Currently browsing: Scary moments

It’s What They Don’t Tell You

Well, it’s been an interesting experience. I learned that no matter how many times you re-read the literature the doctors give you, talk to friends who’ve had a procedure done, or ask questions of anything and everything you can think of … you’ll still learn a few things. If you’ve ever had any kind of surgery done, some of this is nothing new to you, but it was very new to me and I’d like to share a few things I’ve learned from my surgery and the time spent recovering from it, along with a few things nobody told me. (and partly glad they didn’t! LOL!!)

Waiting, and Pre-Op

It doesn’t matter what time you are scheduled to come in and be admitted, you will still sit and wait. And generally, the length of your wait is proportional to how hungry you are. I remember by the time I was taken to Pre-Op, I was absolutely starving; and I happily shared this with anyone that asked. I remember one staffer who kept walking by who smelled of peanut butter — that drove me nuts!

A few minutes later I was presented an odd purple paper gown and some non-slip socks, and was given instructions as to how to strip down and in which bags each article of clothing should go. It’s not rocket science, but my attention span was already significantly lessened due to my anxiety, and was gone altogether once the nurse showed me where to hook up “the hose.”

Get this … they have a warming unit which connects to the gown via a plastic hose. It was pretty neat, though once I got the air going at the temp I wanted, the gown quickly filled up and inflated, making me feel like I was wearing one of those inflatable sumo wrestler suits. Jim snickered and told me that I looked like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka, and started snapping a few pictures.

Yeah, I was ready for him to go back to the waiting room at that point.

Aggravations aside, I really WAS glad that Jim was there with me. My parents had also shown up (despite my protests against this) and waited patiently out in the main lobby.

Needles!!!

So the time came near to move me to the OR. Another nurse came by to check my blood pressure and pulse again, and was preparing to insert my IV. She commented that my heart rate was “a little high.” I told her that it’s normal, my heart rate has always been “a little high.” She and I go back and forth about this for a little bit until she says, “No, it’s REALLY high!”

My anxiety was already through the roof and at this point, I was nearing panic. The fact that she was holding the really big needle that she was preparing to jab into my arm didn’t help much!

She looks at my face a little funny and asks, “Are you nervous?”

Ding! Ding! Ding! Tell her what she’s won, Bob!

She then pulls out another syringe and tells me that she’s giving me something to “numb” me a bit. It was a much smaller and shorter needle, and honestly after that, I really didn’t care what else she put into me.

Hooray for good drugs!

Not long after I had my IV, my surgeon popped in and asked me if I was ready. At this point, Jim gives me a reassuring arm squeeze and kiss and is directed back to the waiting room. I was wheeled into the operating room and moved from the gurney to the table. A mask was placed over my mouth and someone told me they were giving me “some oxygen.”

And that’s it.

The next thing I know, I’m semi-awake in another room. I remember falling in and out of consciousness and though I can remember seeing a clock, the minutes seemed to pass like seconds. Every time I opened and closed my eyes, 10-15 minutes had passed. Oh, and pretty much everyone that walked by said, “Wake up!”

That got annoying. I really, REALLY wanted to go back to sleep!

I was wheeled into the recovery room and soon after I remember seeing Jim walking down the hallway. I wanted to yell, “Hey baby! Over here! I’m OK!”

All that came out was: “Yeeeep.”

I’m pretty sure I waved at him, but things are a little blurry there. I remember my throat hurting quite a bit. Everyone had told me that I’d have a sore throat when I woke up because they put in a breathing tube. (And I’m thankful it was removed before I woke!)

Tolerate the drink

I’ll say this: once you are in Recovery, you are expected to do only a few things in order to be released:

• Stay awake.
• “Tolerate” liquids. (meaning, keep them down)
• Go pee.

I was having trouble with the first two. There was a monitor hooked up to me so that every time my breathing was shallow (i.e. I was nodding off), it would start beeping really loudly — which scared the ever living shit out of me every damned time!

Secondly, one of the nurses kept shoving a Coke and crackers under my nose, telling me to eat and drink. Despite how hungry I said I was before the operation, I was definitely NOT hungry then! I guzzled the Coke and managed to chew a couple of crackers, which made her very happy. She suggested I try going to the restroom, so I sat up … and then the floor started bobbing and weaving and I turned a little green.

I buzzed the nurse and told her, “I’m feeling very nauseous!” She gave me this really neat thing. I don’t know its official name, but I’ve been calling it the collapsible barf bag, because that’s exactly what it was. I remember thinking, “Hey, I’d like to play with one of these,” when … one of my puny crackers came back to visit.

Yep, apparently the anesthesia made me very, VERY sick.

It was mostly air though, which was a good thing. (I remember being told that they would fill my tummy with air. Was the Coke really a good idea after that?) Despite being a little embarrassed because I was squawking like a duck, I decided that then was a good time to find the restroom. Jim insisted on helping me walk — which was a good thing because I was surprised to find that my legs just didn’t feel much like cooperating at that time. LOL!

Once in the restroom, after assuring Jim that I could make it to the toilet by myself (after all, the wall was holding me up!), I was delighted to find that I could pee. I remember thinking, “I can go home now. Hooray!” There was no more horking or squawking like a duck after that point, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I mostly dressed myself. Jim was such a big help, and I was really grateful to have him there. (even in spite of the jokes)

I was coerced into a wheelchair and taken to the main lobby. Honestly, I had originally protested this, but Heaven only knows how I would have walked there considering that moving at all was a challenge even WITH someone there helping me! LOL

Going home

The trip home was pretty uneventful. I remember talking to Jim about stuff, but have no recollection of what or who we talked about. I vaguely remember picking up my prescription — my surgeon prescribed Percocet for the pain.

Um, yeah. More on that in a sec.

Once again, I was feeling pretty proud of myself; having made it this far without hurling again must mean I was doing well, right? Before we left, I had asked the nurse if I could have another collapsible barf bag to take with me. She thought that was a good idea — I really just wanted to play with it once I felt sober. It turns out, I needed it after all.

We had entered our subdivision and were going slowly through the round-about to the mailbox to grab the mail. We were a whole 15 feet from the house and I lost it. Let’s just say that my stomach was completely empty by the time I was done. Poor Jim was a bit lost and wasn’t sure what I wanted him to do. (Just keep the car still!) I remember being disappointed that I couldn’t play with the collapsible barf bag, but was glad that I had snagged it. (else my car would now be a bit stinky)

We got in and got settled, and I don’t remember much else about that day. I remember being too afraid to eat because of the day’s earlier events and getting up to go to the bathroom was a real adventure (as I was still a bit loopy from the anesthesia and my legs were only semi-cooperating). Jim was a real champ though, anytime I needed anything he got it with no fuss. If I so much as sat up or moved as if I was going to get up, he was quick with a “What are you doing? Where are you going? What do you need?”

It was nice … and obviously a sign that I was still loopy, because any other time I’m all about getting things done myself.

Meds

I took my Percocet like a good girl over the next couple of days and slept pretty much all day Thursday and Friday. I remember the phone ringing a lot. Friends and family called to check on me. (thanks!) I’m pretty sure I was nice to everyone. (sorry if I wasn’t, I blame the drugs! )

I remember speaking to my surgeon’s office and the hospital. I think I told them that everything was “OK” — well, it was sort of. I realized a couple days later that the Percocet really didn’t do anything for my pain. It just made me a little dizzy and REALLY sleepy. Had I been a little more sober, I would have told my doctor this and asked for something better.

My advice to you: be frank with your doctor! If you’re in pain, tell him/her!

It’s not terribly unbearable, but it hurts a bit to bend over or twist. (And getting into the car this morning was interesting. Heh.) I stopped taking my Percocet this weekend and all the grogginess is gone. The pain is still there, but it’s gradually getting better. (and I was told it would gradually go away within the next week or so, so this is not unusual)

I don’t have to do it all myself

Let’s face it, I’m a stubborn woman. I’m all about doing things myself and will only ask for help when absolutely necessary. My husband knows this, and it’s a wonder that he married me anyway. I can honestly say that having Jim home has been a real blessing. He helped me get around when I needed it and took over the household details that I normally handled on the day-to-day. He made sure that Jessie ate good meals, did her chores when needed, and took care of me.

I’m a lucky woman.

Post-op diet

A quick word on this. All of the literature I had received beforehand told me that I needed to be on a liquid diet, moving to soft foods after a week or so. I didn’t care too much for this because let’s face it, the only thing “liquid” that I could have that I enjoyed was jell-o, and even that gets old after one or two meals. I had asked my surgeon during Pre-Op about this and felt pretty smug when he told me that I could eat whatever I “felt up to.”

After I got home, I realized why the literature and everyone else had recommended a liquid diet. When your guts hurt so bad that even moving is too much to handle, you don’t even want to THINK about having to go to the bathroom and do ANYTHING but pee!

Let’s just say that my meal choices became very “selective” after this realization.

Recovering, and thank God for drugs!

Welp, I made it through the surgery OK. My stint in the recovery room took a little longer than expected because the anesthesia made me sick, so they wouldn’t let me leave until I felt that I could keep the coke and crackers they kept shoving under my nose down. (and I almost made it home … incidentally, their collapsible barf bags are neat!) They gave me Percocet, so as long as I keep taking a couple every few hours, I don’t really feel too much pain. Though for some unGodly reason, I thought I could work from home today and tomorrow — what was I thinking? LOL! It hurts to sit up, so I’m taking today off too, and maybe tomorrow, we’ll have to see. Jim was nice enough to set my laptop up by our bed, so I can lay here and surf and type during my “awake times”, hehehe.

So, yeah, I’m doing OK. Moving around hurts like hell, so I’m pretty much just staying in bed (though getting up to go to the bathroom is an adventure, LOL!). The Percocet makes me a little dizzy, so Jim won’t let me walk anywhere or do anything by myself … which suits me just fine, for now.

Thank you all for the warm wishes. With any luck I’ll be up and about in a few days.

Love!

Nicki

Surgery is next week!

I saw my surgeon yesterday — well, actually I saw tons of people. My surgery is scheduled for next Wednesday morning. I’ve already had my pre-admission blood-work done, talked to the anesthesiologist, spoke with several hospital staff who were going to be involved in various things. I’ve been given a list of medications that I can’t take over the next week — but my daily medications have been OK’d, as well as my migraine pain meds. (which I was worried about because I get a headache when I’m stressed and I’m sure I’ll be a bundle of frayed nerves that day)

I was given a pamphlet called “Understanding Laparoscopic Gallbladder Surgery” … it’s on the gallbladder, what causes gallstones, and what will happen during the surgery, that sort of thing. (and I can’t get over how cartoony this thing is!) I’ve got one of those breathing things (called an Incentive Spirometer) that I’m supposed to start using next week, leading up to the day of the surgery and afterwards. Jim had one when he was in the hospital but had forgotten to bring it home with us.

He wants me to keep mine after the surgery so he can play with it.

I’ve been given some funny looking stuff (chlorhexidine gluconate?) to wash my tummy and surrounding areas with the night before. I have several long lists of things not to do or wear the day of the surgery — no makeup, no jewelry, no bra even! (oh yeah, this is going to be fun) Plus Jim is threatening to bring the video camera just in case the anesthesia makes me loopy. He’s heard stories of how entertaining I was when I had my wisdom teeth cut out and thinks I’ll be “hilarious”. (at this rate, I’m going to leave him at home!)

The surgery I’m having is called a laparoscopic cholecystectomy (removing my gallbladder). It’s an outpatient procedure, so if there are no complications I’ll go home that afternoon.

Thank you all for your advice, warm wishes, and prayers. I really appreciate it.

Update on my health …

I just got off the phone with my doctor’s office, they finally received my test results — I have gall stones, and will need to have them removed. They’ll be referring me to a surgeon, I requested Brookwood Hospital because they took care of Jim when he was there. So I’ll be having surgery, and it’s been recommended that I have it soon.

Not that I want to put it off and risk another attack like last week’s!

Thank you to all who’ve sent warm wishes and prayers. Please continue to keep my family in your thoughts and prayers as well … because Lord help me, I’m about to choke my husband!

Nicki

Pain is bad, mmkay?

Looking back, I guess it should have struck me as strange that I wasn’t at all hungry Tuesday evening. I’d taken Jessie to work with me Tuesday and we had Stix for lunch. I just assumed because I’d had a huge greasy meal that I was a little out of sorts from that and didn’t think much about the lack of appetite. Around 2am Wednesday morning I awoke from a sound sleep with an excruciating pain. It hurt from just below my sternum, to underneath just the bottom of both sides of my ribs, all the way down the middle of my belly. It was like there was a huge burning knot in my abdomen and someone was trying to pull it tighter and tighter.

A slight back-track: I’d had this pain before, about 3 weeks ago, but it had only lasted a couple hours so I shrugged it off. This time was MUCH more intense and the pain lasted over 8 hours!

I know, I know … I should’ve had Jim take me to the emergency room, but I’m a proud stubborn (stupid!) woman and convinced myself that I could last the few hours until my doctor’s office opened. I phoned them as soon as they opened and was worked in that morning. I described to my doctor where I hurt and what I’d eaten the day before. She poked and prodded various places around my belly and sides — and even though the tightness and burning was gone, my stomach still HURT LIKE HELL when being pressed upon! She said it’s most likely my gall bladder and scheduled me for an ultrasound.

I had the ultrasound yesterday morning along with a few other tests, and am still waiting to hear the results. I know I’m driving the office staff crazy over there because I’ve been calling about every other hour asking if they had any news for me yet.

The not-knowing is killing me.

Everyone keeps telling me that gall bladder surgery is nothing to worry about nowadays and is “no big deal” … but you know me, I worry about the things I can’t control. Plus, I’m not crazy about being out of work the past couple days and I know that if/when I need surgery, I’ll need to be out more.

It serves me right for not having it checked out sooner I guess.

So, when I know more, I’ll post updates for everyone. Right now, it’s still pretty much a waiting game. If you’re the praying kind, I could really use it — and please include my family, they’re the ones putting up with me.

It’s not personal

Wow, it’s been a week already. I think last week was the longest week I could remember in a long time. *shrug*

I had a chance to have lunch with some of my (now former) co-workers Friday and someone remarked, “Wow, you’re handling this so WELL!”

Well, not really …

I’ve put on a semi-happy face when people are around, but sitting at home by myself, I’ll admit it’s hard not to feel down. I’ve lost all interest in my sites and have for the most part been ignoring my feeds and pretty much all social networks.

I was talking to a friend earlier today and noted that Friday there were some who I’d worked with or for who couldn’t seem to bring themselves to speak to me. I’m sure my getting laid off then being back in the office so soon after made things “weird” for some people. I kept telling myself, “It’s not personal. It was a financially driven decision that had nothing to do with my performance.” (Hell, I even have that in writing!)

But that’s just it … it IS personal. I loved that job. I loved the people I worked with. I even loved some of my customers. I took my job very seriously and always, every day, did my absolute best with pride. How could I not take it personally when I’m told that my position has been “eliminated” and to, “Get your crap and get out.”

Ok, they didn’t really say the last part, but it’s the same if you ask me.

And so I’m taking it personally. I’ve snapped at my family. I’ve cried every time I’d hear from one of my co-workers. I’ve cried every time I’d hear from one of my customers (one of whom gave me an absolute glowing recommendation this weekend). I’ve felt even worse when I check all my job feeds and see no new postings.

And at this point, part of me wishes I had gone into the medical field … there’s never a shortage of jobs over there!

So yeah, I’m not out of “the funk” just yet …

Here I go again … I’ve just been laid off

I’ve always said that you know the situation is bad if you’re called into a meeting and both your supervisor and the head of HR are attending.

That was exactly the case today. I was just about to grab my things and head out to lunch and my boss came by to ask me if I could meet with him for a moment. My first thought was “Am I in trouble?” but couldn’t think of anything I’d done recently to piss anyone off. (actually I’ve been on my best behavior for the most part lately, trying to be a better role model employee and all that … pity)

I sat down at the table and could read the upside-down print on the paper being held by one of the HR people sitting across from me. I read the word “severance” and knew instantly that this wasn’t a good thing. Sure enough, the division has started another round of cutbacks and I’m one of them. I don’t remember much about what all was said to me, but I think I understood most of it.

I remember what irritated me the most: my name was misspelled on the documents. I commented that I knew I was low on the totem pole because half the division could never learn (or make the effort) to spell my name properly. I was assured that wasn’t the case, this was not a reflection of my work, et cetera, et cetera, …

It still stings though. And to be honest, when the state started cutting back last year and then the hiring freeze came, and then they said no raises or bonuses, et. al., I knew that a “low level” position like mine (as compared to the rest of my department) could possibly be cut.

So now here I am … again. Jobless. Feeling a little down, yes, but trying not to be.

I’m sitting here looking over my resume, but honestly I keep thinking about all the designs I did for them that will probably never be used — I really wish I had had the chance to back them up on disk first!

Oh well, at least ONE of my designs are on a public site, and I can put that on my resume.

So … anyone who had my work email address, please email my gmail or nickifaulk.com address from now on.

Oh … and I need a job.

Out of context, out of line?

This afternoon, Jim (unintentionally) gave me quite a scare. When last I saw him this morning, he was going to head by the house then on to work. I remember pulling onto the highway and watching him roll onto the lane going in the opposite direction. Fast forward to this afternoon, John called me at work asking me if I knew where Jim was. “What? He’s not there?” My mind raced. John had spoken to him not long after I last saw him and hadn’t seen nor heard from him since.

Long story short: Jim had sat down “for a few moments” at his desk and apparently had fallen asleep — he had been at home the whole time.

I was able to get a hold of him after calling the house a few times and he explained what happened. I fussed a small bit (not wanting to yell at work) and got my things together to leave for the day. A few co-workers had overheard and came by to make sure everything was ok. I was still pumped up on adrenaline and my blood-pressure I’m sure was through the roof. I jokingly replied, “Yeah. I’m going to beat him upside the head when I get home!”

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I say that in jest. In fact, I say that I’ll “beat his head in” all the time. I don’t beat my husband. I don’t beat my child. I laugh and carry-on, but it is entirely in jest. I do as my mother did — joke about it to keep from pulling my hair out and going crazy.

But what if someone had heard what I said, took it out of context, and called the police?

I ran across a Google Reader item shared by Ike Pigott linking to a post by someone who had something along those lines happen to her. Thordora had (in jest) commented on Twitter about bringing harm to her child, who wouldn’t go to sleep.

What NORMAL parent hasn’t uttered a snarky or humorously ludicrous remark out of frustration, annoyance, and dare I said it … love?

Someone following her tweets had local police notified of the “threat”. Officers arrived at her home and demanded to see her children (who obviously had not been harmed). Understandably, Thordora is upset with this person. (As I would be too!)

To me though, this reinforces something that I had come to realize through my experiences on other social networking services (mainly MySpace and Facebook) — careful who you “friend”.

News of Fravia+

I received an email from Father Luke this morning with news that a mutual friend has fallen ill … Fravia+. According to a post on his site, he was diagnosed a little over a year ago with a tumor — a metastatic squamous cell carcinoma of the neck, to be exact. He has had many months of therapy and will be undergoing various operations and experimental chemotherapy to try to slow the tumor’s growth.

On his site he quotes, “Si sta / come d’autunno / sugli alberi le foglie.” This loosely means “We are as the leaves that cling to the branch in Autumn”, an Italian poem “Soldati” by Giuseppe Ungaretti. It’s about life, fall, uncertainty and things passing by. Fravia+ is uncertain of his chances of survival.

Something that had impressed me — for every occasion, his quotes and teachings contained poignant messages with deeper meaning.

While we’ve lost touch over the years, he is someone I have always respected. You see, way back when I was an “internet youngling”, I considered Fravia+ to be a teacher and friend, and I’m deeply saddened by the news of his illness.

Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

Reflection and call to action

I received a text message from a friend late last night which said:

“Now I know how you feel when Auburn wins.”

Jim woke me up last night to tell me the news. While the three-ring media circus leading up to this event is finally over, I could not shake this feeling of dread. I had to remind myself that even though the man I wanted to win did not, the one that did works for me and the other 300 million Americans who live in this great land!

Taking my cue from BlackFive, I will now stand up and demand that the man in charge listen. And I hope others will do the same.

Demand that President Obama not cut and run from Iraq or Afghanistan.

Demand that President Obama not allow tyrants and thugs to threaten us our the world with nuclear weapons.

Demand that he respect our constitutional rights regarding free speech and gun ownership.

Demand that our “wealth” will not be “shared” with some lazy, no account, welfare dirtbags who would rather have a hand-out than a hand up to something better.

Demand that President Barack Obama respect the sacrifices of the great men and women who keep this nation the last best hope for those that yearn for freedom and keep us from going gently into that good-night.

God bless those who have fought for our freedom to choose who we want to lead us. I think too often we forget how blessed we really are to live as free people. With that freedom comes responsibility, and that my friends, is in OUR HANDS.

“There is no nation on earth powerful enough to accomplish our overthrow. Our destruction, should it come at all, will be from another quarter. From the inattention of the people to the concerns of their government, from their carelessness and negligence. I must confess that I do apprehend some danger. I fear that they may place too implicit a confidence in their public servants and fail properly to scrutinize their conduct; that in this way they may be made the dupes of designing men and become the instruments of their own undoing.” — Daniel Webster

Stand, and be heard.

Next Page »