* Just a TMI warning!!!! Everything surrounding my hospitalization and surgery is pretty gross, so if you don't want to know really inappropriate details about my body, I would stop reading!
The day after my surgery was a pretty good one, considering. Sky showed up first thing that morning bearing gifts and breakfast from McDonalds. Our day was spent watching silly TV and laughing and talking and napping. We even ordered a pizza! And since the nurses found out through unfortunate trial and error what pain medication worked best for me from the night before, they made sure to keep me pretty drugged up and happy through the day.
My nurses continued to poke me to draw blood every 6 hours, and kept an eye on my vital signs. Dr. Amaro still wasn't happy with my blood work numbers, so he decided that before discharging me the next day, that I would undergo another blood transfusion that evening.
I woke up the next morning in crazy amounts of pain, but very ready to go home. Sadly my evening nurse was not as free with the pain medication as my day nurse had been. But the blood transfusion and antibiotics had been administered without a hitch, and I was being sent home!
Sky packed up everything I had accumulated during my visit, I said good-bye to the people I had come to see as friends, and we were off!! But not before signing the paperwork that stated my hospital stay's total: $24,000. As I signed the paper, I laughed out loud!!! Because really, what else could I do?! I had a feeling that if I didn't acknowledge my disbelief aloud in some way, it would come out later as hysteria or sobs. So really, laughing seemed the best option. The woman who discharged me and had me sign the paper, looked at me as if I had lost my mind. Oh well.
The car ride and the car barge ride home were excruciating, but uneventful. I am beyond thankful that Sky had the foresight to ask my nurse, Denise, to drug me up right before leaving the hospital. Once we made it home Sky carried me in the house and to the bed. And here is where I've been since then. He has been amazing to me. He has cooked, cleaned, gone to work every day, made sure I've taken my medicine, and done everything in his power to keep my spirits up and make me laugh during this very painful, very slow recovery. And to my never-ending mortification he has also helped me bathe, go to the restroom, dress and everything in between.
It's hard to convey not only the amount of pain I was in, but also how HARD it has been to do everyday things that I've always taken for granted. Little things like laughing and coughing were impossible to do without causing myself incredible amounts of pain. Getting on and off the bed, even rolling onto my side or trying to sit up were impossible without Sky's help. So you can imagine why I would need help bathing, dressing, and even eating.
Today marks one week and one day since my surgery. I am still in a lot of pain, but moving around is getting easier. I can get off and on the bed by myself. I can stand up long enough for a shower or to get a bowl of cereal. I can pretty much dress myself now. And I can almost walk up and down the steps without help! I'm on my way to healing! I still have to move very slowly and carefully, but I'm getting there!
This experience is competing with my miscarriage and subsequent breakdown as the worse of my life. And since this is the SECOND time I've said this in the past six months, I am seriously hoping, wishing and praying that I won't have to reassign that label to anything else I experience for the rest of my days. But for now I am focusing on resting, healing, and staying in a good mental space, which is getting harder to do as the days go by. And that's what I've been up to for the past two and a half weeks!
So the morals to this story?!
*Have health insurance!!!!
*Go to the doctor when you don't feel well!!!!
*Eat plenty of fiber!!!!
Happy Thursday all!!
Showing posts with label hospital. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hospital. Show all posts
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
'Oscopies and Operations
* Just a TMI warning!!!! Everything surrounding my hospitalization and surgery is pretty gross, so if you don't want to know really inappropriate details about my body, I would stop reading!
Have I told you about my doctor yet? His name is Dr. Amaro. I was endlessly embarrassed by this entire situation because I found this man handsome and funny. And he smelled nice! How mortifying is it not only to have to be in a hospital gown, but also have to discuss pooping and your bottom with a handsome man?! Oh I could have died every time he walked in the room!
Anyway, after a couple of days, my blood pressure and hemoglobin levels weren't stellar, but they were steady. Dr. Amaro thought it was time to pinpoint what what causing the bleeding and from where. He referred me to a surgeon, Dr. Commissiong to preform several exploratory procedures and a surgery, if necessary.
My nurses gave me two bottles of cherry flavored saline to drink that would clean out my intestines and colon in order to prepare for the procedures. The doctor explained that I would be undergoing two 'oscopies: a sigmoidoscopy and a colonosopy. The sigmoidoscopy would let the doctors examine the inside of my rectum and the beginning of my colon. The colonoscopy would let them see the entire length of my colon to determine where the bleeding was coming from. I have to be honest: I was scared! One of my only questions was whether they would put me under and they assured me that they would.
At what the nurses called "pre-op" they asked a long list of standard questions about my health and history. They ran a pregnancy test (very negative, by the way) and checked my vital signs. As the nurse listened to my heart and lungs, she remarked that she thought I said I didn't have heart or lung problems. I replied that I didn't, to my knowledge. That's when she told me that I have a heart murmur. I was surprised and I told her so.
The next thing I remember, I woke up to the sound of my own crying. I vaguely remember hearing a nurse tell me that Sky was on his way and would be waiting in my room for me when they were ready to release me from the Recovery room. The rest of the evening went by in a fog. I can remember looking up at Sky, then waking up again to my dinner tray being brought in, then again the next morning at 6am. Whatever they put me under with was fantastic!
The morning after my 'oscopies my doctor and surgeon came to explain what they found. I had several lesions and lacerations in my rectum and colon and they were hemorrhaging. They would need to do surgery to repair the problem. They told me they had an OR booked for me that morning.
At pre-op I signed my life away via consent forms to the anesthesiologist and my surgeon. I answered another long list of questions, the nurse gave me something to "calm my nerves" and I was out like a light!
Again I woke up to myself crying hysterically. Apparently being sedated makes me weepy. Waking up from anesthesia is such an odd experience! I felt as if I was hearing and seeing things as I was walking through a tunnel. The closer I got to the opening the more I could hear and see. At first I was shocked wondering who was making all that noise! Then I slowly realized that was me screaming and crying! I was so confused. I remember thinking to myself that I wasn't particularly sad. So why would I be crying? It's still strange to remember.
That afternoon and evening was a really rough one. After a couple of hours post-op, the anesthesia started wearing off. I was in more pain than I had ever felt in my entire life, and that's saying A LOT seeing as I just had a nightmare of a miscarriage owing to an overdose of Cytotec. But this pain is something I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. It was excruciating!!!! It hurt so badly that even after three doses of morphine and a Loratab, I was still crying and screaming in pain. I begged the nurses for something stronger or something to knock me out. I just couldn't take it anymore! I cried so much that I lost my voice and broke a blood vessel in my eye. I don't have the words to describe the amount of pain I was in.
Unfortunately I still had more to look forward to at the hospital. But for the moment I was happy at least to have the problem figure out and fixed...
Have I told you about my doctor yet? His name is Dr. Amaro. I was endlessly embarrassed by this entire situation because I found this man handsome and funny. And he smelled nice! How mortifying is it not only to have to be in a hospital gown, but also have to discuss pooping and your bottom with a handsome man?! Oh I could have died every time he walked in the room!
Anyway, after a couple of days, my blood pressure and hemoglobin levels weren't stellar, but they were steady. Dr. Amaro thought it was time to pinpoint what what causing the bleeding and from where. He referred me to a surgeon, Dr. Commissiong to preform several exploratory procedures and a surgery, if necessary.
My nurses gave me two bottles of cherry flavored saline to drink that would clean out my intestines and colon in order to prepare for the procedures. The doctor explained that I would be undergoing two 'oscopies: a sigmoidoscopy and a colonosopy. The sigmoidoscopy would let the doctors examine the inside of my rectum and the beginning of my colon. The colonoscopy would let them see the entire length of my colon to determine where the bleeding was coming from. I have to be honest: I was scared! One of my only questions was whether they would put me under and they assured me that they would.
At what the nurses called "pre-op" they asked a long list of standard questions about my health and history. They ran a pregnancy test (very negative, by the way) and checked my vital signs. As the nurse listened to my heart and lungs, she remarked that she thought I said I didn't have heart or lung problems. I replied that I didn't, to my knowledge. That's when she told me that I have a heart murmur. I was surprised and I told her so.
The next thing I remember, I woke up to the sound of my own crying. I vaguely remember hearing a nurse tell me that Sky was on his way and would be waiting in my room for me when they were ready to release me from the Recovery room. The rest of the evening went by in a fog. I can remember looking up at Sky, then waking up again to my dinner tray being brought in, then again the next morning at 6am. Whatever they put me under with was fantastic!
The morning after my 'oscopies my doctor and surgeon came to explain what they found. I had several lesions and lacerations in my rectum and colon and they were hemorrhaging. They would need to do surgery to repair the problem. They told me they had an OR booked for me that morning.
At pre-op I signed my life away via consent forms to the anesthesiologist and my surgeon. I answered another long list of questions, the nurse gave me something to "calm my nerves" and I was out like a light!
Again I woke up to myself crying hysterically. Apparently being sedated makes me weepy. Waking up from anesthesia is such an odd experience! I felt as if I was hearing and seeing things as I was walking through a tunnel. The closer I got to the opening the more I could hear and see. At first I was shocked wondering who was making all that noise! Then I slowly realized that was me screaming and crying! I was so confused. I remember thinking to myself that I wasn't particularly sad. So why would I be crying? It's still strange to remember.
That afternoon and evening was a really rough one. After a couple of hours post-op, the anesthesia started wearing off. I was in more pain than I had ever felt in my entire life, and that's saying A LOT seeing as I just had a nightmare of a miscarriage owing to an overdose of Cytotec. But this pain is something I wouldn't wish on my worse enemy. It was excruciating!!!! It hurt so badly that even after three doses of morphine and a Loratab, I was still crying and screaming in pain. I begged the nurses for something stronger or something to knock me out. I just couldn't take it anymore! I cried so much that I lost my voice and broke a blood vessel in my eye. I don't have the words to describe the amount of pain I was in.
Unfortunately I still had more to look forward to at the hospital. But for the moment I was happy at least to have the problem figure out and fixed...
Monday, March 21, 2011
Stabilize
* Just a TMI warning!!!! Everything surrounding my hospitalization and surgery is pretty gross, so if you don't want to know really inappropriate details about my body, I would stop reading!
Hands down, hearing the words "bleeding to death" and "blood transfusion" aimed at me was the scariest moment of my life. I didn't know much about getting a blood transfusion. My mind raced trying to remember anything and everything I could about it, but I was coming up blank. When I was younger I was an avid blood donor. Between the ages of 18 and 23 I donated more than 12 times. I knew plenty about donating, but nothing about receiving. All I felt was panic. Was it safe? What would happen if I declined? Could I decline? Were there any other options? What were the cons? Did the benefits outweigh the possible risks? After asking as many questions as I could think of I did the only thing I could in that situation: I consented to a blood transfusion.
I was hooked up to an IV and given saline and a pain reliever. They loaded me into an ambulance and took me to the Custom's dock where a private water taxi was waiting for me. And off we went to St Thomas.
In the ER of Roy Lester Schneider Hospital they took my vital signs and another round of blood work. They explained to me that the normal range of hemoglobin for a female my age is between 12.1 and 16.1. My hemoglobin levels were at 6.4. I had lost almost half of my blood over the course of 5 days. They also told me that normal blood pressure is in the range of 120/80. My blood pressure at the time was 84/46. I was in dire need of a transfusion right away. They started a second IV in my arm and started the transfusion process. I received three bags of blood over the course of six hours. They checked my temperature, blood pressure and pulse every 15 minutes during the transfusion to make sure my body wasn't having an adverse reaction to the blood.
I didn't get much sleep that night. I was tired and uncomfortable and scared. But looking back on it, that was the easy part. They admitted me into the hospital to observe me to make sure that my hemoglobin levels and blood pressure stabilized over the next few days. They drew blood every 4 to 6 hours and took my vitals sign every other hour for the first couple of days of my stay. Meanwhile they kept antibiotics, saline and pain relievers flowing through the two IV sites in my arms. I remember looking down at the six hospital bands, two IVs and the countless band-aids from the needles pricks on my arms and feeling frustrated and disbelieving that I was living this. On top of that my IV sites would become painful and sore, and my veins would become inflamed so the nurses would have to find new sites for the IVs. My arms took a lot of abuse that week and I think it'll be some time before all the scars and marks finally fade.
At that point I was still bleeding when I went to the bathroom. But the doctors were adamant that they needed to get me stabilized and stronger before they could figure out what was wrong and from where I was bleeding. All I knew was that I was sick of hurting, sick of being in the hospital, sick of being poked and prodded, and more than ready to go home. Unfortunately that was still a few days away...
Hands down, hearing the words "bleeding to death" and "blood transfusion" aimed at me was the scariest moment of my life. I didn't know much about getting a blood transfusion. My mind raced trying to remember anything and everything I could about it, but I was coming up blank. When I was younger I was an avid blood donor. Between the ages of 18 and 23 I donated more than 12 times. I knew plenty about donating, but nothing about receiving. All I felt was panic. Was it safe? What would happen if I declined? Could I decline? Were there any other options? What were the cons? Did the benefits outweigh the possible risks? After asking as many questions as I could think of I did the only thing I could in that situation: I consented to a blood transfusion.
I was hooked up to an IV and given saline and a pain reliever. They loaded me into an ambulance and took me to the Custom's dock where a private water taxi was waiting for me. And off we went to St Thomas.
In the ER of Roy Lester Schneider Hospital they took my vital signs and another round of blood work. They explained to me that the normal range of hemoglobin for a female my age is between 12.1 and 16.1. My hemoglobin levels were at 6.4. I had lost almost half of my blood over the course of 5 days. They also told me that normal blood pressure is in the range of 120/80. My blood pressure at the time was 84/46. I was in dire need of a transfusion right away. They started a second IV in my arm and started the transfusion process. I received three bags of blood over the course of six hours. They checked my temperature, blood pressure and pulse every 15 minutes during the transfusion to make sure my body wasn't having an adverse reaction to the blood.
I didn't get much sleep that night. I was tired and uncomfortable and scared. But looking back on it, that was the easy part. They admitted me into the hospital to observe me to make sure that my hemoglobin levels and blood pressure stabilized over the next few days. They drew blood every 4 to 6 hours and took my vitals sign every other hour for the first couple of days of my stay. Meanwhile they kept antibiotics, saline and pain relievers flowing through the two IV sites in my arms. I remember looking down at the six hospital bands, two IVs and the countless band-aids from the needles pricks on my arms and feeling frustrated and disbelieving that I was living this. On top of that my IV sites would become painful and sore, and my veins would become inflamed so the nurses would have to find new sites for the IVs. My arms took a lot of abuse that week and I think it'll be some time before all the scars and marks finally fade.
At that point I was still bleeding when I went to the bathroom. But the doctors were adamant that they needed to get me stabilized and stronger before they could figure out what was wrong and from where I was bleeding. All I knew was that I was sick of hurting, sick of being in the hospital, sick of being poked and prodded, and more than ready to go home. Unfortunately that was still a few days away...
Bleeding to Death
* Just a TMI warning!!!! Everything surrounding my hospitalization and surgery is pretty gross, so if you don't want to know really inappropriate details about my body, I would stop reading!
My misadventure began around Tuesday, March 8th. I noticed that every time I went to the bathroom, there was a scary amount of blood in the toilet. I think most people at that point would assume something was wrong and would make an appointment to see the doctor. I was not that smart. I knew I had a doctor's appointment the following Monday, so I figured that I would wait until then to bring up my concerns. As the days went by I felt more and more sluggish, tired and light-headed. I asked Sky what he thought about it, and he brushed it off saying there was no way the two things were connected. He confirmed aloud what I thought in my head: that I was (as usual) being dramatic and that I was just a little under the weather.
Fast forward to Saturday. It was our only day off together so I was determined to do something fun, despite not feeling well. We drove out to Salt Pond to have a beach day. I was feeling dizzier and more nauseas than I had ever felt, but I kept telling myself that it would pass. Walking towards the trail for the beach, I became so dizzy that I had no choice but to stop and sit on the ground. After waiting for more than 10 minutes for it to pass, I realized that there was no way I could make it the beach, which was only about 1/3 of a mile away. Sky wound up carrying me back to the car because I couldn't find the strength to even stand up. We drove back home where, again, I was too weak to even get out of the car. So Sky carried me into the house and put me on the couch, which I couldn't find the energy to leave, for the rest of the day.
Around 8pm on Saturday evening I felt worse, not better. We finally decided to go to the ER. I don't remember the car ride there, but Sky says that I was completely unresponsive to his questions. I guess I passed out.
When we arrived at the ER they wheeled me in, asked a few questions and did some blood work. Very quickly they came back with the results which were shocking to me. My hemoglobin levels were dangerously low and I would need to be transported to St Thomas immediately for a blood transfusion. They told me it was a good thing that I came in that evening, because losing blood at the rate I was would have caused organ failure, coma, or even death in just another day or two. I was bleeding to death. I was so shocked to hear this! A huge part of me was lying in the ER feeling silly for even being there. So to hear that there was something seriously wrong with me was almost surreal. And scary. And that's how this all started...
My misadventure began around Tuesday, March 8th. I noticed that every time I went to the bathroom, there was a scary amount of blood in the toilet. I think most people at that point would assume something was wrong and would make an appointment to see the doctor. I was not that smart. I knew I had a doctor's appointment the following Monday, so I figured that I would wait until then to bring up my concerns. As the days went by I felt more and more sluggish, tired and light-headed. I asked Sky what he thought about it, and he brushed it off saying there was no way the two things were connected. He confirmed aloud what I thought in my head: that I was (as usual) being dramatic and that I was just a little under the weather.
Fast forward to Saturday. It was our only day off together so I was determined to do something fun, despite not feeling well. We drove out to Salt Pond to have a beach day. I was feeling dizzier and more nauseas than I had ever felt, but I kept telling myself that it would pass. Walking towards the trail for the beach, I became so dizzy that I had no choice but to stop and sit on the ground. After waiting for more than 10 minutes for it to pass, I realized that there was no way I could make it the beach, which was only about 1/3 of a mile away. Sky wound up carrying me back to the car because I couldn't find the strength to even stand up. We drove back home where, again, I was too weak to even get out of the car. So Sky carried me into the house and put me on the couch, which I couldn't find the energy to leave, for the rest of the day.
Around 8pm on Saturday evening I felt worse, not better. We finally decided to go to the ER. I don't remember the car ride there, but Sky says that I was completely unresponsive to his questions. I guess I passed out.
When we arrived at the ER they wheeled me in, asked a few questions and did some blood work. Very quickly they came back with the results which were shocking to me. My hemoglobin levels were dangerously low and I would need to be transported to St Thomas immediately for a blood transfusion. They told me it was a good thing that I came in that evening, because losing blood at the rate I was would have caused organ failure, coma, or even death in just another day or two. I was bleeding to death. I was so shocked to hear this! A huge part of me was lying in the ER feeling silly for even being there. So to hear that there was something seriously wrong with me was almost surreal. And scary. And that's how this all started...
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