I'm alive!!! Tired, bruised, covered in needle pokes and bandages, and 83% immobile, but still, I'm alive.
The Adventures of Surgery at College: Day 1
At 8:20 am, Catherine, Hannah K, and I loaded into Clarke (my car) and drove the terribly long three minute-drive to the hospital. (On good days, I walk there for my appointments.)
By 8:30, the three of us were back in Day Surgery, I was shown my room and a gown, and was settled into my new home (at least, home for nine hours). For the next hour, I laid back cheerfully as a menagerie of nurses, anesthesiologists, doctors and surgeons all took turns at talking to me, checking my monitors, hooking me up to a new beepy-thingy, or stabbing me with a new needle. Honestly, I thought it was cool. Most people don't go into surgery smiling. I always knew I was weird, though.
Right around 9:30, I was wheeled away into an operating room, moved to a new table and then...who knows? That's about where my memory stops. My next conscious thought?
10:30 ish: There's a mask on my face...my nose itches...I'm waking up?...Oh...I must have already had the surgery...weird.
That is always the most disorienting part about being anesthetized for me: realizing that at some point in the previous hour, without my knowledge, I was rendered unconscious, someone made four small holes in my tummy, did what they needed to do, stitched me back up, and waited for me to regain consciousness, and all I'm aware of is the before and after.
Obviously, this post will not involve pictures...
By the time I was wheeled back into my room, I was mostly conscious and aware of all that was around me. Catherine asked me how I felt, and then joked about how I wouldn't likely remember that conversation. Haha, I remember!!!
I have very little hold on what happened for the next seven hours, but it mostly consisted of me dozing off between visits from the nurse, feeling good as I was neither nauseous or in as much pain as expected, denying the morphine and later wishing I hadn't as the Lortab did almost nothing, and admiring all the little beeping noises and flashing lights that revolved around me.
At about 2:30, I was thinking I was feeling well enough to go, but agreed to trying to eat some solid food first. My goodness was that a bad idea. I had two bites of toast and few spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup, and I was done. My stomach hurt, I was suddenly nauseous, and I really, really wanted that next dose of pain-killers.
Finally, around 5:30, I was released from the hospital. I miraculously managed to tolerate the incredibly bumpy ride to the pharmacy, hobbled in, managed to make my point to the pharmacist enough to get the desired drugs, was shepherded home, and collapsed into my bed (which had been moved to the floor, thankfully).
A handful of people popped in and out of my apartment for the rest of the night, including neighbors and visiting teachers, and culminated in the arrival of my mother. I was SO glad she got to come! While I didn't sleep peacefully that night, I at least slept, and mostly free of pain.
Day 2:
At the beginning of the day, I felt good! I wasn't in the mood to eat much, and I was taking my pain-meds faithfully, but in truth, I wasn't in too much pain. Ok, I admit, I wasn't in pain, as long as I had a hot pad on my neck, an ice pack on my tummy, and I tried really hard to not move. More people swung by to say hi, I talked to family on the phone, and enjoyed my mom's company while we read on the couch. I was starting to think, 'Dang, I made my mom fly out here for nothing!', when the real pain hit. I was starting to get used to the idea that I could drug-up every four hours, but the pills would only last for three, when the three hour mark struck me. I took some OTC stuff to tide me over, and as soon as I was allowed to, took a vicodin. Then, because I was allowed to and hadn't yet, I took another. The pain was starting to scare me though; I thought there was no way I should be in this much pain after the medication. Mom sat with me for over an hour while we waited to see what would happen, and then I went to the emergency room. Once there, they cruelly made me wait an eternity (or maybe just five minutes, during the initial Q&A) before injecting me with some kind of magic happy drug that made me feel a whole lot better. Bonus, it also let me experience waking dreams for the first time. A set of Xrays and some bloodwork later, I was told my recovery was mostly normal, and that I only needed to worry if the pains happened again. I was allowed to finally go home, and once again, sleep.
Day 3:
I slept until about 10:30, ate a cinnamon role, called my ward calling companion, then went back to sleep until around 1:30. Best day ever.
Ok, not really, but all the same, I liked the sleep. I read some more, and tried to do some homework, but invariably fell asleep each time I tried. Mom made the best Sunday Dinner ever, that had boys poking their heads in to see what smelled so good. My home teacher came over later at night to meet me and my roommates, and to check on me, of course, and the Elder's Quorum president also dropped by to see how I was holding up. (Apparently my reason for missing ward council was made clear. My calling companion didn't want me to lose my ecclesiastical endorsement for ditching church)
Day 4:
I went to my first class of the day, Chemistry, and fumbled through making up what I had missed on Friday. Then I had the terrible task of taking my mother to the airport to say goodbye again. I'm so glad she came, and I'm going to miss her!
There are very few places to get food between Idaho Falls and Rexburg, and I pulled off at three different exits before finding one with a fast-food place. Almost as soon as I got off the freeway and pulled into Rexburg, I was met with the first frozen white precipitation-fall of the season. (There is still debate about whether it was snow or hail. While, yes, it did seem a little too compact to be snow, in my experience, hail is even harder and hurts when it hits you.) I struggled through another two classes, walked (very, very slowly) back to my dorm, and was ordered onto the couch for the rest of the evening by my angelic roommates. Unfortunately, I have to teach Indexing to FHE groups in an hour, otherwise I would listen, and never leave this couch again. Oh well, duty calls.
P.S. If you read through this entire post, have a cookie, on me.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Friday, October 15, 2010
Madison Memorial
In which the author learns to love the hospital
So most of you who know me or my family probably already know this, but I'll be going in for surgery next week, on the 22nd. I know, classes barely started a month ago, and yes, I'm roughly 900 miles from home, but I've been sick for years now, and this should help, finally.
Half of the reason we (my family, my roommates, and I) decided the surgery should be done here is because I'm getting sick enough that it's interfering with school, and a really good portion of the other half of reasons is because of the hospital, Madison Memorial. I've been there about three times already for tests and other appointments, and I'm in love with the staff, the doctors, and even the building itself. Everyone is kind, and almost everyone is LDS. By almost everyone, I mean when I met my doctor, he introduced himself as, "Hi, I'm Dr. so-and-so. I've lived in Rexburg my whole life, went to the college when it was still Ricks, have six kids, and served my mission in the Netherlands". LOVE it!
I'm so grateful to everyone who's been there for me through this; every prayer, every card in the mail, every call, and every facebook message has been felt more than I can describe. My roommates have all been angels, and will be helping with transportation and my post-op nursing. I'll be moving my mattress to the floor for a while, since climbing into the 5+ foot high bed with staples in my tummy might be a smidge difficult, but that just means I'll need to actually make the bed on Mondays when the family comes over for FHE. :P Kidding, I always make my bed! ... cough cough. The one other blessing that makes this all possible: My momma gets to stay the weekend with me. She'll miss the surgery itself, but that's okay. It's the thought that really counts. Bonus, I get home-cooked meals for four days!
I wanted to share this picture with the blogosphere, too. Years ago, one of my Young Woman leaders shared this with me, as something that helped her when her infant needed surgery. It was on the wall of the Presbyterian hospital they were at, and she had to search high and low for a copy. Luckily, she spared me the search, and gave me a little 3" computer printout. I now keep this picture on my bulletin board, right in front of me, where I can see it all the time. It serves as a great comfort and reminder that I'm never alone.
I'll spare you all another food entry...sorta. I did make some rockin' pancakes from scratch, and snapped a picture...for posterity, of course...but that's ok. I'm pretty sure I mentioned my exponentially increasing klutziness in one of my previous posts. Well, I had one particularly bad day this past week. Luckily, none of the damage done was permanent, I didn't trip up or down the stairs, and I have yet to break any of my glass dishware, so it's not too bad. The entire day, though, was filled with events like: stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara brush, managing to crack an egg so that shell fell into the bowl (the only part of the egg to actually crack was a perfect circle the size of a nickel, right on top); I tripped over someone else in Chemistry, accidentally poured half the noodles down the drain when trying to drain my macaroni, knocked over every bottle that sat on my dresser, stubbed my toes, jammed my fingers, and whole myriad of other things, all in a single day. The day after, however, was the complete opposite. Everything I tried went right, from the elusive Cream Tuna, which I had never made correctly until that night, down to the cookies I made and the tests I took. I was feeling so rebellious, thanks to my good-luck high, that I even ventured to play with the six raw eggs in my fridge.
Love the little cuties! The one with whiskers was especially tasty!
In hindsight, I probably should have eaten the menacing looking one first. He's terrifying the egg in front of him, and the egg to his left looks mildly concerned...
...he shall be eaten next.
So most of you who know me or my family probably already know this, but I'll be going in for surgery next week, on the 22nd. I know, classes barely started a month ago, and yes, I'm roughly 900 miles from home, but I've been sick for years now, and this should help, finally.
Half of the reason we (my family, my roommates, and I) decided the surgery should be done here is because I'm getting sick enough that it's interfering with school, and a really good portion of the other half of reasons is because of the hospital, Madison Memorial. I've been there about three times already for tests and other appointments, and I'm in love with the staff, the doctors, and even the building itself. Everyone is kind, and almost everyone is LDS. By almost everyone, I mean when I met my doctor, he introduced himself as, "Hi, I'm Dr. so-and-so. I've lived in Rexburg my whole life, went to the college when it was still Ricks, have six kids, and served my mission in the Netherlands". LOVE it!
I'm so grateful to everyone who's been there for me through this; every prayer, every card in the mail, every call, and every facebook message has been felt more than I can describe. My roommates have all been angels, and will be helping with transportation and my post-op nursing. I'll be moving my mattress to the floor for a while, since climbing into the 5+ foot high bed with staples in my tummy might be a smidge difficult, but that just means I'll need to actually make the bed on Mondays when the family comes over for FHE. :P Kidding, I always make my bed! ... cough cough. The one other blessing that makes this all possible: My momma gets to stay the weekend with me. She'll miss the surgery itself, but that's okay. It's the thought that really counts. Bonus, I get home-cooked meals for four days!
I wanted to share this picture with the blogosphere, too. Years ago, one of my Young Woman leaders shared this with me, as something that helped her when her infant needed surgery. It was on the wall of the Presbyterian hospital they were at, and she had to search high and low for a copy. Luckily, she spared me the search, and gave me a little 3" computer printout. I now keep this picture on my bulletin board, right in front of me, where I can see it all the time. It serves as a great comfort and reminder that I'm never alone.
I'll spare you all another food entry...sorta. I did make some rockin' pancakes from scratch, and snapped a picture...for posterity, of course...but that's ok. I'm pretty sure I mentioned my exponentially increasing klutziness in one of my previous posts. Well, I had one particularly bad day this past week. Luckily, none of the damage done was permanent, I didn't trip up or down the stairs, and I have yet to break any of my glass dishware, so it's not too bad. The entire day, though, was filled with events like: stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara brush, managing to crack an egg so that shell fell into the bowl (the only part of the egg to actually crack was a perfect circle the size of a nickel, right on top); I tripped over someone else in Chemistry, accidentally poured half the noodles down the drain when trying to drain my macaroni, knocked over every bottle that sat on my dresser, stubbed my toes, jammed my fingers, and whole myriad of other things, all in a single day. The day after, however, was the complete opposite. Everything I tried went right, from the elusive Cream Tuna, which I had never made correctly until that night, down to the cookies I made and the tests I took. I was feeling so rebellious, thanks to my good-luck high, that I even ventured to play with the six raw eggs in my fridge.
Love the little cuties! The one with whiskers was especially tasty!
In hindsight, I probably should have eaten the menacing looking one first. He's terrifying the egg in front of him, and the egg to his left looks mildly concerned...
...he shall be eaten next.
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