On Friday the 6th February I went for a pre-op with the anaesthetist at Saint Antoine. Just the standard health checks ahead of any procedure, all very quick. I was also able to meet Pr Doursounian for the first time which proved to be very reassuring. Not only that, I met someone else from England at the same time who was also due to be operated on on the same day as me. This has proved to be really useful over the past weeks as I had never met someone with with coccyx pain - and hers was spookily similar to my history of pain. It also helped to have someone else to help negotiate the French hospital system with more easily!
So on Sunday afternoon I was admitted to the hospital. After some dinner, and before bedtime, I saw a a cardboard box on my bed...... a rectal enema - oh the joys! Suffice to say all pretty straight forward - and after laying on the bathroom floor in the foetal position for a few minutes, I sat my self on the toilet and all became clearer, quite literally. Enough said. The purpose was to reduce the infection risk and ensure that following the operation you are unlikely to need to go for a couple of days.
The head nurse came and gave the lowdown on what would happen the next day. I then took the sedative they provided and tried to get some sleep, with the Paris night sky beaming in on me (my window blind did not function).
I was woken up at 5am to the call of 'douche, douche'. Once done I waited around for my departure and finally the porter came and wheeled me off. I was taken to pre-theatre where I was plugged up with a catheter for the drugs and told what was to come. I was first on the list!
Soon enough I was in the operating theatre with the very 'straight-forward' speaking head anaesthetist, who I had met at the pre-op on the Friday. Bit of chit chat, mask over the face, some deep breaths and the instruction to think of something nice and I was out for the count. This was probably about 8am.
The next thing I can recall is very drug induced so I cannot vouch for its integrity! One thing for sure though is that morphine was not as enjoyable as I had been led to believe! I recall waking up in recovery with my bandaged backside pretty much exposed to the world, groaning like a mad cow as the room span around me. Some cursing went on. I am not going to lie, it felt like I had been run over by an HGV.
I must have been there a while as it was12.30 but the time I got taken back to my room and I think the operation takes about 45 mins. I was still pretty out of it and by this time my gown had managed to fall off completely I think! Damn those French nurses. Next thing I knew my wife and mum had appeared and I had a bit of a hug and random chit chat with them before drifting off to sleep on and off for the rest of the afternoon. Pr Doursounian came round for a quick check and brought the offending bone he had removed with him (see below). I had a partial coccygectomy, so in the jar is the end part of my coccyx from the joint that was dislocating. The remaining part, which is fused to the sacrum, was trimmed to tidy it up.
By tea time I had become a hit more copus mentus and was able to go to the loo (the straight forward type). I was still pretty groggy but managed to get some food down me before going to bed. Not a great sleep, but it could have been worse.
I stayed in hospital until the next Sunday, so 7 days in total. I thought I was just in until the Friday, but both myself and the English lady were kept in another couple of days to be sure we were ok for the walk back to the nearby apartment where I stayed for another 9 days, travelling back to London on the train 15 days after the operation.
The remainder of the rest of the week in hospital were what they were. Lots of rest - no wifi or tv so mainly reading, eating or sleeping. Apart from the odd slow wander down the corridor I stayed in my room, and mainly in my bed. I had my temperature and pulse checked every 6 hours and asked for additional painkillers when needed - I declined the morphine and stuck to the paracetamols and pregabalin (which I was already taking, but they increased the dosage of for the week I was there). The Professor came every day for a quick check and chat. He changed my bandage on day 3 when I was also able to have a quick shower. The dressing was also changed on day 6 before I left and the Professor came to my nearby apartment to remove the stitches on day 9, after which I could shower daily.
I was on prophylactic antibiotics and paracetamol drips for 48 hours and then just paracaetmol tablets every 6 hours thereafter. Even by the time of leaving hospital on day 6 I was still very sore. I cannot believe people are often discharged the same day or next morning! I guess you do what you have to do. I went for my first proper toilet on Wednesday, two days after the operation - this was pretty nerve racking so a relief to have it pass in every sense!
I think that covers what happened. In the future I'll talk more about my experience following the operation.
The picture below is a French hospital breakfast with an English twist. Tea only comes in bowls!
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