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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.

Rest in peace, dear friend, Fravia+

I came home tonight to find a message from Father Luke bearing sad news — Fjalar Ravia, the man better known as Fravia+, has passed away. I had posted a while back with news of his illness, and he had posted a Spring Update letting everyone know of some promising news, but it seems that his tumor had metastasized.

I’m currently sitting here reading his Sour ‘n Sweet Swan Song — his final message — and am a blubbering soppy mess. Though we had lost touch over the years, I have always considered him a mentor, and most of all, a friend. Fravia+, I will miss you very much.

Please pray for his loved ones left behind in these sad times.

Nothing yet is good, right?

Things have been so hectic, it hadn’t dawned on me that I hadn’t posted in a while until this afternoon. I had originally planned to post some things this passed weekend, but my headaches from Hades had other plans in mind. I’m just now catching up on last week’s and this weekend’s emails, so if you haven’t heard back from me yet … you will, just give me some time!

There’s still no word yet on whether or not we got the loan for the house. We were turned down by our current mortgage company (how screwed up is that???), but that’s ok because the rate on that loan was outrageous. We’ve been told that things look good with the new place, so I’m hoping like mad that we’ll get it, but the suspense is killing me. ;P

Oh well … no news is good news, right?

Humpday Hilarities

This one was sent to me by one of my co-workers:

Colonoscopy

This is from newshound Dave Barry’s colonoscopy journal:

I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.

I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn’t really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, ‘HE’S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!’

I left Andy’s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called ‘MoviPrep,’ which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America’s enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.) Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes – and here I am being kind -like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, ‘a loose, watery bowel movement may result.’ This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don’t want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, ‘What if I spurt on Andy?’ How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn’t thought of this is, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, ‘Dancing Queen’ had to be the least appropriate.

‘You want me to turn it up?’ said Andy, from somewhere behind me. ‘Ha ha,’ I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling ‘Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,’ and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER

Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald on the subject of Colonoscopies. Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous… A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. ‘Take it easy, Doc. You’re boldly going where no man has gone before!
2. ‘Find Amelia Earhart yet?’
3. ‘Can you hear me NOW?’
4. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’
5. ‘You know, in Arkansas, we’re now legally married.’
6. ‘Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?’
7. ‘You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out…’
8. ‘Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!’
9. ‘If your hand doesn’t fit, you must quit!
10. ‘Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.’
11. ‘You used to be an executive at Enron, didn’t you?’
12. ‘God, now I know why I am not gay.’

And the best one of all …

13. ‘Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there? so she will quit telling everyone that I have Cranial Rectal Inversion & Optarectalosus’

Wow, I am going to hate moving!

Jim and I met with the realtor and builder’s rep yesterday. We signed a contract on the new house (which is of course contingent on us selling ours first) and put down the “good faith” earnest payment. So now we’ve got to go double-time on getting our current house ready to sell. We’ve basically got a week and a half to get most of our stuff moved out, all necessary fixtures replaced, the house painted, the carpeting replaced, and anything else that we think will help it sell faster.

I don’t have pix of the new house up. I took some yesterday using Jim’s cell, but they didn’t really come out (serves me right for not checking his cam settings first!). We’ll be going by there later this week, so I’ll take the “good camera” and get some proper shots taken and posted.

OMG, we’ve got so much to do!

Unfortunately my stress levels have been slightly elevated lately. I’ve had to double-up on my migraine pain meds, as I’ve had a headache pretty much every day lately. I’ve been a little snippy when I haven’t meant to have been.

God bless my family for putting up with me.

I’m dreading the actual move itself, but will be SO happy when all of this is over and done with!

I’m going to take the plunge

I was talking with a very good friend earlier today and our conversation turned to something that has been a “weighty” subject with me lately. We were looking at some pictures Jim had taken at Christmas. I asked, “Is that really how I look?” She sweetly assured me that she would LOVE to be my size and that I am “worrying about nothing.”

Oh sure, she’s 6 ft tall and gorgeous! Granted she’s what you might call “big boned”, but she’s also got all the curves that (IMO) a “real woman” should have. I admit it, I was envious — and I was appalled.

I know I’ve touched on it now and again on here, but I hadn’t actually verbally shared my weight fears with anyone, outside of my husband and my doctor. I eat pretty well, but I could do better. I know I don’t exercise enough, and I could do better.

My biggest problem has been my appetite. When my doctor had put me on Topamax for my migraines, it did wonders! It changed my taste for soda, helping me kick that bad habit for good (even to this day, cokes still taste a little “funny” to me!). It also stifled my appetite, helping me cut out all the snacks that I was constantly going for every afternoon and night. But the Topamax did little to help my headaches, so I was put on Amitriptyline.

The Amitriptyline has helped to significantly cut the frequency and severity of my headaches, but it has also doubled my appetite! What used to fill me up (before going on ANY meds) now does little to satisfy me. So in the course of a year and a half, I’ve undone what took two years for me to gain in both desirable weight and shape.

Because you know, it’s not just about the number on the scale!

Anyways, I’ve been looking into several products to help me out in that area, and I think I’ve finally found something that I could take to help me get back on track. Anoretix. While the website has the same fantastic claims as the others, I have seen a good bit of good feedback from people who have used the product. I have talked to my doctor’s office and it doesn’t interfere with any of my current medication, but I was advised to start out taking half of the recommended dosage.

I haven’t bought it yet, but I have spent the last few days reading various complaint and diet/drug review sites to see what others who have taken it have said. I did see that they have an unconditional money back guarantee (minus the shipping, of course) and that does impress me a bit … so if I try it and it doesn’t work for me, I’m only out the shipping cost in the end.

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