I haven’t blogged in about a year! It’s time to get back to it. It has been a rough 6 months. Heh, hell, it’s been a rough 3 years!
In June of last year, I had decided to have surgery to place a morphine pump. I was so tired of taking tons and tons of pills everyday! It took me about 4 months to make the decision to proceed with surgery. I dreamt that I could have a tiny bit of my former life! All I wanted was or get up early, do yoga, get a cup of coffee, and sit by the window, then drive to work. I thought about that fantasy daily. I counted down the days to surgery. Those good feels ended when I was in pro-op…mere minutes before surgery. I ignored certain signs that should have screamed at me to run. Fast.
Sign #1) As I lay in pre-op staging, the doctor was nowhere in sight. They had to page him over and over and over again to remind him that he had a patient ready for surgery.
Sign #2) I asked everyone, everyday, from the day I started my pre-op testing to the morning of surgery, including every nurse I was in contact with in the hospital. When the anesthesiologist came in to talk to me, he had no idea I had a port. It was such an issue, he said they may not be able to do the surgery.
Sign #3) When the doctor finally come in, he looked at me and started to walk out. The nurse stopped him and asked if he was going to mark the area for the incision. He huffed and begrudgingly snatched the pen it of her hand and barked at me, “what side do you want the pump on?” I told him I didn’t know, that he was the dr. He told me it didn’t matter to him.
I woke up from surgery in intense pain and my stomach was incredibly distended. Maybe I should have chosen the left side.
The nurse in post op tried to tell me this was normal. When I mentioned that theres no way I could wear pants with this, she told me theres a wide selection of yoga pants that look like whatever type of pants I want. I guess I wasn’t going to get honesty in this dump.
When I got home I was still in incredible pain, but I couldn’t eat either. As soon as I took a bite of food, or even a small sip of water, I felt like I was going to throw up. I dismissed it as anesthesia wearing off. It didn’t go away over the next few days. The swelling didn’t go away either.
Over the next 3 days I saw the doctor that put the pump in, as well as a visit to the ER of the hospital that did the surgery…both of which treated me like a drug seeker. Kinda true, I was asking for anything to get rid of the nausea and vomiting. It got so bad, I was sitting on the bed of the ER, vomiting green bile while the floor doctor was doing everything to get me outta there. I kept asking, “Why is this happening? This can’t be normal.” All they could tell me was I was discharged and if I felt things were getting worse to go to the ER, as I was handed discharge papers labeled “Signs of narcotic addiction”.
I vomited non stop over the next 4 days, then finally called 911. They took me to another hospital that admitted me with a small bowel obstruction. 17 days of no food or water, more blood tests than I could count, nasogastric tube, IV nutrition, a quarantine room, unconscious for 14 days.
I was given a 40% chance of survival and was offered the last rites. Twice. While I was unconscious, I was given morphine every 2 hours regularly. “We’re just trying to keep her comfortable at this point” said my nurse to my family.
After 18 days, I was taken into surgery. My family walked behind my gurney and into the sterile operating room to be able to see me, for what everyone thought was the last time.
“She’s okay. It’ll be a long road, but she’ll make it” said the surgeon to my waiting family. So many tears. So many hugs. According to friends and family, the surgeon started telling them what happened and how things went, but it was a blur, they were just happy that I was alive.
I was released, on a normal diet a mere 4 days later and I felt better than I had since before the initial surgery.
The road has been long, but its easier the more I learn how to accommodate this. This body will be fighting for a very long time.