three days out

May 22, 2010

I am determined to document this journey, the good the bad and the in between. Reading posts here has been so helpful to me along my way, and I feel like in some small way I am paying back a deby. I am also hoping to see my own progression over time.

I just finished my supper. It was a small amount of tomato soup mixed with 1% milk and a bit of unjury. I am sti;;; scared to eat anything new, so afraid of dumping or vomiting. My stomach doesnt hurt, per se, but there is an achiness there that reminds me, as Dr T says "It is no different than being stabbed 5 times in the stomach". I love a good analogy. I am feeling overly full, and made myself stop eating, even though I knew I hadnt yet had even close to the right amount of protein yet today. I guess for right now, I will operate on "my best is good enough" and try to drink enough so I dont get dehydrated and pray not to dump or puke. The very idea of puking with this stomach makes me want to puke. Eek.

My surgery was Thursday morning, it is now Saturday night. I was released from the hospital this morning at quarter to ten. I was so glad to get home. Took a nap in Jims recliner and another in my own bed, it was nice to not be woken up, have fire alarm lights going off, or having to have my finger poked yet again to check my blood sugar.

The blood sugar issue is not one I was prepared for. The nurses up there actually asked me if we were told to expect that. maybe we were, but I apparently missed it? In any event, major surgery can cause your body to go into a diabetic state, blood sugars can get wacky, and mine really did. I was on an insulin drip for the first 2 days. Finally it stabilized. It was a little scary, the "what have I done?!" thoughts were hard to tame then. If I am truly honest, I think I will still have some of those thoughts until I heal a bit more. Or at least until I manage to lose the incredibly stiff neck and spasming back I have had for 3 days now. One nore about the hospital beds? ick. That is all. Ok, no wait, fair is fair. The beds suck rocks. I think mine was broken, the footboard just wouldnt come up high enough, and I spent way too much time sliding down the ramp into the footboard, or bracing my feet to keep from sliding off. I couldnt find a spot that I could lay that was comfortable, and cursed my shortness, thinking if only I had been able to have a bariatric bed, things might've been different.

I was also in a room that surprised me, it was like the waiting area for the bigger, grander, sunnier, more comfy room on the other side. I was the passthrough for a lot of nurses and docs and PT people and pain specialists....and even though I only semi begrudged the bigger room my neighbor had, I can honeslt ysay she had a right to it considering her surgeries were not self-inflicted or voluntary. I only actually saw her face a few times, but a little part of me will always be grateful for the prayers I heard her pray for me and MY pain, as though her own was minor...and it was not. But in any event, my room was not conducive to sleep, healing, or comfort. No window and hence no windowsill for my stuff. (The STUFF is another matter altogether...wth was I thinking? I couldnt even focus, nevermind read the magazines or laptop I brought.) Me and fluroscent lighting do not get along, and my prior migraines became all too current. I was in agony, between positioning on the bed and the lights and the interruptions, I was a hurting unit. I had bad gas pains in my stomach, and didnt find it charming that my male nurse, who was otherwise a God among nurses, kept suggesting that "it is ok to toot". I prayed I wouldnt, and prayed I would.

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