Alive, but Reconsidering the Condition

Ow. Double Ow. Perhaps, triple Ow with a side of Oooooooo....

What a trying time, albeit less than many experience. Yesterday morning found me completely tired due to lack of sleep and caffeine. But, I donned simple, loose clothing and walked over to the hospital at the appointed hour. The hospital is only a 5 minute walk, so it was no tremendous burden. Since I was caging a ride home, this meant that I didn't have to leave my car and didn't have to bother anyone for a ride at 7:00 am.

They were running behind. No surprise there and, frankly, that didn't bother me. I'd rather have a doctor run behind schedule than have them say "Oh, sorry for the unforseen complications, but your hour is up so get up and out." So, I was taken to the pre-op area about 1/2 hour after my stated arrival time. First, get nekkid and put on socks and hospital gown. This brought the first of the day's problems. Now, I knew that I had to remove jewelry and had removed my necklace. So out I prance only to be told to remove my jewelry. Huh? Earrings and watch. I never take out my earrings and have never removed my watch since the salesperson put it on my wrist a few years ago. I had totally forgotten about them. Now, the earrings were easy, but I really had no clue how to disentangle the watch from my wrist. Neither did the nurse. Or the second nurse. It took a committee to relieve me of my timepiece. Finally, off to my little bed to prepare for slicing and dicing.

Of course you are visited by every person in the known universe and are asked the exact same questions by each. I should remember to just make copies of my responses and hand them to people next time I'm over there for a procedure. So questions, blood pressure, pulse, etc. Then, compression socks. That was unexpected and really unwanted. But, the doctor had ordered them, so the nurse had to struggle to pull them over my legs, raking my tender skin in the process. Argh. So, I am already sligtly crabby when my mortal enemy - the IV - came up on the agenda. I patiently told the nurse about my IV views and that, although most had been fine, a few were bad. She listened carefully and was very respectful of my anxiety. And, of course, she missed the friggin vein. And, she had used a larger catheter, so had to apply pressure for a few minutes after extraction since I was bleeding. So, time for a second trial. She announced that she would use a smaller catheter, which was fine with me. In it went, and....another grand botch job. I have no idea what she did, but I was getting waves of burning and from the wrist down into my hand, it felt like the skin was going to rupture. As this was only a fluid IV, I knew it couldn't be adverse reactions to a medicine. I informed her of my feelings most concisely and she removed the IV. Another nurse was called over to try. She used the other arm and inserted the IV without a hitch. No pain, no pressure, no nothing. El perfecto. But, of course, each IV was preceded by an injection of Xylocaine, so that made a total of 6 sticks already for the morning.

More visitations, more of the same questions. One of the visitors was a member of the anesthesiology staff. For some reason, he latched onto the fact that I had a few incidences of bleeding with surgeries (tonsilectomy and wisdom tooth extraction) and ordered blood tests. Great. More sticking and more waiting. Arggghhhh....

And, of course, no food, no water, no nothing. Uncomfortable, aggravated; I was actually looking forward to being gassed with great anticipation! Finally, the blood work came back (normal for clotting) and I was set to go. The valium was injected and I don't even remember being wheeled away.....

....or wheeled back. From that angle, the procedure was a rollicking success. I'll find out actually if it was a success in a week's time during my follow-up appointment, but at least I have no memory of the actual work. But, I was again irritated by a nurse whose only knew one word - Breathe. Like an aerobics instructor from Hell, she just repeated this over and over. I wanted to say "get this damned mask off my face and I might be able to breathe," but had not the energy. So, I inhaled and exhaled as best I could with the oxygen mask and the discomfort below my lungs until she was satisfied and replaced the mask with the nose-plug oxygen delivery system. There I lay for a time, until I was deemed ready to move to the second recovery room. Whereas the first area had no windows, this room was generous with them. I hated it. The last thing you want when you are off-kilter, crabby, uncomfortable and slightly confused is the big ol' sun shining on you. I wanted a cool, dark cave. I really wanted a cool dark cave when the body heat started to rise. And rise...and rise. First I threw off my blanket. Then the second blanket. Then my sheet. I was hot to the point of being sick and none too happy about the fact.

Finally, a nurse came by and was taken aback by the appearance of me and my cubicle. Bedding hurled around and me, frankly, exposing myself to whosoever might walk by. I explained that I was about to be messily ill from the heat and she understood. Apparently, morphine can do that to you. So, she straightened my hospital garments, procured a wet rag for my head and ice water. I wanted to marry her. Then, she asked if I wanted something to eat. My choices - toast or a danish. Danish? That's all a person needs coming out of anesthesia. I opted for toast and was surprised to find a few bits of actual wheat in the bread. I only nibbled half a piece, as I was having a hard time swallowing, but it was enough to take the edge off the nausea. The water worked quickly to cool me down, also. I was sufficiently comfortable to take an actual nap while I waited for my ride to arrive.

Now, you are, of course, given instructions to do nothing for 24 hours. I promptly ignored these and drove myself to the pharmacy to fill my prescription for pain killers. I was still riding the morphine wave and felt pretty good. Returning home, I examined, as best I could, what had been done to me in surgery. 4 incisions. One around my belly-button, one a few inches below, one a few inches above and one just below my ribs on the right-hand side of my body. Two had been provided with dressing as they were showing a tendency to ooze while I was in the hospital. I was told that I can remove bandaids and dressings this afternoon, but not the steristrips underneath.

The evening proceeded rather well. The pain was more of a discomfort than anything. I ate and drank and felt marginally fine. But the margin of fine was getting slimmer and slimmer as the evening wore on. As the drugs cleared from my system, the discomfort was turning more and more to pain. Not unexpected. What WAS unexpected was the fiasco of trying to lay down to go to bed. I had put off taking my pain medication until right before bedtime (advised so by the nurse). So, I popped my pill a few minutes before laying down and was looking forward to being prone and relieving the pain and stress on the belly. Was I ever wrong. Laying down was so painful I nearly started crying. OMG, was it a nightmare! I couldn't breathe, it hurt and, frankly, it scared me. Getting out of bed was difficult, but I did so and contemplated my options. I could stay up, but I was so tired. I could try and change my sleeping arrangement. I bargained that more head elevation would help, so I got another pillow to put under my head and tried the to-bed ritual again.

Failure #2. Laying on my back was horrendous. With tears in my eyes, I rolled left to get out of the hell-hole and was surprised to find that the new position felt better. I could breathe easier and felt that it just might be comfortable enough to allow me to go to sleep. So, I gave it a whirl and it worked. Mostly. I was up several times to visit the loo, but I was able to get a few hours of sleep between each bladder drainage.

This morning found me hurting again, but at least with some sleep under my belt. Certain positions are more painful than others, and all become uncomfortable after a period of time. Right now, I'm standing in front of the computer and that is not atrocious. I will have to down a painkiller soon, though, as I am starting to get the pain-with-breathing and that is one thing that I really don't appreciate. My bladder is working fine, but I wish my butt would engage. Not one bowel movement since yesterday. And, no inclination to have one either. But, I'm not going to down a Dulco-Lax or anything. Nature will take its course in due time. Also, I am more bloated in other areas. That, likely, is from the stress of the surgery and insult to the innards.

Overall, I'd give myself a C- right now. My painkiller will, hopefully, raise my mark to a B. It will be several days before I make it any higher, but that is ok. What else do I have to do?