16. The Do-over.

On arriving at Peterborough hospital, thankfully without anymore bleeding I managed to lisp my way through an explanation as to why I was standing in A&E reception covered in blood with a duffle bag and a handful of bloody tissues. Sitting in the waiting area surrounded by coughing and sniffing people, it dawned on me all to quickly I had open wounds in the back of my throat and no face mask. So I spend an extremely claustrophobic 15 mins sat in the furthest corner away from anyone as I could with my jumper pulled up over my face. What seemed like forever passed until a man came to the entrance of A&E and called me. I waved and explained I couldn't carry my own bag as I had been told not to lift more than 10lbs after the tonsil surgery. Do not bend, do not lift, do not exert yourself or get stressed ((yeah right!) After telling him in a cubicle what had gone on, what I'd had done, and when, and how I had ended up here, he said he would get someone from ENT to come and look and I just felt relieved to lay back on a bed and rest and know if the bleeding happened again they could stop it. The ENT man arrived pretty quickly had a look, and said someone would be round in the morning and I'd be put onto observations. Fine I thought. But no, that wasn't it until the morning. I had been shown into the 'Fit to Sit' part of A&E and although I explained because of my fibromyalgia, even without the recent surgery , no food, no sleep , and the mental trauma of the last 2 hours no way could I sit in a corridor, on a pull down hard plastic chair for 5 hours, they just basically ignored me. I tried to sit on the chair, but within 5 mins the pain I get in my lower back and coccyx was screaming. So I folded the seat up back against the wall and sat on the floor next to my bag. Very quickly I heard a woman's voice, 'You can't sit on the floor' I didn't even open my eyes, as by this time I was too tired.

'Excuse me, you can't sit on the floor you have to get up now. 'I can't get up because I will fall over, and I told you I can't sit on that seat its too painful' 'Well you can't sit on the floor!'

' Well obviously I can, because I am!'

' You aren't allowed to sit on the floor, so you can't stay there'

I'd lost patience by now so replied, ' I'm dying of cancer so I'll do whatever the f**k I like'

She walked off. I could hear her telling someone I'd refused to get up, and said that I'd said I would fall over if I tried to stand up. About 10 mins later a nurse came and said she'd found me a recliner chair to sit in. So for the next 5 hours I was shoved in what used to be a single cubicle, but now held 4 recliner chairs, all of which were taken by what we can only describe as the more misfortunates of society, drunk, drugged, snoring loudly revealing their body parts, scratching themselves and being basically feed and watered whilst they slept off whatever legal or illegal substance had caused them to be brought here either by police or ambulance. Stuck amongst them I was pleased I hadn't eaten of drunk for hours, as I couldn't leave my things for fear of them being rifled through to find my way to a toilet, and I couldn't take them with me as I wasn't meant to carry anything. So I just curled up as best as I could and waited it out until morning. The painkillers I had found in my handbag had started to wear off by about 5 a.m and I managed to attract a nurses attention for some more but it was only paracetamol and it took the edge off for maybe a couple of hours but by 8am I was in agony. I managed to get the attettion again of one of the nurses and asked for more medication as it had worn off and was refused. At this point I'd had enough. I messaged Mr Amen by email. Got my stuff together and asked them to remove the cannula from my wrist. Standing outside A&E waiting for a taxi in my pyjamas I was sort of frightened that hospital security was gong to come and sort of arrest me and drag me back in, as I hadn't signed a release form I'd just walked out. But it seemed no one even gave me a second look. Although standing outside in the rain in blood covered pyjama bottoms, a jumper and leather flip flops and hair that hadn't been brushed for 3 days in a scrunchy on top of my head was obviously not my usual required standard of being out in public, I realised no one actually cares. No one actually notices. I arrived in this state lugging the bag I'd been told not to carry at the private hospital where 5 days before I had walked in impeccably dressed, and Paul carrying the same bag for me to have my tonsillectomy. I walked straight to the nurses station and breathed a huge sigh of relief that there nattering away was Kirsty, my nurse. ' Can you help me please?'

Kirsty grabbed my bag and took me into a side room and I relayed to her what had happened since the night before, and that I just needed to see Mr Amen. She told me to sit down, stay calm, and she'd find out what to do. Mr Amen had already read my email, and unbeknown to me answered saying he would see me immediately! But Mr Amen was in the NHS hospital that morning from where I'd just left. Kirsty arranged for another taxi, and escorted me back to Peterborough A&E where one of Mr Amen's junior Dr's came running down the hallway to collect me, took all my stuff from me and led me to a room where not only Mr Amen but the head of ENT at Peterborough was and about 6 student Dr's. I explained what had happened, and he had a look and said I needed some steriods, pain killer, IV antibiotics and something to clot my blood and they would be needing to watch me for 24 hours.

' Please Amanda, we might not be able to find you a bed on the ward immediately but please don't be disappearing and getting anymore taxi's anywhere!' He smiled, his calm, reassuring smile, and gave a slight chuckle trying to lighten the mood. So for the next 4 hours I was back in 'Fit to sit' in a recliner, being given IV steroid and antibiotics by one of the nurses who obviously hadn't liked the fact that not only had I left but come back, and was important enough for one of their top surgeons to come and see me immediately. By 2pm that afternoon, still having only had water they came and told me I was being moved to a ward. The relief I felt was unimaginable. I was so tired, I just wanted to lay down close my eyes put in my ear plugs to shut out the noise and sleep. The nurse arrived, pushing another woman in a wheel chair, and gestured to me, I wondered what she meant and she basically said 'get your stuff if you're coming'. I tried to keep up with her, but I was also trying to carry the duffle bag I wasn't meant to carry, push the IV stand with my drips on and navigate, with my walking stick that when I'm tired I have to use because my ankle gives out and I can fall over, from one side of the hospital to another. Half way there she stopped, tutting that I wasn't keeping up and said I could put my duffle bag under the woman's wheel chair. Which I did, and we carried on. Not to a ward but the 'next step up from A&E department' I really didn't care though I just wanted to lay down. The nurse on reception told her 24 & 25 we continued down through the ward to a room, with 4 recliner chairs in it. My heart sank and I just wanted to cry. When I sank down into chair number 25, I even more wanted to just scream, as the chair was solid, no cushioning at all it was like sitting on a piece of wood. I took off my jumper and undid my bag and took out the dressing gown and put in on the seat to sit back down on, I knew I just wasn't going to be able to stand up so I had to try and protect my back as much as I could with what I had. Another nurse came in and asked me some of the normal name, DOB stuff they do when you move anywhere in a hospital. ' And what are your plans going forward from this?' I asked when she went to walk away.

She just looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. The 2 other women in chairs 23 and 24 looked at me. In a very calm and monotone voice I said,

' I have cancer, I had surgery 4 days ago, last night I haemorrhaged from the surgery site, I haven't eaten in 3 days, I've barely drunk in 24 hours and I can't remember the last time I slept, and I am not going to able to sit in this hard chair for very long, as I really need to lay down soon' Both women just stared with their mouths open, and the nurse looked shocked but blank. 'Errrr I'll go and find out for you' I caught the eye of chair 23, incidentally the woman who had been pushed ahead of me in a wheel chair, and I could see the look on her face of 'oh shit I think she should have been pushed not me', and I said 'Sorry about that'. They both made noises of 'no no' and looked at the floor. As I sat there head bowed, I thought to myself maybe it would have better to just have caught the taxi back home last night and taken my chances. That's when I tasted it, the familiar metalic taste. I looked round me immediately, and luckily there was a stack of cardboard sick bowls on the station next to my chair, I grabbed one held it under my face and allowed my mouth to fall open and the blood gushed out and splashed into the bowl and across my pyjamas. I managed to spit before I felt the next surge and said the words ' could someone ring the bell for me please' The woman in chair 23 jumped up from her chair and said something about them taking ages for the bell and rushed out the room dragging her drip stand with her and she was shouting 'you lot better get in here now' The blood was coming faster and faster now, more than the second bleed the night before, huge lumps and clots were forming from the tranexamic acid ( blood clotting medication) they had been giving me, and I was pushing my fingers into my mouth and pulling forward lumps the size of my palm that were blocking my throat and I couldn't breathe. Suddenly the room was full of people, the nurse who I'd asked for a bed not 10 mins before was apologising kept telly me she was sorry, the nurse in charge from reception was calling someone to come urgently, more blood, more retching, my throat was screaming every time I gagged and retched but I knew if I didn't I would choke on my own blood. Then the same junior Dr who had met me that morning and taken me to Mr Amen was in front of me, holding my hands round the bowl.

I looked up at her from under my eyebrows, reached out with one hand and held her forearm, and whilst I continued to let the lumps fall out of my mouth into the bowl, my eyes told her, the same as I had the ambulance man. I'm scared, but I'm not panicking. She asked me if I could walk, to which I nodded and they formed a circle around me, still holding the bowl which had now been swapped for an empty one, and guided me out of the room and into a side room where she asked to have a look and the main ENT surgeon suddenly appeared. They discussed consent forms and I signed one not even able to look, with an outstretched hand whilst still spitting out blood and finally it started to slow down again. I managed to look up for the first time in about 10 mins since being in the room, and there he was. Mr Amen. Hello you, I thought in my head, as our eyes silently met. He explained they were going to take me to surgery again and re cauterise the wounds and everything would be ok after that. Because it wasn't his surgery, the ENT surgeon was going to do it and he asked him if he'd done all the consent etc. Then he told me the anaesthetist would be here any moment and I needed to tell him how last week had gone and about me taking a lot of time to wake up etc. He smiled at me, put his arm on mine and said 'Don't worry everything is going to be ok you're doing really great'.

He looked at the ENT surgeon and said beep me when you're going to start, and as I had come to expect from him as if by magic he disappeared.

That afternoon at about 3pm, sat waiting in a surgery gown in the little side room after arranging with Ella to have Lottie, I rung Paul and told him it would be a good idea to come and drop the dog off on the way. Up until then I had kept everything on a need to know basis as he was at home and I didn't want him to worry. But now I was having surgery again so it was time for him to be here, just in case. I was wheeled into theatre about 3/4 hour later and there standing amongst them at the end of the trolley I saw his eyes over the top of his face mask. In full scrubs Mr Amen stood waiting for me again. I held the hand of a stranger when for the second time in a week the blackness rushed into my thoughts and took away my consciousness and sent me into a sleep with no dreams. I woke up sooner this time, again aware of the sudden pain in my throat and a woman peering over me. To the left hand side I heard him again. Mr Amen telling me everything was fine the operation had gone fine. As I drifted and I felt a person to my right, and I whispered ' He's such a sweety, he really cares about his patients!' and even now I don't know if I was speaking to the nurse, or did I imagine Mr Amen smile to himself as he put back my chart and as if by magic he disappeared once again.