Saturday, July 16, 2011

How I Got Here Part 2: The Lap

No, not the clap, the lap...As in laparoscopy...

I had a really low-key Valentine's Day without any chocolate-covered strawberries. I figured it would not be in my best interest to be throwing up what would look like blood clots. I worked out for an hour and a half thinking it would be a while before I could do that again. Took shower #1 as directed by my pre-op instructions...I found it rather disturbing that I needed to be told to take two showers before going to the hospital. Do people really show up dirty for this kinda thing? Eww...Anyway, I laid out my clothes which included a new pink sweater from Victoria's Secret that I bought for myself as a pity gift, skinny jeans and my Uggs. (My dorky-ness even confounds me at times.) I set my alarm for 4:15 am and laid there until it went off.

Showered (#2), hair straightened and ready to go, BJ and I hit the road by 5:00 am to make the 6:00 am show time. On the way down "Brick" by Ben Folds Five played on my iPod which made us giggle...(we're kinda sick like that...)

I get taken back to the pre-op area and my blood pressure is something ridiculous for me like 150/100. (My normal is 90/70.) I kept asking the nurses when I would get my Rufy (yes, I'm talking about the date-rape drug), and they just kept saying soon. They started an IV, during which BJ cringed and cowered in the corner because he hates all things related to doctors. (He can watch Saw, but not his wife getting stuck!?) The anesthesiologist met with me and told me they did not use Ruhypnol, which was disappointing because the cocktail I did get, really didn't do it for me. My doctor came by and told me what to expect when I got rolled into the operating room, lots of people running around and the like. He told me he would be there before they put me under.

(Ok, so maybe the drugs were working a little bit)

I find the waiting before the surgery to be some of the least fun not soon enough I was kissing my still green husband, giving up my pink fuzzy blanket (it's generally really cold in hospitals), and putting on a super sexy hair cap. The operating room was even colder. They had me scoot myself over to the operating table, and then scoot my head up, and then scoot down to the other end of the table while they tried to figure out what to do with my 5-foot frame. Just as my doctor said, people we're running around and sticking things on me including these nifty little air massage things to keep me from getting blood clots in my lower legs. Dr. B was there rubbing my arm until I went out. The last thing I remember was seeing one of the nurses attaching the stirrup to the table, and looking at my doctor and either mouthing or saying (I hope mouthing) "oh, shit."

So while I was completely out they inserted a breathing tube and then placed a port with a camera and a few other devices in my belly button. They inflated my torso with air so they could get a better picture. My insides were inspected for any deformities, lesions from endometriosis, or anything else that could be an obstacle to our quest for spawning.

A couple of hours later that could have been 30 seconds for all I knew, I was waking up in recovery. The nurse came over and asked me how I was, and I kept saying, "My beav hurts." The nurse asked, "What hurts?" Emphatically I responded, "My beav." The word beav, while once used frequently, has not been in my vernacular since I graduated from college. It is amazing how messed up anesthesia can make you. My mind felt completely coherent, but I was too sleepy to put the effort into sounding least that is how I felt. Anyway, the nurse smiled and nodded and dosed me up with something probably with more interest in shutting me up than pain relief. I was not in extreme pain at all. It kinda just felt like I had lost my virginity again...less fun, and with more drugs...

The second time I woke up, I saw BJ, and all was right with the world again. I didn't care if anything hurt. I was just like, "He loves me," then back to sleep. I was starting to stir for good and was really thirsty. I tried to drink, but I immediately started hurling. Anesthesia and I have never gotten along. So then I got dosed up with all kinds of anti-nausea meds and remember the nurse saying this is a good time to take her home hoping that I'd sleep the entire way back and not puke on anything. I got dressed mostly by myself and decided I needed to use the bathroom again without being babysat. So I took off leaving BJ confused and the nurse asking where "Miss Independent" went. Apparently, I had a catheter placed (another eww, gross, sorry), and it kinda messes with your bladder's sensibilities for a bit. I thought I had to go, but 10 minutes later, I gave up. I opened the bathroom door to find that the nurse was standing there with one of those "wide load" wheel chairs. I was humiliated. "Which side do you want me to sit on?" I asked her. She was just told me to get in, and I was getting more drowsy, so I did. I can imagine the nurses were all relieved...

Upon, returning home I whisked myself to bed. I slept most of the rest of the day, and when I woke up, I was in no pain. Peeing was still a little weird and seemed to take forever. I was a little sore, and my incisions stung, but no real pain. I've only had orthopedic stuff done that involved bones, so this by comparison, was a breeze. Food didn't seem too appealing to me, still, but other than that I felt downright plucky. To my surprise, because I was expecting it, I didn't have any bleeding. I was however unthrilled to see that there was a 3rd incision just over my left hip bone. BJ swears my doctor told me this would happen if I needed any lesions or adhesions removed, but I apparently had selective hearing...Anyway, I was immediately in less pain after my surgery than I had been in for almost three months. My husband let me drunk-dial my boss (thanks, baby) and tell him I felt fine and could come in to work. He told me to go back to bed, and I did.

I was still pretty nauseous the next day and had some dry heaving. That was probably the worst thing. My ab muscles were really sore, so the heaving motion wasn't making me feel too good. My mother, who had come down to stay with me when BJ went to work, became obsessed with getting me to eat. Every time I tried, I started heaving so it really wasn't worth the effort. To control the pain from heaving my mom gave me a percocet, which in turn, also makes me sick. In hind-sight, I should have had my husband ask my doc for a prescription for phenergan...oh, time. Which is the unfortunate thing about endometriosis, there quite often is a next time as it comes back...especially if you don't get pregnant. Anyway, the final torture came when my mother tried to make me drink warm Jell-O. I've always thought my mom had a touch of Munchausen by proxy (crazy parents that get off on making their children sick), but the warm gelatin really sealed the deal. It didn't take 15 seconds to be up-chucking that heinous concoction.

The next day my doctor's partner called in some Phenergan for me. I immediately felt better after I woke up and was able to keep down some soup. I think I did have some weird discharge, but a super-thin panty-liner was more than enough to take care of it. My abs were still pretty sore, so I thought I was going to kill my husband when he wanted me to watch The Wild & Wonderful Whites of Boone County. Laughing was still not a pleasant situation at this point. Besides eliminating comedies from your routine and having anti-nausea meds on-hand, my other suggestion is to keep some cranberry juice on hand to help with any bladder weirdness, which I also had, but it wasn't bad.

By Friday, 4 days post-op I was ready to get out of my house. BJ had gotten a new job and we were in the middle of house-hunting during all this craziness.  I was then chauffered around several different neighborhoods and went furniture shopping. By late afternoon, I was getting pretty sore so back to bed I went. Saturday morning I felt great. I felt like a brand new person, and like an idiot decided to go for a run. I made it about 50 yards out of pure spite, but I was comfortable enough to walk a couple of miles.

I went back to work full-time on Monday and was able to really run by that Wednesday. We were even able to resume our procreation efforts after a week. Again, I can't say enough good things about my doctor. I never had the shoulder pain that people almost always get from the leftover gas used to inflate their bellies. I had immediate relief from my endo pain. He did a great job making me feel as comfortable as I could be. Thanks, Dr. B!


1 comment:

  1. I remember I got morphine with my first surgery. I was so excited, because they were serious about controlling my pain. Needless to say, my excitement was premature as I got horrifically sick on it. Phenegran is my friend, always. Zofran...just ok.

    My second surgery, I refused morphine. Thank goodness too!