WARNING: LONG DESCRIPTIVE ENTRY AHEAD!
YEAH, I AM BACK! HURRAHHHHH!!!
Yes, that is right, back at work. Still sore, maybe too soon but I couldn't help it. I was going CRAZZZZYYYYY!!!!
Thanks to all for love and support and to my girl posse for being so AWESOME! To Solona and Eryn Christa, Twiggle and Anthony for being such good internet buddies.
I LOVE YOU ALL!!!
SO you want to news huh? Well too bad. I am sick of thinking about it.
Just kidding... I will give you some scoop...
So Dave and I get a call on the 19th. It is the hospital asking if we could come in a soon as possible. I guess things were going pretty quickly. I am thinking this is good because it means I don't have to spend most of the afternoon worrying about it. WRONG.
We get there and they admit me for outpatient, take some blood and we go into the room, I change into the ever-NOT-SO-modest hospital gown and get into bed with warm blankets... yummmm and Dave is sitting there with me making me laugh the whole time. But then comes the nurse with the IV- Super Gatorade she called it. Not fun.
Then we wait, and wait, and wait. Seriously, for like a couple hours. UGGGG.
So yeah, needless to say I was nervous. They wouldn't let Dave come into the holding room with me either and we barely got to say goodbye before they were wheeling me away. Into a dark room I go, they give me something that they say will make me feel a little out of it and very sleepy and then I am getting scared. All by myself in this dark room...
Then I am being wheeled through the halls into surgery, feeling a little doped up. They had a huge group of trainees watching me go. I was a star for a whole 2 seconds.
Then we get into the room and I am moved onto the operating table. I avoid looking around... not that I was very aware anyway.
I told Dave that I was gonna try and countdown from three and fight it and make it all the way to one.
Nope. Didn't happen. I don't remember counting, I don't even remember the needle. In fact, that stuff was so powerful I don't remember the five minutes before then knocked me out.
Dreamless sleep is like no sleep at all.
It feels like a second has gone by and then I am waking up in the OR and I KNOW that I am no longer an outpatient. The doctor confirms...
"We had to cut you open Liz, the cysts were bigger than we thought..."
Okay, so now there are fat little tears squeezing out of my eyes...
And then comes some relief:
"But we were able to save your ovaries... everything went really well."
And here is me: smile, frown, smile and cry.
I want Dave. So I am asking for my husband over and over. I can hear it coming out of my mouth almost involuntarily.
Waking up like that is the worst feeling. It is definitely not of my list of most favorite things.
So I am wheeled out and there is my sweet Dave. Seeing him and the look on his face makes me cry harder. His parents are there too. I know I must look like death because his mom has this shocked look on her face. I guess the doctor didn't bother telling them that they had to cut me open.
Everything is a blur from then on. I am sleeping and waking and sleeping and waking. Nauseous, GET THAT FOOD AWAY FROM ME OR I AM GONNA HURL. And man, if I move a muslce I am in agony.
Thank goodness for the invention of morphine. It was my best friend.
I had a little thingy, with a little button and whenever I pressed it, that sweet nectar of the pain relief gods would drip into my IV and I would fall asleep...
WONDERFUL. If only I could have use of it during those times of the month.
The first day is a blur. I tried to watch figure skating but couldn't keep my eyes open for longer than two minutes at a time.
I guess I had some visitors. I don't remember.
The next day I discovered my catheter. Oh we won't go there... but let me tell you, those things are up there with stubbing your toes and getting your eye poked. Just imagine getting your eye poked over and over. That was about as fun as that.
And then came the mean, mean CTP (Nurses Aid) He told me I have to get up and walk around a bit. I was like:
There is no way I am getting out of this bed. See all these staples? In my abdomen? And this big slice here? And this little one under my belly button here? That happened yesterday. They hurt. ALOT. I shouldn't get up, that would be putting my life in danger.
He didn't even listen to me. I had to get up.
Let me tell you, I hate very few people but at that moment I hated that PTC (Matt) more than anyone else on the face of the earth. He was SATANS SPAWN come to torture me. I thought hospital workers were supposed to TAKE CARE OF YOU. MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER.
He had a trainee with him too. I cried the entire time and was moving at a pace of about 0.00000000001 miles per hour.
I can tell the trainee felt pity on me. She looked ready to cry too.
That was the worst thing I have ever had to do in my life. I would have rather ate a handful of cow brains.
I think I walked a whole five meters and back, getting out of bed, even with the help of two people just about caused me to go into shock. Not to mention I flashed the ENTIRE floor. A bright white moon appeared suddenly on the 4rth floor. Do you think I cared? Nope. Definitely not. I just wanted to scratch Matts eyes out. I remember telling him numerous times that I hated him.
Poor guy, just doing his job.
When he told me that I would have to do this later too, it was a darn good thing I had the mobility of a 120 year old woman because I would have jumped him, I swear.
I also found out at that point that you could only take so many hits of the morphine a matter of minutes.
When they took the bandages off, I almost threw up. I shouldn't have looked.
Anyone who ever said that the hospital was a good place to rest in CRAZY. I got woken up like every half hour so they could take my blood pressure and temperature.
I also NEVER EVER sleep on my back and now I had no other way to sleep. This meant I woke up with back pain that almost surpassed that of my incision.
I learned to hate very early mornings, very quickly.
I had some visitors, and Dave stayed by my side every moment that he could.
My boss came and brought me magazines and crossword puzzles. He had to laugh because he said I kept dozing off mid-sentence. My inlaws came and the across-the-street-like-family neighbors. My good friend Jamie came and stayed with me all day, Melissa... and more that I don't remember very well...
On Thursday, i learned how much I actually appreciated my catheter. When Matt came to say they were going to take it out. I knew exactly what that meant... getting out of bed, frequently. NO WAY. I told him no. Just like that. You are NOT taking it out yet, I am NOT ready, I will pee in this bed I SWEAR! So he went and told the nurse and she said okay but only one more day.
My body got used to the morphine and it wasn't working so well anymore. They switched me over the percocet which seemed to help, but I was still in so much pain. And then on FRIDAY at 5:30AM- NOTE HOW EARLY THAT IS- I was awoken from a deep sleep to two nurses telling me they were taking the catheter out...
The doctor had come to visit me and told me that the operation had gone pretty smoothly. each cyst was the size of an orange! Can you believe that! No wonder I could never get rid of that little pooch!
He asked me if I wanted to go home and of course the answer was yes.
They removed the staples which wasn't as bad as I thought it would be but I did think it was too early especially since it didn't look very closed up! The nurse thought so too but hey, doctors orders...
I took a slow painful shower, got dressed and Dave took me home.
The worst thing happened after I had just gotten into the car, I went to lay the set back because sitting up was still to painful and the stupid thing flew back like it was trying to eject me, coming to a sudden, jolting stop just hard enough to make it feel like I had ripped open all over again.
Ooooohhhh, that was bad.
On Saturday it was back to the ER. Why? Well because the incision was draining and bleeding wayyy too much and I didn't think the steri strips were working and I also couldn't pee. TO SAVE MY LIFE I COULDN'T. My bladder was going to burst so I told Dave to take me in.
More fun, another catheter that I had to wear at home for awhile (I guess the anesthetic does that to some people) and I found out that the insision had clotted at the top without healing properly and had re-opened (DUH!).
This means that every day, Dave has to stuff length of guaze down into this deep hole in my adomen until it closes up. Every day twice a day. The doctor apologized and said it shouldn't have happened but as long as it didn't get infected it was okay.
A home nurse came a few times to check me and show Dave how to change the dressing and so that has become a part of my daily regime.
When I was finally able to pee on my own (Monday) I realized what a joy that actually is!
Seriously- small and simple things bring great joy. So true, so true.
Yeah, I know you probably all are gagging and saying- "you know, that is just information I really didn't need to konw", but that is the truth, so blah.
To sum everything up, this has definitely been one of the worst times in my life but I am just so glad that it went well and I will be able to have my babies! (Hopefully) I know that God has blessed me with this, and that all your prayers have definitely helped.
In one to two weeks, the incision should be closed and then Dave and I will be heading home to Canada. Looks like March might just turn out okay.
Katie informed me last night that she would be coming to Utah for the summer and possibly longer (YEAHHHHHH!!!) that made my week!
I also found out that I got a raise! While I was gone! How cool is that. This week is turning out pretty good after all!