Hospital Fashion

I am currently in hospital, not hiding! Despite not having any breasts at present, I’d still like to make an effort to look as nice as I can. So ladies and gentleman, with the help of my very talented photographer, Miss H Pike, I bring you, HOSPITAL HAUTE COUTURE:

Massage Socks:

massagelegsAmazing. You get these pre-op and they keep them on for about a day and a half. They massage one leg at a time and stop you from getting DVT. If only every Easy Jet or Tiger Airways plane had these installed.

Compression Socks:

DVTsocks

If you act really healthy and show you can get up and walk around, they take the amazing massage socks away from you and give you these compression stockings. They do the same thing, just nowhere near as cool.

Rabbit Eye Mask:
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They wake you up all the time here, especially during the first night, so the reality is you need to sleep when you can and this pretty thing helps.  It also doubles up as a head band and hides greasy fringes that can’t be washed for a few days. Find it at the Aussie King of night-time apparel, Peter Alexander http://www.peteralexander.com.au/shop/en/peteralexander.

Drain Bags:

drainhandbags

I was wearing these as bracelets on my wrist, until again, I got more mobile and they gave me some floral bags to carry them in. Not very attractive but I guess they are better than exposing the plastic sacks containing the contents of my arm pits?

Comfy, Brightly Coloured Pants from Bonds:

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Avid readers will remember that I wanted to start each day in hospital with brand new, brightly coloured pants so I could begin the day in a positive fashion. Today I opted for purple and white stripes bikini briefs, brought to life with this shocking pink band. http://www.bonds.com.au/womens/underwear/hipster-bikini-244.html#80=3313&142=778

Armpit Cushions:

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The breast nurse left these for me. Not quite worked out what they are for. I think they make sure your drains don’t rub? I dunno, they are purple and shiny though so that’s nice.

Adult Baby Onesie:

OnesieI can’t really get anything over my head, so what better than this button up, adult onesie from, you guessed it, Peter Alexander. The pockets are also deep enough to carry my drain bags,which is supper helpful when getting in and out of bed to travel all of 3 feet to the toilet. http://www.peteralexander.com.au/shop/en/peteralexander/pastel-stripe-onesie

Knitted Bunny Headphones:

earphones

This was a present from work. I haven’t used them yet as I have been too busy pressing the morphine button and blogging about ridiculous topics to pass the time, but they go with the ensemble and people love them! http://www.shop.cottonon.com/shop/product/knitted-headphones-bunny-pink/

OK, that’s it from the hospital fashionista for now.  Hope you enjoyed my style tips from the surgical catwalk.

 

Day One: Surgery Day

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Mr F has told me that I’m only allowed to write a very short blog due to the fact that since I have come out of recovery, I have not stopped and have been bouncing off the walls.  So as he’s been amazing and I need him to do quite a lot for me, I am going to listen to him and limit this blog post to the highlights of today:

  • 5:50am: Alarm call – read messages on Facebook, cried
  • 6:45am: Got to hospital, paid $270 to get a room on my own – it’s more expensive than a posh Travelodge (p.s. I don’t actually have my own room at the moment despite this – but can’t be bothered to write about it)
  • Get changed into my gowns, me and Mr F debate whether I should wear pants for surgery or not. He wins, I put my pants back on
  • Go down to theatre and sit on a bed. About 3 mins later it’s time for Mr F to leave. This is much sooner than we thought. We say our goodbyes, he looks more worried than me. I am wheeled off
  • Starting to get hooked up when my plastic surgeon comes down to tell them he hasn’t marked me up yet.  I walk to a little room, protecting my modesty at my derriere, conscious that I wore terrible pants today. He marks me up with those really toxic pens that people in Merthyr Tydfil use on the weekend… The drugs begin
  • 8am: I’m back and a very charismatic, Maltese anesthetist comes to pump me up. He’s shouting at people to get all number of drugs and, before I know it, unknown substances are pouring into my body, via my hand
  • 08:10am: In the theatre, it’s freezing! It is now that I have a little ‘ARE YOU KIDDING ME’ moment. I have been the most positive patient in Randwick all morning so this is a contrast.  Have a pep talk with myself, which is aided by the anesthetic.  We debate whether I’m going to Miami or Cardiff… I choose Miami … OUT COLD
  • 12ishpm: Wake up in recovery and want to see Mr F. They won’t let me leave until my heart rate goes up – it’s at a worrying low level – I inform them that I am incredibly fit and so my resting heart rate is amazing, and low. After a while they buy this and move me to the ward
  • 3pm: Mr F is waiting for me, he expects me to be woozy, I’m high as a kite and so excited to see him.  Have my first glass of water in 17 hours. The water goes through the gas tubes in my nose
  • I have a support bandage on my chest – looks like one of the boob tubes I was fond of wearing to Astoria when I was 17. Two drains coming out my armpits. A morphine button to my left – ACE
  • Mr F sets me up for any eventuality – WI Fi hot spot, iPad, Heat magazine, mobile phone, laptop

  • 5pm: I get a little Hangry. It’s been 20 hours since I’ve eaten anything. I also start telling Mr F that for breakfast tomorrow I’d like a skimmed latte with fruit and yoghurt for breakfast. He sighs – this is going to be the cue for when I push it.  Note to self, don’t piss off the carer
  • 5:45pm: FOOD! Chicken soup (reminds me of uni), small cheese sandwich, vanilla slice and a cup of tea. Mr F has a sandwich and half the vanilla slice
  • I crash for a second. Food had made me realise pain.  I cry for 2 seconds, press the switch of pain relief love, am happy again
  • 6:30ishpm: I decide to write a blog post. Mr F is not that impressed. My breast surgeon comes to see me. He is impressed, for him, this is a positive thing. He’s going to check on me over the next few days to see if my nipples look like they’re going to survive… Good luck nipples!
  • 6:45pm: I tell Mr F to leave as a) I want to write my blog post and b) I feel bad, he’s been here a while and has done at least 48 patient duties – which he has excelled at I might add
  • Mr F goes to leave and I start crying. Oh

And here I am. Nearly 12 hours with no boobs and everything is OK. I feel like I’ve done one million push ups and my range of movement is really limited, but my head is good and at this moment in time, there’s no regrets.

Back tomorrow. (p.s. this blog aint short, sorry)