Gutted

Another surgery down, only one (big) surgery to go.  What a relief that feeling is! This last one was better and worse in a lot of ways. I know that is a poor way to start out a blog, but it is the truth. So to catch you up this surgery is to get rid of all the remaining girl parts that want to kill me.  There is some fancy name for it but it is an abdominal hysterectomy with fallopian tubes, ovaries and cervix removed.  The ta-tas are gone and partially rebuilt, so now is time to get rid of all those other parts,

Brent and I headed over to Spokane on Tuesday morning, the timing of all which was great and not so great (see a theme here).  Great in the sense that his nephew who had been visiting us flew out of Spokane at 150PM, the negative is my check in to the hospital wasn’t until 130PM.  So timing wise we were able to get Alex to the airport with plenty of time to check in.  The negative was I couldn’t eat or drink (anything!) after midnight the night before.  So considering I was in bed around 9PM that meant I hadn’t eaten or drank a drop in 16 hours.  But I can’t expect the same out of my chauffer and growing nephew can I? So the sweet aroma of coffee tickled my nose for the first couple of hours of the drive, only to be replaced by the mouth watering scent of McDonald’s.  I couldn’t even go in the restaurant and instead opted to walk around the parking lot putting as much distance between myself and the golden arches. To say I was hangry and oh so thirsty would be an understatement.  Who schedules surgeries that late in the day anyhow?

Finally we arrive at the hospital, take our 30 minute march to get from the parking lot to the women’s surgery building and got checked in. As with past surgeries this part seemed quite routine, pee in a cup to make sure you aren’t pregnant (I wasn’t), bathe with these nice wet wipes over your whole body, put on this stylish gown, lay there and meet the endless line of folks who will be working on you, get poked with needles, tell them your name and birthdate 20 times.  Unfortunately, during this time I see my plastic surgeon walk by, who hollars out hi! as he balances a tray full of coffee.  The guy knows how to torture me even when he isn’t trying!!!

So my anesthesiologist and surgeon both come in to talk about options for putting me in the most comfortable state during and after surgery.  They explained to me about a TAP procedure which essentially would put a numbing agent along my current suture line that my surgeon was using to open me back up.  However, after much discussion they felt that my previous surgery of the tram flap would actually hinder the ability for that agent to move through my nervous system and not offer any relief.  So they spoke to me about a spinal tap.  I will admit, and I told them so, that a spinal tap made me nervous.  The thought of poking anything in to my spinal column gives me fears of waking up paralyzed.  Not saying they don’t do this every day, but considering I’m the end of day surgery for them and the amount of caffeine I’m watching them all consume makes me nervous.  One caffeinated twitch and I’m wheelchair bound for sure.  So I caved to peer pressure, agreed on the spinal tap (cuz hey, who doesn’t want less pain at the end of the day), and got wheeled off to surgery.

In the surgery room I had to be awake for the spinal tap, I sat on the edge of the bed as they put the needle in – I screamed really loudly just to mess with them, but it didn’t hurt at all.  We talked about wildlife for a little bit, they had me take deep breaths, and that’s all she wrote.  Next thing I knew I was back in the recovery room, listening to some guy next to me just moaning (again, did a double check to make sure it wasn’t me since this has happened twice in a row).  They gave me my glasses back, finally gave me a few ice chips, and I hung out while they didn’t update my husband (found that out later), and had my vitals stabilized.

This is where it went better and worse than the last surgery.  I was only in surgery for maybe 2 hours (I think actually 1 1/2 hours) but in recovery longer.  When I got to my room and my husband finally was informed where I was and showed up there, he commented that I looked way worse than the first time (that’s true love right there).  What he was getting at that coming out of my first surgery which lasted 8 hours, I had my chest removed and scraped down to the muscle, and then my stomach cut out to replace what was just cut off, he expected (and my brother too) that I would look and feel like crap! Whereas this surgery was go through the existing opening in my gut, and pull out a bunch of stuff that I probably can’t feel anyhow and be done in under 2 hours.  Well, I woke up from this surgery so nauseous and in so much pain it was written all over my face.  Best guess is that they didn’t give me this handy patch behind the ear which helps with nausea (even though I told them about it), and the spinal tap was a big ol’ fail! So I was in my hospital bed that night not sleeping, dry heaving, begging for more pain pills (which they’d given me as much as they could) and choking down saltines and water (more water than saltines).  I was supposed to go home the next day but since I couldn’t keep anything down, looked like shit, and was still in pain I spent an extra night.  I can say that second night went so much better.  Now I had a patch behind my ear, a regular pain regime, anti-nausea meds, and water – even ate some horrible hospital food.

So this is where it actually gets better than the first go round.  They send me home the following day around noon.  I’ve already started to space out my pain meds (rather than every 3 hours looking at 4-6 hours) and enjoy a semi-comfortable 4 hour ride home.  Brent stops to eat (it doesn’t sound appealing so I pass), I pop a couple Tylenol and we make it home by 6PM.  That night I take some more stool softeners, prescription pain pills (only 2 rather than 3) and head to bed by 8PM.  Now the issue with these pain meds is they give me the WORSE dry mouth ever.  And I am up throughout the night not so much to deal with pain but because I can’t swallow due to lack of spit.  I had to get up in the middle of the night to drink a bunch of water, take some pills (less than before) and let the cat in. But here is where the true better comes in. The following day (a Friday), I am walking around the house, a little bit around the yard, not taking anything but Tylenol, not having any drains to be stripped, and although feeling like I have the world’s worst menstrual cramps, which is ironic considering they removed all the parts that would cause those cramps, I don’t feel bad. By Saturday, the 3rd day I’ve been home, I slept through the night on just Tyelonol, walked to my gate, visited my chickens and took a ride up to my neighbors to do some more visiting.  Here on day 4 I’m coherent enough to write a semi-understandable blog.  If healing keeps going like this I’ll be able to return to work in 2 weeks rather than 6 (which being such an extrovert is very exciting for me). I just need to make sure I fake this long enough that Brent continues to cook all the meals, clean the house (he shampooed the carpets the first full day I was home, what a guy!), weed my garden and get out of FLT. But at the same time I’m just waiting for that other shoe to drop.  I’m guarding my pain pills closely to make sure they aren’t taken by nurse Jackie before I need them, but if things continue to go along this path – I will be dancing at my nephew’s wedding in 5 weeks.

So one more surgery under my belt.  What I’ve learned is that having nothing done to you before the age of 46 makes you realize how little you know in regards to your medical tolerances.  Every time I have a procedure done I discover something new that I am allergic to.  During chemo I had a reaction to one of those drugs and grew Popeye arms, during my last surgery discovered I was allergic to Oxy which caused me to itch (and have nausea), this surgery I was allergic to Chlorperazine which caused severe flushing and itching.  Hopefully we have uncovered all of my allergies and the rest will be clear sailing.

So here’s to a quick recovery time so that I’m strong and healthy for the next night of the knife on June 28th.