, not even tidied, and puckering the skin so tight it hurt when I bent the knee.  It's pretty red, too.  I haven't looked at the other as the dressing is still secure.

Hospital...

Keyhole knee surgery... the second one.

Those of you of a nervous disposition, or who are squeamish, then look away now.  No blood – but plenty of guts… …and if this blog makes no sense, then I can blame the after-effects of the GA.

The date for the op came around too quickly – and I have to say I was more than anxious about the anaesthetic, as I took too long to come round last time – have always done so, and it’s in the family, I understand...

Based on my experience when they did my other knee, and knowing I’d be in a taxi door-to-door both ways, I decided to just fling on a tee shirt and my denim Damart house dress, plus a cardi, sox and mock croc’s (both in pink). 

I bought my moby, some tissues, wet-wipes, contact lens stuff, nightie and dressing gown as per instructions, and something to do – my crochet, of course – a light and simple project from a Cath K kit I was given at Christmas.

I was due at the hospital at 8am, so had a local cab booked for 7.30. Both hubby and son were still in bed when I left. It felt a bit strange, creeping out of the house on my own with a bloody great carrier bag. I should’ve picked another bag, but more on that later…

Now, there had been a football match at the stadium down the road the day before, and for some reason there were more fights after the game than usual, and, most likely as a result of all those emergency admissions, there was a chronic shortage of beds for the blokes, so the waiting room was full of 'em, but I was swept up to the ward almost straight away.

Hospital gown, gap at the back, and paper knickers.  Lovely.  A big black inky arrow, too.  After the usual form-filling, I was about the third on the list to go down to theatre, so my crochet didn’t progress much.  They asked when I last ate, and so on, and whether I had any loose teeth or crowns.  Now I’d say that I was lucky. My lovely neighbour gave us a box of toffee choc’s at Christmas, and it was one of those that did for my crown – the tooth had rotted away underneath, and my dentitht hadn’t noticed.  I was cursing, because they’d insisted I went all the way over to the dental surgery for an emergency appointment – crack of dawn, two buses and a train there and back, and he couldn’t remove the tooth as his back had gone and he was in agony.  No, I’ve still got that pleasure to come.  On that day I was home before everyone was out of bed – do you sense a recurring theme, here?  The thing is, though, if that toffee hadn’t dislodged the tooth, then it could’ve come out in theatre, then I’d have been in real trouble, wouldn’t I?

So, I’m trolling down to theatre, in pink fluffy dressing gown, too-big slippers, following the trolley, and unbeknownst to me, building up static electricity as I go. Did you know it was ‘Static Electricity Day?’ It was tweeted, anyway… As I hopped up onto the trolley, one of the nurses copped the zap. It was so loud the entire room heard it.  EEK!

While they were hooking me up to various tubes and monitors, they told me I could now take my contact lenses out.  Well, I tried, but the blood pressure cuff was on so tight I couldn’t bend my arm… got there in the end, though.

After that I was out for the count (but who’s counting?), and the next thing I remember was coming round, slightly, oxygen mask on, but absolutely shaking with cold.  All done.

I was given an extra blanket, and I slept… and slept…  After a while, they sat me up and gave me a drink of water – to see if I could keep it down.  Yep, that was OK… tea and toast, next… one mouthful of each… no-ooo… I was swiftly laid down again and the mask put back in place.

Later - how much later I don’t know - but my lovely nurse looker-afterer came along to sit me up and try again with some more tea and toast.  Well.  Trolleys are highly technical things – all pedals and levers – and before I knew it she had me tipped at a 45 degree angle, a la Wallace and Gromit wake-up machine.  What a hoot!  Luckily I stayed in place – possibly due to the paper knickers, which by now had ridden up spectacularly.  They cost £1 a pair, said the nurse – and 80p’s-worth has now gone up your bum.  Not only did she have a cracking sense of humour (pardon the pun), but she made delicious toast and wonderful tea. What a shame it was wasted…

I was lying there, gazing at my ‘tan’ (that lovely golden antiseptic stuff that they plaster on before an op… they should market it), when it was suggested I got dressed. 

Yeh, I felt a bit wobbly… needed the loo… not a problem… well, OK, it was a logistical nightmare if you must know, but I shall not go into detail – suffice to say that two dodgy knees, long dress, dizzy patient = not exactly easy.

That sorted, I started to slowly gather my stuff, ready to go home.  Oh, no… feeling sick… no-ooo… grabbed the nearest bowl (it was someone else’s), and hobbled towards the loo.  I didn’t quite make it. Why are the bowls so shallow? The stuff hit the base and came up the other side like a Blackpool wave.  I now had vomit in my fringe, and there was more to come.  I managed to get sick up my nose (from both ends – whut?), and filled the sink – tho’ I did clean up after myself, of course.

They honestly didn’t want me to go home, but it was getting on - dark already - and an anxious hubby was waiting, and so they reluctantly discharged me.  I put a new bowl down the side of the carrier bag – just in case – and we walked down to the exit. I knew if I sat down I’d struggle to get up again, as the seats were too low.  I wanted to stand outside, but there was a gaggle of smokers there, so I settled on draping myself on the handrail that ran between the two sets of doors while we waited for a taxi.

The wrong carrier bag...

Hubby asked for a black cab, but they sent an estate car.  That was refused and we waited for them to send another one.  Well, the driver was a 'swooper', and despite my virtually bruising my wrists in an attempt to acupressure the nausea away, I couldn't hang on – and about 500 yards from home I was groping desperately for the bowl.  Hubby stopped the cab, I managed somehow to get out, and I hurled like a drunk while the fare was paid. We ended up walking the last 100 yards home, hubby with the carrier bag in one hand (so, why should I not have picked that one?  It had a huge splodge of lurid green paint on one side from one of son's spray-paint projects), supporting me with the other. I had a soggy sick bowl in my other hand, and a trailing bandage in the crook of my elbow - it had come undone in the rush to get out of the taxi.  What a sight I must've looked…

Well, I did get a rest, as I was zonked, absolutely, but I'll be confined to barracks, in hub's estimation, for 10 days, when I have my stitches out at the hospital.

Baby bear hat - the first.

I wanted to make a baby hat, with ears, for a photo shoot.  I've added ears to things before...

Monster hat

Headphone holder

Little bag

...and the monkey

Bear ears - first attempt

View from the back

Now I wanted to make a fairly realistic animal hat for a baby to wear on a photo shoot. In all but one of the above I'd made two half-circles and attached them as I went along - lying them alongside my 'live' stitches and working thro' both pieces.

I achieved the curve by attaching the ears centre-first, and adding the next stitches out on the next round, and so on.  This worked fine when 'approaching from the rear' as it was fairly straightforward.

 It didn't work so well here. Whilst I loved the ears themselves, I just couldn't get them to sit right. They looked too close together - not even straight - on the first go, so I started again and made the hat in the round.  Now the ears, while quite sturdy, looked pitifully droopy.

Sad ears

So sad...

That's better!

Much more perky

Hurrah!

I had been trying to attach the ears from the centre outwards again, so the ears looked sad, unless the child had his head back - not good. On the last attempt, I attached from the next-to-last stitch to start with, then just bent the ear to where it looked best, and crocheted through both pieces, either from the front or the rear, taking care to match what I was doing with the other ear.
As it turned out, the hat can now be worn in different ways - brim up or down, and even 'back to front' to achieve a different look, depending on the position of the baby.