Wow

(I realize that this post contains too much information ... actually WAY too much information. Just so you know. Sorry about that, but since I'm using this blog as kind of a journal, that's just the way it has to be this time and surprisingly I want to remember this.)

So the big day came on March 4th. It was a long time coming for sure, but that didn't make it coming any easier. All the anticipation made an anxiety-ridden stress case the week leading up to my surgery. I had this weird nervous energy thing going on ... kind of like the nesting that supposedly happens in the last stages of pregnancy, which is weird for me since I NEVER had that with any of my pregnancies. I sat there and waited impatiently and ate and complained. I NEVER nested. So this nervous energy was annoying but somewhat productive. I got all the laundry done, house cleaned, arrangements made for the kids, books and movies gathered, laptop ordered, shopping done, etc., and still looked for projects to keep me from thinking/worrying. I even organized London's drawer of endless markers and checked each one carefully to make sure it worked, tossing out all the dried out markers. Yes folks, it was that bad.

I had so many encouraging words from family and friends, and I will always be grateful for that. Those many kind words and thoughtful gestures really helped to ease my mind, and I'm grateful for all of you.

I had to be on a liquid diet for 24 hours and do a few other "surgical prep" type things the day before. It took it's toll and I passed out that night ... thankfully with Dave there to catch me. Not a good sign ... but definitely a sign of things to come. Yuck.

After not sleep really at all, we got up and 4:45 a.m. and arrived at the hospital at 6:00, got started on anesthesia, and headed into surgery around 8:00 after a send-off from Dave and my dad. The surgery took several hours since I had so many things done. Dave got some sporadic updates in the waiting room and tried to keep everyone posted. By noon I was in my room and woke up to Dave there waiting over me ... just like I knew he would be. I don't remember really anything from the rest of that day, but Dr. Parker apparently came in shortly after to tell us that the surgery went well. I lost less blood than anticipated and didn't have to have a transfusion ... good news. As we had discussed prior to surgery, the anesthesiologist gave me a spinal injection before leaving the operating room that was supposed to provide pain relief for at least 12 hours (and possibly as many as 24). Just my luck - it wore completely off in 90 minutes. Great. I remember being in a lot of pain through that night, but I don't remember much else. That's probably good.

The next day (Friday) was the real test. Since I had my bladder repaired during surgery, I still had a catheter. It was taken out to see if my bladder would work by itself. It didn't. Not at all. I wasn't feeling well at all, which frankly probably had something to do with the six different medications I was being given at that point. I hadn't eaten much in over two days and just felt so sick. My nurses would come in and beg me to eat a cracker so the medication didn't upset my stomach. Have you ever tried to eat a cracker at 2:00 a.m.?!! Not possible. It took me 30 minutes to get the cracker down and by that time the medication had already made me sick. AHHHH!!!! Unfortunately I didn't have the presence of mind to ask for something I could have actually swallowed (i.e., applesauce, Jell-O). Can somebody please remind me of that next time ... which hopefully there will NEVER BE. Also, I'm never eating crackers again. Or at least not for a long time.

Anyway, just getting up and getting to the bathroom was too much, and I passed out. I'll tell you what ... you want to see people FREAK OUT, try passing out in a hospital. The one nurse who was there when I went out was now surrounded by all kinds of medical personnel who seemed to appear out of thin air. The weird thing about me passing out is that I can hear everything going on around me. Even weirder is that I think I'm talking and answering people's frantic questions of "Can you hear me?" or "Are you with us?" I think I'm talking, but according to reliable witnesses, I apparently am not saying anything at all. But I can hear everyone, including the nurse's call for "I NEED A CRASH TEAM IN HERE STAT!" Excuse me?!!

So back to bed and catheter back in. The original plan was for me to go home this day, but Dr. Parker came in and gently said, "I don't think so" to that plan. My mom came and stayed with me while Dave went and saw a few of his own patients. She spent a ton of time at the hospital with me, and I'm so grateful she was there. That afternoon again I was feeling sicker than ever and started dry heaving, which when you have the amount of incisions I had, is ridiculously painful and honestly I felt like I was going to split apart. So dry heaving leads to horrible pain which leads to .... passing out. Give me a break! I passed out reclining in a bed! I was barely even sitting up. Again, the panic from everybody. So another night in the hospital for me.

Dave stayed there with me every night and all day every day (except when he went to see a few of his own patients). He was so patient and watchful and took such good care of me ... as always. I can't even count the hours he's spent by my bedside in a hospital. He never complained and jumped right up every time I needed something and did his best to comfort and distract me through the pain and setbacks. He even watched some teenage cheerleading movie on TV with me in the hospital and didn't even complain (or try to change the channel when I kept falling asleep). I sure do love him. We had visits from family and friends who were so supportive and kind and didn't even make fun of my bed-head hair ... even though I'm sure that was hard to resist.

The next morning I was feeling somewhat better, so we decided to try taking out the catheter. Again, not much luck. Catheter back in. So lame. That evening though, I was feeling good enough to get up, so we did and went for a short walk. I walked probably 20 feet and passed out on the way back. AHHHH!!! Thankfully Dave was on one side and my dad was on the other, so I was in good hands. Back to bed for me and another night in the hospital. Apparently I didn't realize just how much this surgery had taken out of me. Fainting is not unusual for me, but three times in 48 hours does happen to be a record. After this time, a heart specialist came up from the ICU and hooked me up to a 12-lead monitor and watched it from a screen in the ICU. So that was nice ... exactly what I needed - more hoses, tubes, monitors, and sticky tape. Very comfortable. Fantastic. Thankfully, no more passing out for me, and apparently my heart is in great shape. Well, that's good news.

By Sunday evening, I was dying to go home. I had refused to take the medications that day because they were making me so sick! I chose pain over nausea which I'd do again in a heartbeat. Nausea is the WORST! Then nausea was causing a whole other string of events that was keeping me in the hospital. I couldn't even think straight, and the nurses were just following orders and giving the medicine to me on a schedule. I knew I couldn't be sick anymore, so I stopped the nausea by stopping the pain medication. That helped, and Dr. Parker agreed to let me go home ... but with a catheter. We were trying to avoid that for the kids' sake, but they took it in stride. So home we came after four days. We survived. So began two weeks of bed rest ... more about that later. I need a nap.