Okay, so by Wednesday morning, I had got into the swing of taking all my pills and the side effects that come along with them. However, after throwing up for the 5th time that morning, I decided I could no longer take the super-duper pain killer Dihydrocodeine. Man, I felt so bad. Breakfast was definitely a no-go.
At 12pm, I went back to the hospital. The doctor unwrapped my hand and started prodding around a bit. On certain parts that she prodded, it felt as though I had a hard, plastic sheet over that part of the hand. This was the dead skin. I hadn’t dared take a peek yet but by the look on my mother’s face, it was pretty funky looking. So I decided to steal a quick glance as I figured I would have be spending a lot of time with it from now on. This is what I saw:
The yellowy bits are bad bits – the dead skin. RIP.
The red bits are good bits – skin that is still living and getting blood and oxygen to it.
The white wrinkly bits are just from all the fluids from your skin – just like when you’ve sat in the bath for too long because you are reading a really good book and even though the water isn’t even hot any more, you still don’t want to get out. That kind of wrinkly.
After having a good look at my hand, the nurse said she was going to clean my hand. “Great! Relaxing hand massage and manicure!” I thought. Wrong. The nurse first washed my hand under tap water to start getting rid of the gooey, juicy bits. Then using a medical cloth swab things doused with iodine, she starts to gently rub over the injured area – just like a mother would run a baby cloth over for mucky fingers. But instead of a calming sensation, the iodine made me think “Ow!Ow!Ow!Ow!”. I’m not going to lie, it hurts. The stinging sensation is similar to that of thrusting your hand into nettles and rubbing it around a few times. But even at that point, I was still glad I wasn’t taking the Dihydrocodeine. After the iodine scrub, my hand was washed with salt water – which is not painful at all. The salt is so little, there is no pain what so ever. One more scrub with the iodine (“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”) and then my hand gets smothered by Flamazine cream which is lovely and cooling.
I wasn’t really prepared for the next thing the nurse whipped out…no! Nothing like that! She held in front of me a bag. Why did I need a funny looking bag? “Because having your hand in a bag will be much better for you than having it all bandaged up – you need to move it as much as you can before your graft,” was the answer I got after voicing my question.
Great. I’m now Bag Girl.
I was then advised to wear my sling to keep my hand elevated and to avoid swelling and told to come back on Monday.
Despite not being happy with my new look, I knew it was for the best. Stupid bag.