Drains out, the truth you need to know

The very worst, most depressing part of the whole ordeal was the hideous, sickening, blood-filled drains. It was the drains that made me cry all the time. I felt like a cancer patient. I looked like I was dying, that's for sure. If I took the lift downstairs to buy the paper, people would stare in horror and hurry away. 

On the 5th day, it was decided not much was coming out of the drains any more, and they should come out. The job was assigned to a very experienced surgical sister, triple-certificated, who had worked in the Solomons with no doctor to back her up for several years. When operations were needed in that remote area, she was the surgeon's assistant and did a lot of the work. At least I had the best. 

She said it would be best if I got almost-knocked-out by the dreaded Hillbilly Heroin. We agreed to a 5mg first dose, then a further 5mg if I still felt OK after an hour, so that's what happened. That way, if I was feeling it was stopping me from breathing, I could say I didn't want any more.

The drains are not just sticking there on the edge of the relevant bit of anatomy. They are stitched in place, but they go right up inside you, in a half-circle. Several days after they are placed there, tissue has begun to grow onto them and cling to them, so they are well and truly stuck.

To say I was terrified is an understatement. I think in most cases, these evil things ought to be removed under a light general anaesthetic. 

The nurse well and truly warned me about the sensations I would feel. A pulling, tugging feeling, probably quite a bit of pain, some nasty sounds and a bit of a gush of blood.

I'd say it was worse than that. I'd describe it as having a double molar tooth pulled from the middle of your anatomical bits without pain relief. The sound was sickening. It was like a small explosion as the tissue let go of the plastic tube and it pulled free.

After the first one, I needed a few minutes to collect myself. I did yell, but not a lot. I didn't yell for the second one, I was expecting the horrendous feeling and sound.  By the way, removing the 2 stitches holding them in place, which had been stinging me like wasps for days, wasn't painful at all. The stitches part was OK, but not the other part.

Why didn't anyone else's BR blog describe this horrible thing? Well you have got it here.

Think about it carefully. Don't have the bloody operation unless you can handle the removal of the drains without requiring ten years of psychiatric work to recover from the shock.

I don't believe in psychiatrists, but I think it will take me many months, or even years, to even BEGIN to forget this particular nightmare.

After the drains came out, I felt like a real bogan junkie, and had visions of going down to the railway station to 'hang out' and get more of that stuff. Yeah, dripping blood all the way from where the drains had been.