Pleasant greetings everyone.
Going to the hospital might not be the best of experiences for most people as they dread the smell of antiseptics, disinfectants and most of all the smell of mixed blood. For some, going to the hospital means bad news and they would do all it takes to not go there. I had a childhood friend who would immediately get well whenever he heard that he would be going to the hospital, anytime he was sick. It worked like magic and he would truly be alright 😁😁.
In this blog, I'll be sharing my best experience in the hospital. I know it sounds quite like a paradox but hold your horses, relax and take a ride with me.
My best experience in the hospital is always when the doctor comes out of the operating room with a smile on his face, telling everyone around that his work was successful and that the patient is out of danger. These words are like music to my ears.
You see, for someone who has been on the operating table three good times and have also stayed with a patient that needed surgery once (that was my mum), you can understand why I value that one sentence from the doctor's mouth.
I remember clearly the third surgery I had about nine years ago. It was for appendicitis. Plus, there was also internal bleeding since the appendix had ruptured and all that. The doctor that was to operate on me looked at me on the bed and discovered that I was looking pale. So he asked for a nurse to take my blood and run a PCV check, just to be sure. In medical terms, PCV stabds for Packed Cell Volume and it is alao referred to as hematocrit. In lay man's lingua, it is a test done to know the amount of packed red blood cells in a given volume of blood.
Now, for a healthy adult, the PCV range should be between 35% to 54%, for a person to be cleared as having a healthy PCV level but mine was very low after the test. It was as low as 12% and that changed my case to an emergency surgery. Luckily I'm blood type O positive and there was a lot of that blood type stored in the blood bank. The fear hung on the fact that my blood count was low and anything could happen.
The guardian who accompanied me to the hospital was immediately asked to sign the 50/50 life or death document and I felt my hert begin to race. Wierd thoughts began to run through my mind. "Oh no, is this how I'm going to die?" Or "won't I get to watch my daughter grow up?" These were some of the thoughts that ran through my mind.
Soon, I was wheeled in to the operating room, given two shots of anaesthetic on arms and I was asked to count to ten. I doubt I really got to ten before I slept off. When I woke up, I was already being wheeled into a ward and two blood bags for transfusion were inserted into my arms. By morning, I had already take three pints of blood and I was recovery fine. Another PCV test was done and from 12%, it iincreases to 32%. My guardian told me that the doctor said the surgery was successful and I was out of danger.
I'm sure those words were the best words he heard whem he brought me to hospital. When I see the way families break down in painful emotions when they lose their loved ones, my heart breaks but the joy on the faces of those with a loved one whom the doctor has confirmed their surgery successful is always a delight. Hence my favourite experience at the hospital is always when the doctor is able to save the life of a sick patient.
Thank you all for reading. This is my response to the #decemberinleo initiative for day 9.
Images used are mine.