So right now I feel pretty good. I've gotten in and out of my bed 3 times all by myself. I've made my own breakfast, taken a shower all by myself, started one load of laundry, folded another and got my pill organizer organized for the next 7 days. Oh and I went to 1/2 meds this morning for another trial run....hopefully this time it is successful.
One week ago today I went into what I thought would be a simple, although painful, laparoscopic surgery to repair a massive incisional hernia that I developed after having my gastric bypass 6 years ago. It was obvious to me how large an area he had to repair, but I guess I got my first inkling into the fact the the DR didn't understand, when he came into the pre-op. He asked the question as to whether or not I knew what procedure he was performing. I told him that he was going to fix all my hernias. He said, "All? How many do you have?" I told him that I had hundreds that had basically morphed into one or two massive bulges that stuck out at weird angles as well as at weird times. He lifted my gown and handed me a sharpie and asked me to mark the area where my surgery was to take place....then quickly grabbed it away when he saw I was gonna draw all over my abdomen. So he pushed on one part of my belly and asked if this is where it was....yes as well as here, here and here and over here, too. He asked me to sit up and cough and as I sat up my top hernia buldged out rather nicely as if it knew it wasn't gonna be able to play these games anymore....and the Dr's eyes bulged....but not as impressively. He tried to say some encouraging words as well as explain the extent of the surgery he would have to do. He said he would have to put in a rather large piece of mesh to cover the defects and that it might take longer because they have to roll it up really small and then put it in then use the instruments to unfurl it and get it laid out all nice and smooth and attach it to my abdominal wall with brads. Now the brads he had explained. He would have to put one about every 1/4 inch all around the outer perimiter of the mesh...then moved in about 1/2 way and do another whole circle. He said that it didn't make any difference in the pain of these brads whether or not he re-opened my whole incision or was able to complete the surgery laproscopically. He explained the 4 little holes I would have because of where he would have to insert the instruments. I also remember G asking him how he "knew" that the mesh was in place, etc. He stated that he had a few "tricks up his sleeve" to handle that He finished his little pep talk by assuring us that we'd be headed home the next day.
Skip to waking up and being moved into my room. Can I just say that the transfer from gurney to bed is never pleasant...at least it has never been for me. There are far too many people yelling at you to do far too many things...that you probably would have had a hard time accomplishing even if you hadn't had surgery....but the morphine/anesthesia fog only seems to empower those around you to scream and yell for you to do things that you know if you were in your right mind and body...would tend to get their teethed knocked out! (Just a suggestion....all these beds are on wheels and can be moved room to room....so why don't they move you to your slightly more comfortable hospital bed BEFORE they wake you up?????) I am aware of the fact that I am not in a private room and that I am making a terrible disturbance and feel embarrassed and really want to apologize but in reality all I can think is "Where is that morphine button?" Then I feel them lift my gown to inspect my abdomin (I am allergic to adhesive so no dressings) and starting counting....1..2..3..4..5.....6....oh here's another one....7....no let's count again.....8.....here's another one....9...10....11....12....TWELVE! Another recount. I can hear Gary's astonishment and references to looking like I'd been shot or stabbed over, and over, and over..............At some point....I know it is late at night or early morning...the nurses decided I need to get up and use the toilet. So they graciously help me up (insert scream here) and get me to the restroom which is totally on the other side of the room in my roomate's territory. Obviously she isn't asleep and I just hear this sweet voice telling me it will be all right....take my time....breathe.... I feel such relief that she isn't yelling at me to shut up ... and while I am dutifully trying to do my business...we exchange names. Her name is Maria. After a 45 minute attempt the nurses get me back to bed...scan my bladder and come up with the welcome/dreaded plan to insert a catheter. Welcome....because I know this means no more attempts to get me out of bed....dreaded because....well.....you know.....I have made sure that the morphine button is in my left hand (embedded) so as to not lose it through what is left of the night and fitfully go back to sleep.
Sometime mid-morning of Saturday my nurses (Kelly my cutest RN award winner and Christiana my cutest Nursing Student Award Winner - these two girls were such a wonderful team and so helpful and encouraging. I just loved them!) came in and removed the catheter and got me up several times to attempt the bathroom. I was in excruciating pain and at one point in the bathroom pulled my gown up to look at myself....HORROR! G was such an attentive care giver....always coming up with ways to make things easier...I LOVE how caring he becomes and he's such an advocate for me. We were both struck by how much more extensive the operation had been and how much more pain I was in than expected. He acknowledged what I already knew...there was NO way I was going home today....because there was no way I was letting my morphine button out of my reach! Kelly and Christina made the wonderful decision to re-catheratize me and just encouraged G to get me up every so often for laps around the ward. I went from 1 1/2 laps to 6 laps by Sunday. All met with cheers from Kelly and Christiana...have I mentioned I loved those two?
Of couse as we were going about the painful journey to get me to a place where I could even consider going home....we were getting to know my roomate a little better. The cutest little lady. Sad. Her husband of 30 some odd years had died 6 months before. She has two sons. One is in Afghanistan and the other is in Irag. She was in the hospital because she'd just had stomach surgery for stomach cancer. She was only left alone one time that I can remember....she seemed to have a wonderful list of people who loved her and showered her with flowers and stuffed toys....and stayed with her. It's funny how in the hospital we cheer for things that aren't even discussed between strangers outside of the hospital. Her goal given to her by her DR was to poop. I was trying to pee, she was trying to poo and we laughed and bonded over the silliness of it all.
The 2nd night in the hospital we watched the Nascar race together and then G left to go to the Hotel. I wasn't expected to get up all night...so the nurses just asked me to just try and not sleep on my back the whole night. G had asked me to try and not push the morphine button anymore than I absolutely had to. So I push the button....wiggle and worm my way very painfully onto my right side.....and crash....something had fallen....but it wasn't until about 1/2 hour later I realized it was my TV Remote/Nurse Call button. Because I desparetly wanted to move....I wanted my morphine button and I was in PAIN! It hurt my whole body just to try and reach my arms across my chest....I manuevered the bed a little with my elbow....but I was stuck. So I decided that I could handle this...that when they came in to check on Maria then I would just get their attention, too. The fact that the TV was stuck on some infomercial channel was the least of my worries....although some infomercials mixed with pain and morphine can be quite trying to get through =-) Well darn if Maria wasn't just as comfortable as can be for HOURS as well as her caregiver...I could hear her snoring. Finally, Maria woke up to use the toilet and I waited until she was done before I called out....please push your nurse button.....please.......I was so pitiful! But by the AM I was once again cheered on by G, Christiana and Kelly at how I'd managed to cut my morphine intake by 1/2 the previous night! Whoo Hooo....thanks to my not being able to reach it!!!!
Sunday arrived...morphine pump removed...to be replaced by highly caffienated diet coke. I figuered diet Coke makes me pee always....even to the point of almost not making it to the bathroom....and a few hours later.....success. After saying our goodbyes to Maria....to Kelly and Christina - whose last day as a nursing student was THAT DAY....a very painful attempt to get into the truck....Gary got me home in record time. Thankfully I slept through most of it.
I don't know which one of us went into this procedure with blinders on...me or the doctor....but now....1 week out....would I trade the pain and discomfort to not have been the receipient of Gary's tender, loving, patient care of me? To watch my children lovingly bring meals to us? To have my friend C babysit me this time? To set miniscule goals for myself and watch me reach them (or fail but know I would try again)? I don't know....because 1/2 pain meds is no picnic, getting in and out of bed was a lot easier with G helping everytime, seeing my bulges gone yet replaced by a mass of bruises and stab wounds is quite disconcerting even after a week of looking at them, missing my soon to be daughter-in-laws Bridal Shower because of my inability to recuperate fast enough....oh and knowing that to the depths of my innermost being that the long-awaited "tummy-tuck" will NEVER happen! We'll see.
Why did I write all this down? Probably because in my drug induced state I really believe that you will not read another thing today that is better written or more intriguing than my detailed account of my personal hell. Because in parts of it I really was trying to be funny. And there is nothing more interesting than reading other people's medical stories. Because my memory is such that all these details may be forgotten in the next day, hour, minute.......
Oh...and because I promised Maria I wouldn't forget. Not her....not her sons. We acknowledged we would probably never know the end of each other stories....but she made an impact on my life in 2 short days and I promised I would pray for her and her sons. Please join me in praying for this wonderful, sweet, simple, loving, grieving woman.
