Oh dear oh dear oh dear… Never mind, all over now.
Two week anniversary, I went to local GP practice for removal of the 25 staples. My incision curves from the side to back of thigh/butt. Nurse suggested it would be best done while I stood. I could see that access would be difficult to impossible if I lay on my back, and I wasn’t sure that I was supposed to lie on my side, so I didn’t argue. I told her I I had a history of low BP and fainting, so I wanted a chair close by so I could sit down if I felt dizzy. OK. She said “Some people feel a little sting”. OK. She set to work on the first staple. Yow, yow, yow. Very painful. She said, that one is in very deep, I’ll do some of the easier ones and come back to it. More very painful tugging and after an age of agony she said triumphantly “One”. One! Out of 25! I gritted my teeth. 4 more, some of them not too bad. I began to feel hot and nauseous. Having a mask on didn’t help. Then I began to get dark shapes round my vision that I recognised from the blackout episode after my first THR. I said, “I’m going to faint, I need to sit down right now”. I managed to sit down, got my head as low as possible, the nurse lifted my feet and I clung on. Next thing I know there are about 5 anxious faces around me and they are about to pick me up by legs and arms and swing me onto a trolley. “No No No” I said “My hip, don’t pull my leg”. I was so scared that they might dislocate the joint.
To my great relief they backed off. It got better after that, they let me regain my senses in the chair and then stand myself with crutches and shuffle to lie down on the bed, where the nurse got the rest of the staples out without too much pain. The nurse said I was looking a lot better and had my colour back. I asked, had I been very pale? She said, no, grey. She said it had been quite alarming, as she couldn’t find a pulse, so she had called the crash team, but then I snorted and came out of it. They allowed my husband to come in from the car park and sit with me until I felt well enough to get up, then sat me up gradually, helped me to a wheelchair and I got home ok and soon felt better.
The nurse said the staples had been unusually tight but the wound was very good and the tight closure should produce a much less visible scar. Well, speaking as someone whose thunder thighs have not been seen in public for decades, the beauty of my scar didn’t feature anywhere on my list of priorities. I had dissolving stitches last time and that scar is absolutely fine.
But anyway, it’s behind me now and, apart from a bit of soreness at the incision, I feel fine.