Kara
06-16-2008, 10:49 PM
Sigh.
In case anyone noticed my sudden drop from the face of the planet there, I just got out of the hospital after spending 9 days recovering from emergency surgery.
Last Thursday (the 5th), I feeling fine until the early afternoon. Then I started having really bad cramps. So I took some Midol and went on with life. But the cramps not only persisted, they got worse and worse until the evening, when it suddenly felt like someone grabbed ahold of something inside, dropped a bomb in it, tied it in a knot, and it exploded. We were under a Tornado warning at the time and had tornadoes on the ground in our county, so I was a sniveling, crying mass of Kara huddled up on the floor of the basement. The storms passed without incident, and I could barely move from the pain, so we decided to go to the ER. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I thought maybe appendix, but the pain was on my left side and the appendix is on the right.
The ER doctor thought the same thing. He pressed on my stomach and I howled in pain. I went back for a CT scan, and waited for the doc to come back and tell me he was going to remove my appendix. The doctor came back with unexpected news.
He said my appendix was fine, but that I have Diverticulitis, which is a condition where one develops "pockets" in their large intestine. Food and waste can get caught in these pockets, causing infection, and thus, pain. If left unchecked, it can eat a hole in the intestine itself. He said that at my age, I had to have been born with it, since it is more common in people 40+ and I was the youngest patient he's ever had with it.
I asked him what he could do. He said there were two options. One would be to remove the affected area of the intestine, be set up with a Colostomy bag, and there would be no lifting for 6 weeks. He saw my eyes well up with tears and said that the Colostomy would be temporary, and could be reversed in 6 months. I did not want a Colostomy, and asked about the second option. He said he could pump me full of broad-spectrum antibiotics for several weeks, then when the intestine is healed, go in and laser-repair the damage. But the recovery would take longer and if the situation was bad enough, it would only delay the first option and I would be in pain until then.
I was terrified. My SO promised me it would be okay, that there were far worse things than Colostomies, and reassured me that she would still love me. I knew I didn't have a choice. I needed to be back to work ASAP, and I needed the unbearable pain to stop. I told the doctor to go ahead with the surgery.
They took me back in the OR to get me ready. I remember faces looking down on me, I remember them gently moving me to the operating table and looking up at that giant round (scary) light. They put up boards on each side to rest my arms, I remember several voices talking at once. I remember the world melting away as I was stating the colors of the rainbow (I guess they don't do "count to 50" anymore).
Next thing I remember, I was in a room with more heads over me. They were asking my name and if I knew where I was/who I was. I said that I did. Then someone said, "Look who's here to see you." My SO brought the kids and her mother in (who was going to be taking care of them while I recovered). The doctor told me I had been out for 5 hours. The surgery took 2 hours, but I apparently also have Sleep Apnea, so they had to monitor my O2 stats very carefully because the oxygen levels kept falling too low. The surgeon told me that everything was fine. He said they removed 8 inches of my large intestine. He also said that the rupture was far worse than what they saw on the CT scan, and if we had waited much longer for the procedure, my body would have gone toxic and there was a high probability that I would have died.
They wheeled my bed to the elevator, I remember nearly screaming as the wheels went *thump* over the gap between the floor and the elevator. The next few days were a muddle of people coming and going (friends, relatives, a few of my senior officers from the prison). Time all ran together in my morphine-induced euphoria.
Now, there are some aspects of surgery that you don't see on TV. When you have surgery, they put in a "drain." It's basically a long tube that goes inside you to whatever area they operated on. The end that is sticking out of your stomach is a kind of oval thingy. It's clear, so you can see the blood and fluids draining out of you. They monitor it to make sure you aren't getting an internal infection. Once that runs primarily translucent (more water than blood), they pull it out. This is an evil, evil procedure. It's literally, "1, 2, 3, PULL!" The damn thing is like 10 inches long. I don't know what it's like to be stabbed, but I know how much it must hurt when the blade is pulled out of you.
The tube down my nose and into my stomach was horrible. Every time I moved my head, it wanted to pull another way Having that damn thing pulled out made my nose burn for days afterward.
Catheters are just weird.
I didn't get anything at all to eat or drink until this past Friday (the 13th). My mouth was constantly dry, and every now and then they'd swap my lips and mouth with a little sponge on a stick. That first cup of water I had was the coolest and most refreshing water I've ever had in my life. I don't have much appetite, even since coming home where I can have "real" food. Food just doesn't seem too great anymore. And it scares me now, too.
Oh yeah, on Thursday (the 12th), they had to open part of my incision because I had developed a hemotoma (pocket of blood) that needed to be drained. This was accomplished by pulling a few of the staples, then the doctor stuck his fingers in and pulled it open. I think people out in the parking lot heard that scream.
The nurses and doctors kept commenting on how great I was doing because I'd page them and ask if they could help me up so I could walk. They said they have to fight with most patients to walk. It seems to me that you aren't going to get any better if you don't do what you're supposed to, but maybe that's just me. Or maybe the majority of patients are asshats.
So now I'm home, and it will be at least the end of next week before I can go back to work. I'll just be running cellhouse control rooms, which is fine by me. I feel like I can't hide the bag and that everyone will be staring at it.
I know there are worse things I could have wound up with. I could be hooked up to machines and various tubes for the rest of my life. And, I'm young enough that the Colostomy will be able to be reversed. Still, I can't help feeling disgusted with myself. I know lots of people out there have them, but it's just.... it's me. It's not supposed to be me. I'm lucky to be alive. I know that. But, if I could be selfish for a moment....
:cry:
In case anyone noticed my sudden drop from the face of the planet there, I just got out of the hospital after spending 9 days recovering from emergency surgery.
Last Thursday (the 5th), I feeling fine until the early afternoon. Then I started having really bad cramps. So I took some Midol and went on with life. But the cramps not only persisted, they got worse and worse until the evening, when it suddenly felt like someone grabbed ahold of something inside, dropped a bomb in it, tied it in a knot, and it exploded. We were under a Tornado warning at the time and had tornadoes on the ground in our county, so I was a sniveling, crying mass of Kara huddled up on the floor of the basement. The storms passed without incident, and I could barely move from the pain, so we decided to go to the ER. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what. I thought maybe appendix, but the pain was on my left side and the appendix is on the right.
The ER doctor thought the same thing. He pressed on my stomach and I howled in pain. I went back for a CT scan, and waited for the doc to come back and tell me he was going to remove my appendix. The doctor came back with unexpected news.
He said my appendix was fine, but that I have Diverticulitis, which is a condition where one develops "pockets" in their large intestine. Food and waste can get caught in these pockets, causing infection, and thus, pain. If left unchecked, it can eat a hole in the intestine itself. He said that at my age, I had to have been born with it, since it is more common in people 40+ and I was the youngest patient he's ever had with it.
I asked him what he could do. He said there were two options. One would be to remove the affected area of the intestine, be set up with a Colostomy bag, and there would be no lifting for 6 weeks. He saw my eyes well up with tears and said that the Colostomy would be temporary, and could be reversed in 6 months. I did not want a Colostomy, and asked about the second option. He said he could pump me full of broad-spectrum antibiotics for several weeks, then when the intestine is healed, go in and laser-repair the damage. But the recovery would take longer and if the situation was bad enough, it would only delay the first option and I would be in pain until then.
I was terrified. My SO promised me it would be okay, that there were far worse things than Colostomies, and reassured me that she would still love me. I knew I didn't have a choice. I needed to be back to work ASAP, and I needed the unbearable pain to stop. I told the doctor to go ahead with the surgery.
They took me back in the OR to get me ready. I remember faces looking down on me, I remember them gently moving me to the operating table and looking up at that giant round (scary) light. They put up boards on each side to rest my arms, I remember several voices talking at once. I remember the world melting away as I was stating the colors of the rainbow (I guess they don't do "count to 50" anymore).
Next thing I remember, I was in a room with more heads over me. They were asking my name and if I knew where I was/who I was. I said that I did. Then someone said, "Look who's here to see you." My SO brought the kids and her mother in (who was going to be taking care of them while I recovered). The doctor told me I had been out for 5 hours. The surgery took 2 hours, but I apparently also have Sleep Apnea, so they had to monitor my O2 stats very carefully because the oxygen levels kept falling too low. The surgeon told me that everything was fine. He said they removed 8 inches of my large intestine. He also said that the rupture was far worse than what they saw on the CT scan, and if we had waited much longer for the procedure, my body would have gone toxic and there was a high probability that I would have died.
They wheeled my bed to the elevator, I remember nearly screaming as the wheels went *thump* over the gap between the floor and the elevator. The next few days were a muddle of people coming and going (friends, relatives, a few of my senior officers from the prison). Time all ran together in my morphine-induced euphoria.
Now, there are some aspects of surgery that you don't see on TV. When you have surgery, they put in a "drain." It's basically a long tube that goes inside you to whatever area they operated on. The end that is sticking out of your stomach is a kind of oval thingy. It's clear, so you can see the blood and fluids draining out of you. They monitor it to make sure you aren't getting an internal infection. Once that runs primarily translucent (more water than blood), they pull it out. This is an evil, evil procedure. It's literally, "1, 2, 3, PULL!" The damn thing is like 10 inches long. I don't know what it's like to be stabbed, but I know how much it must hurt when the blade is pulled out of you.
The tube down my nose and into my stomach was horrible. Every time I moved my head, it wanted to pull another way Having that damn thing pulled out made my nose burn for days afterward.
Catheters are just weird.
I didn't get anything at all to eat or drink until this past Friday (the 13th). My mouth was constantly dry, and every now and then they'd swap my lips and mouth with a little sponge on a stick. That first cup of water I had was the coolest and most refreshing water I've ever had in my life. I don't have much appetite, even since coming home where I can have "real" food. Food just doesn't seem too great anymore. And it scares me now, too.
Oh yeah, on Thursday (the 12th), they had to open part of my incision because I had developed a hemotoma (pocket of blood) that needed to be drained. This was accomplished by pulling a few of the staples, then the doctor stuck his fingers in and pulled it open. I think people out in the parking lot heard that scream.
The nurses and doctors kept commenting on how great I was doing because I'd page them and ask if they could help me up so I could walk. They said they have to fight with most patients to walk. It seems to me that you aren't going to get any better if you don't do what you're supposed to, but maybe that's just me. Or maybe the majority of patients are asshats.
So now I'm home, and it will be at least the end of next week before I can go back to work. I'll just be running cellhouse control rooms, which is fine by me. I feel like I can't hide the bag and that everyone will be staring at it.
I know there are worse things I could have wound up with. I could be hooked up to machines and various tubes for the rest of my life. And, I'm young enough that the Colostomy will be able to be reversed. Still, I can't help feeling disgusted with myself. I know lots of people out there have them, but it's just.... it's me. It's not supposed to be me. I'm lucky to be alive. I know that. But, if I could be selfish for a moment....
:cry: