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So someone did notice I was AWOL. Boy, do I have a story for you. Apart from developing glaucoma and in need of cataract surgery, both of which makes typing difficult, I have been beset with a threatening condition which I will now attempt to share with you all.

In fact the experience of the last 4 months or so, may prove intensive enough to fuel a couple of stories.

To give you the background I will tell you here, the true incidents whilst the stories will be fabricated from the experiences.

However, I cannot help but tease you all whilst I relate the horrors that befell me.

Last Christmas day I noticed a small lump on the side of my tongue. It looked like an ulcer and wasn't painful. I decided to wait until my doctor came back from his Christmas break.

I opened my mouth for him as this made it easier for him to examine my oral cavity. I would have offered other cavities for him to probe, but I wasn't in the mood for it.

Like me he felt we should give the "ulcer" a couple of weeks to see what happens. Who knows it might go away. It didn't, but neither did it get any worse. A couple of more weeks and the good doctor sent me to an oral surgeon who told me that the biopsy he performed on the ulcer had returned a positive result. I had a tumour, or something.

That was the day I stopped smoking, February 5th 2016. By March 16th I was in the operating theatre having about a third, perhaps less, of my tongue being cut out. I thought about the priests in the film Land of the Pharaohs who had their tongues removed so that they couldn't tell anyone where the Pharaoh's body was located in the great pyramid.

Deep into a near death anaesthetic coma, my true horror began, The anaesthetic they used was called oxycondone and as I now know it causes hallucination in some people, in particular -me.

You know how, when you have a nightmare, like you dream you have killed the cat instead of the mouse, you tell yourself not to worry because it's only a dream and that you should wake up. Well, the hallucination that the anaesthetic caused in me didn't allow me to recognise that I was dreaming or having an hallucination. I totally believed that the hallucination was real. I was certain that the doctors were trying to kill me, and not being able to awaken only confirmed my drugged out brain that I had to escape their maniacal attempts to murder me. The nurses and student doctors were taking blood from my arms and checking it out to ascertain whether the poison, hemlock, was in fact strong enough to do its job. Then I thought I saw a policeman and I tried to tell him I was being killed. I got hold of my mobile phone and rang home to try to get my hubby to rescue me.

For five days this drug induced stupor slept with me in the recovery room. The fan in the ceiling rotated the ceiling, the room itself and my bed. One night a Hindu general was entertaining his latest wife in a huge cardboard box that was half filled with popcorn. A nurse had allowed two teenage boys with a large dog to sleep behind a door which led to a secret room. Walls shifted a corridor to reveal a new innovation in hospital wards. Move the walls instead of the staff and patients.

There was much more to this hallucination experience, but I think you might have some idea of what it was like and why I have not been posting at AD.

Eventually I was released from hospital and further testing of the tongue shows that not only was all the cancer removed, but it was so successful that I wouldn't need any radiation or chemo-therapy. Follow up reviews of my surgery confirm that all is well.

Back home at last and the hallucinations wander in and out of my dreams into my consciousness. Each day they receded and i have found the devotion of my boyfriend more comforting than ever.

Now I only have to worry about my upcoming cataract surgery and treatment for glaucoma.

For those of you with an interest in Australian 's health system, my total cost was around 2 hundred dollars for subsidised fees for the oral surgeon. Everything else was covered by our public hospital system.

So I guess you will have me around for a while yet.

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So, so glad you're still with us, Des. What a horrible experience, but the result was worth it: we still have you to batter around as we will.

I keep telling everyone that aging isn't for the weak. You're proving it.

Keep fighting the good fight, Des. And know you've got a lot of friends here.

Most of us wouldn't go that far to develop new plots, however.

C

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So I guess you will have me around for a while yet.

That last sentence is the best part of your horrific hospitalization.

What you wrote reminds me to never take oxycodone or oxycontin or hydrocodone/vicodin any of the oxy- or -codone drugs.

Colin :icon_geek:

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And I Hope the loss of part of your tongue hasn't affected your speaking too much... you've always been such a cunning linguist!

:omg:

Colin :icon_geek:

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Some years ago I had a series of three operations, over a period of just under a year. After the first operation, I didn't experience much post-op pain at the site of the operation wound, but I had a terrible migraine headache which lasted a week and made me want to die. I kept asking the nurses who were visiting to change my dressing each day what could be done about it but didn't get a satisfactory answer.

Discussing the experience with the anaesthetist during the pre-op consultation before the second operation, he suggested I may be intolerant to opiates. Apparently they had packed the wound with an opiate, and they sent me home with pills to take to dull the pain too. I'd been taking some of the pills for the migraine but the pills were Tramadol, an opiate similar to Codeine. I don't know what its brand name might be in the USA.

He made a note not to use opiates intra- and post-operatively, and I had no migraine, indeed I recovered from the second op very quickly and with no trouble.

The experience brought to mind an earlier episode, I'd developed a headache when away from home and borrowed someone else's painkillers. I had occasionally used paracetamol and codeine, but this time I was given codeine on its own. Within half an hour my heart rate dropped alarmingly, I became faint and clammy and an ambulance was called to whisk me off to hospital.

So I now steer clear of all opiates. Don't even touch heroin...

Des, you have friends here who love you, who are rooting for you. So glad you're back with us. Hang on in there, cobber!

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Thanks guys, you make me feel wanted.

Bruin, I think you understand what I went through. My medical notes are all ,marked now, "Do not administer opioids."

It is a strange twist of fate that my only recreational drugs have been coffee and tobacco. Now, of course, I have stopped smoking with the aid of a nicotine mouth spray. This is approved by my physicians. Today, I had my yearly checkup with my cardiologist who certified me as medically fit, even if I am still a little fragile. His assessment was most welcome, and I immediately felt better when he told me I should continue to improve.

The reason I have an annual cardiologist checkup is because I was born with a hole in the heart which was repaired when I was 19. The anaesthetics used back in those days was morphine and pethidine, and under their influence all I did was astral project around the hospital without the horrors of oxycondone. Anyway that's the way I remember it, but even so, it was enough for me to never want to try hard drugs. If I need an anaesthetic in the future I think I will recommend an axe.

Thanks again everyone, life sure has its interesting moments. :hug:

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  • 2 weeks later...

Des,

Thank goodness you have come through your recent horrific experiences relatively unscathed and are able to tell us about it.

Thanks to your story, I now understand this must be what happened to our next door neighbour. She was about 80 and suffered from osteoporosis, and about five years ago fell down stairs and had to go for an operation. We visited her in hospital and she was telling us the walls were moving and the decor had been changed while she was asleep (it had apparently been like an Indian restaurant) and the staff were trying to kill her. She wouldn't even let them fetch her water from the cooler. It had to be from the tap where she could see what they were up to. She passed us (illegible) notes to give to her solicitor. We had guessed it was probably the anaesthetic making her even more difficult than usual- even if you agreed with her POV she would still argue with you if she had had a glass or two- but it was extreme even for her. Not being relatives, we couldn't really discuss her case with the staff, but if we had known about the possible side effects of oxycodone we would have said more. She did seem to be coming round after a bit, but died unexpectedly about ten days later after developing some complication. I forget what the complication was but if it involved more opiate painkillers and she had another reaction, I can imagine her body deciding the only way to cope was to shut down.

Bruin -About six months before he died, my partner was given Tramadol as a painkiller. He said they made him feel worse than the pain and he kept vomiting after meals. He put them on the fire.

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Thanks Pedro. Your story about the opiate painkillers aligns with my experience in that I refused the oxycondone injections and caused the nurse much frustration as she was determined that I needed them. She muttered something about the need for the injections as it took too long for the painkiller to build in the body to be effective, and it was best to keep the levels constant. She did not seem to understand that I had no pain, or at least no pain with which I could not cope.

Since leaving hospital some surgeons, pharmacists, and my doctor have all told me that they are aware that some people are susceptible to hallucinations when on oxycondone, and that I must have had a really bad reaction. No kidding?

I am still a little unsteady on my feet, but at least my cognition seems to be intact even if a word I want hides behind a train of thought speeding through the neuron tunnels of my brain to connect to the next available synapse station. Moral of the story is, prepare yourself for a much slower recovery period than the surgeon told you; especially if you are over 70.

Also typing these posts has taught me to warn anyone silly enough to edit my work in the future had best be able to cope with runaway typos and missing words.

I am sorry to hear about your partner. My partner, despite having all the papers and power of attorney was stopped from visiting me in hospital. He caused quite a commotion, I believe, at the hospital information desk. The hospital now knows better than to ruffle the feathers of an empowered gay man.

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I love that, Des, and it's perfect fodder for a short story. How My Parner Was Thwarted, and How He Overcame! I want to read that! It would be full of pathos, humor and drama, with a happy ending to boot!

C

Your up for writing a short I take it?

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Your up for writing a short I take it?

I'll try, but I tire easily, and I still have my slave duties to do for my loving partner whose mom just died at the age of 93. It's been a tough time for him; what with me having ditsy hallucinations and him worrying that I might not survive and that his mom might live forever. It's been a bit of a roller coaster ride on either a hospital bed or a coffin. Some sicko's idea of an amusement park. Ride a hospital bed to the coffin...what fun! :wav:

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