Saturday, December 30, 2006

Fluid Advice

****I wrote this on 12/25, but I was having connection problems (still in the stone age and on dial-up) and I forgot to post it****

Drink your fluids. It's very good advice. It's even more important if you're sick, as I've unfortunately found out.

I felt great on Saturday. One day post-op, and I was out shopping. I made mom pick out her own present (or part of it) with a clever ruse. She changed her mind twice. She ultimately picked something I would not have, so I'm glad.

Yesterday, however, was a different story. In the interest of TMI, I was having a common post-op complication. One that was listed on my discharge papers. The time had come that I needed to give this normal body function a helping hand.

I wasn't feeling well to begin with. I didn't know there was a nasty virus going around. I reluctantly did what I needed to do (using something the doctors office gave me a few weeks earlier). Nothing happened, and as the day went on, I felt increasingly worse. I decided to curl up in the recliner and take a nap.

I thought a hot shower might help, and that was the first day I was allowed. Nelson removed the packing, which was on with nasty harsh tape. It took half the skin off my stomach. I howled. I'm a wuss to begin with, and this pain was immense. The shower felt good, but I didn't. Then the stuff finally kicked in - with a vengance. My condition worsened.

We were getting ready for the 7pm church service. I had spoken to Missy - she and her husband Dave are friends of ours and fellow board game collectors/enthusiasts; he teaches our Sunday School class, and she and I share a stand in bell choir - and told her I'd see her there on Friday. All of a sudden I couldn't swallow. I tried to take a pill with water, and coughed it back up. I paniced.

Nelson was in the shower. I made it back to the bathroom and told him I needed to go to the ER right away. He got dressed and ran me to the nearest hospital, which is one I am not fond of, but if I go to the other two they will not call my doctor if needed because he's not on staff. I went to that ER 2 weeks prior, and got a jerk doctor who treated me like garbage.

I'm happy to say that everyone was great on this occasion. I got nervous when the triage nurse put a 3 (out of 4) as my urgency on the screen. All kinds of things rush through the crazed mindset - bloodclot, internal bleeding, hemorage - terrible stuff.

A very nice ER doctor came over and she asked me a series of questions. She took one look at me and said "You are severly dehydrated. I'll get you on an IV and you should start to feel better." Not what I wanted to hear. I still looked like swiss cheese from the numerous failed IV attempts from the surgery. She told me I had no choice. I must get an IV, or I'd risk kidney failure and other nasty stuff.

I had a very nice nurse try twice, and failed. I heard her talking to the doctor - from the dehydration, my already deep and poor veins had collapsed. I am needlephobic, and was on the verge of hysteria. They brought in another lady who listened to me, and put the IV in my arm. She got 6 tubes of blood at the same time. She told me that she really only needed 4, but she got the blood flowing and took the extra 2 in case they needed to run more tests. I told her that was good thinking.

Two and a half hours, and one bag of fluid later, I was feeling better. I was even hungry. They warned me that the after effects last 24 hours, and I might feel poorly the next day, and I sure did. I fought all day long to stay as upbeat as possible, but it wasn't easy. By the time we needed to go to my Uncle's house, I was running on fumes, but I wanted to see my little cousins open their presents, so I muddled through.

**Post-thought: I drank over 100 oz of water that day, and by the next day I was feeling about 80%. It's gotten better every day, and I make sure that I'm fully hydrated. It's cold and flu season - please be sure to keep drinking - it's important!

Friday, December 22, 2006

I've Lost Something....

I know what you're thinking. I haven't lost my mind - not totally anyway. I've also not lost my decency or common sense. Nope, it's a little more near and dear to me.

I've lost my belly button.

How did I get here? It's not hard. I had an umbilical hernia. In the interest of TMI, I'll spare the details. Today, in the operating room, the doctor said "How attached are you to your belly button?". I said "not really". He said "Ok - it's gone". Just like that.

I'm not upset or anything. After birth, the belly button is pretty much useless. It collects lint, and whatnot, but that's a service I really don't need anymore.

I haven't seen it yet. It's hidden under dressings that must stay on until Sunday. It's just going to be weird to see it gone.

Does this mean I'm an alien now? :O