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Wow, I haven't posted in ages... Guess I've just had nothing good to say. This one is partly relayed to me by my mother and partly remembered, so I can't remember all the exact medical details of it all. I try to gloss over the grosser parts, but I don't have a very good groos-o-meter (I'm somewhat desensitised), so please be advised.
I was really young (around 4/5/6) and we (Mum, Dad, Me, Sister 1 - Sisters 2-5 were not born) were spending some time at my grandma's house while we were moving. It was a time of sickness for all. I had recently had my tonsils out and still feeling weak and not eating because my food tasted coppery, and Dad and Sister 1 had some terrible stomach bug. We changed the sleeping arrangements so that Mum and I wouldn't catch their illness, and so I would be near Mum, who had a nice bottle of Calpol (a strawberry-flavoured kiddy pain killer - it was so she could dispense it and I wouldn't just take it myself, which I had been known to do. In my defense, it was delicious).
During the night, I was coughing and had a nasty warm, jellified coppery taste in my mouth. I tried waking Mum, but she just kept telling me to go to sleep. This continued for some small amount of time, before I coughed/threw up what felt like (and looked like) a lung (I believe it was actually a lump of congealed blood or something like that). This happened at least once more during the high-speed dash to the hospital, where I was taken into surgery. It was about 3am at this time.
It seems the surgeon who performed my tonsillectomy didn't seal my throat properly so blood was pouring into my stomach. It explains why I'd been tasting copper and feeling so weak.
Fast forward a few hours, the surgeon is done, I'm awake and seem okay. They transfused some new blood into me and sent me home a couple of days later. I was physically fine, but abnormally quiet and withdrawn and not eating. Three days after getting home, I'm sitting by the window sullenly and Mum comes over.
"Come on, Panda. What's wrong? You're not still feeling bad are you?" (Grandma wasn't exactly understanding about all the blood on the sheets, and had told me off for it when I got home.)
"No... But something's not right."
"What do you mean? The doctors fixed you."
"No, they didn't. I-" I put my hand over my mouth, as if about to throw up again. Mum grabbed a bowl and I coughed into it no less than 4 peanut-shaped balls of gauze!
My family were absolutely livid. My lawyer uncle recommended they sue the hospital, but they didn't. I believe Mum was too stressed with everything else to start up a court case as well. I didn't care because I finally felt better and got to eat meatballs and mushroom sauce.
Sorry if that grossed people out, but now I'm older and reflecting on it, the laxness of both surgeons really scares me. Both situations could have gone much worse. Is this a common occurrence, or did I 'win' the lottery twice? My best friend's going in for knee surgery soon and I'm wondering if I'm worrying for nothing.
I was really young (around 4/5/6) and we (Mum, Dad, Me, Sister 1 - Sisters 2-5 were not born) were spending some time at my grandma's house while we were moving. It was a time of sickness for all. I had recently had my tonsils out and still feeling weak and not eating because my food tasted coppery, and Dad and Sister 1 had some terrible stomach bug. We changed the sleeping arrangements so that Mum and I wouldn't catch their illness, and so I would be near Mum, who had a nice bottle of Calpol (a strawberry-flavoured kiddy pain killer - it was so she could dispense it and I wouldn't just take it myself, which I had been known to do. In my defense, it was delicious).
During the night, I was coughing and had a nasty warm, jellified coppery taste in my mouth. I tried waking Mum, but she just kept telling me to go to sleep. This continued for some small amount of time, before I coughed/threw up what felt like (and looked like) a lung (I believe it was actually a lump of congealed blood or something like that). This happened at least once more during the high-speed dash to the hospital, where I was taken into surgery. It was about 3am at this time.
It seems the surgeon who performed my tonsillectomy didn't seal my throat properly so blood was pouring into my stomach. It explains why I'd been tasting copper and feeling so weak.
Fast forward a few hours, the surgeon is done, I'm awake and seem okay. They transfused some new blood into me and sent me home a couple of days later. I was physically fine, but abnormally quiet and withdrawn and not eating. Three days after getting home, I'm sitting by the window sullenly and Mum comes over.
"Come on, Panda. What's wrong? You're not still feeling bad are you?" (Grandma wasn't exactly understanding about all the blood on the sheets, and had told me off for it when I got home.)
"No... But something's not right."
"What do you mean? The doctors fixed you."
"No, they didn't. I-" I put my hand over my mouth, as if about to throw up again. Mum grabbed a bowl and I coughed into it no less than 4 peanut-shaped balls of gauze!
My family were absolutely livid. My lawyer uncle recommended they sue the hospital, but they didn't. I believe Mum was too stressed with everything else to start up a court case as well. I didn't care because I finally felt better and got to eat meatballs and mushroom sauce.
Sorry if that grossed people out, but now I'm older and reflecting on it, the laxness of both surgeons really scares me. Both situations could have gone much worse. Is this a common occurrence, or did I 'win' the lottery twice? My best friend's going in for knee surgery soon and I'm wondering if I'm worrying for nothing.
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