The saga of fighting cancer continues. I had a new twist to contend with over the weekend.

On Saturday, I developed a cellulitis infection as a surgery complication. The infection symptoms medical caregivers tell you to look for post-surgery were not the ones I was experiencing, so this infection came as a big surprise.

Cellulitis is a nasty infection that spreads quickly. It requires high dosage antibiotic intravenous drugs to start ridding your body of the toxins that have attacked it.

Coupled with discomfort of the infection, remnants of mastectomy surgery side-effects, and some heavy duty antibiotics and painkillers, my body feels like it’s under attack by multiple enemies. The antibiotics and painkillers are doing their job, but they have made me drop-dead tired.

It’s early afternoon as I write this blog. I don’t have enough energy today to get out of my pj’s and have a shower. I’m that tired. This type of tiredness is new to me. I’ve have never felt this kind of fatigue.

My surgeon says this is a normal symptom that I am going through with post-surgery recovery and infection fighting, which is compounded by strong antibiotics and painkillers. He also forewarned me that I would experience an even greater fatigue than this in chemo treatments that are likely to come.

This unexpected chapter in living with cancer began when I went to get medical attention for the infection. I ended up in the same emergency ward that I attended a couple of weeks ago following my surgery.

It was quite a different story this time. There was no partying “cast of characters” in this episode, except for one. She was on some kind of mind altering substance and thought she was at a different emergency hospital. She was initially seen and was waiting for her test results in the ER waiting room. Once she realized she was at a different hospital, she walked out the door and did not return. Her name was called for the follow up to her tests, but she was not to be found. One surmises that she went to the other hospital’s emergency ward.

This time, our wait in emergency was one hour vs. 11 hours from our earlier encounter two weeks ago. This time, the visit resulted in an admission over the weekend in a hospital that was different to the one in which I had my surgery.

Hospital surgical wards are interesting places. They have their own sounds.

There are the feet shufflers and the hackers and hurlers who deal with surgery complications. There is a multitude of visitors and their voices. There is the buzz of beeping machines, and the rhythmic sounds of medical pumps administering medicine to patients. The nighttime sounds of a surgical ward do not mirror those of daytime. It’s quieter. Overnight sounds you hear include witnessing the moans, snores, and nightmares of roommates that you don’t hear in the daytime.

On weekends, the hospitals are often filled with part-time staff, residents, and interns who are your primary caregivers. Senior medical staff is on call if their services are needed.

Over the course of the two days that I was in hospital, three different surgeons on call reviewed my case, but only one came to see me. The primary care was in the hands of a senior surgery resident along with interns specializing in surgery. One surgeon on call directed the senior surgery resident and an intern on how to handle my case during the emergency room’s examination. This surgeon did not see me.

A second surgeon supposedly was the one who admitted me into the hospital late Saturday night for treatment of a spreading cellulitis infection. I did not meet him until Sunday afternoon when he came to see the infection on my surgery site.

An intern who was in the ER when I was admitted handled the Monday morning medical rounds. Later that day, a third surgeon signed my discharge papers and issued me my prescriptions for home care.

The discharge nurse tells you upon discharge from the hospital after surgery, that if you have any complications you should to report to any emergency ward for attention. We chose a hospital that different from the one where I had my surgery. It was closer to home, and the commute with an infection discomfort and horrid fatigue was easier to handle than going to the surgery hospital at the opposite end of the city.

Regrettably, we should have made the longer trip, as the other hospital is the home of my surgeon and his colleagues. I had an infection follow up appointment with my surgeon yesterday. Intuitively, I got the sense that my emergency and continuity of care would have been better delivered by him or one of his colleagues at the surgical hospital vs. trusting it to others at another facility.

This is another lesson learned in my cancer treatment and care. As my infection is still causing complications, my surgeon has given me his after hours contact info and wants me to call him directly at any time if I need further care. He will take care of me at the hospital in which I had my surgery. I am comforted and relieved to know that I can bypass emergency wards and a lack of continuity of care in helping me to recover by dealing directly with my surgeon.

I am working on trying to regain the use of my right arm, which lacks mobility and strength because of the mastectomy. My surgeon would like to have my mobility improved and supports physiotherapy, acupuncture, and massage to improve muscle injury, tension, and restriction. These have worked for me in the past with long-standing chronic neck and shoulder mobility problems.

The addition of my affected surgery muscles will be a new challenge for my physiotherapist. We will embark on physio treatments starting tomorrow. In time, I expect that I will be able to return to restful sleep once again after the infection has passed, my stiff muscles become more pliable, and my muscle tension headaches cease.

I’m trying to get more rest than in the past so that I can continue to recover from the surgery and infection. I will blog when I can.

In the meantime, I keep my chin up and continue to fight this cancer battle with Strength, Courage, and Determination.