As I said in my last post, I went in for surgery last Thursday. My parents came down Wednesday night so that they could help get Erin off to school in the morning and to get me to the hospital by 11:00 am.
The morning went well, I arrived on time and my mom and dad sat with me in the waiting room while we waited for my name to be called. The plan was that I would go back, take a pee test to make sure I hadn’t immaculately conceived a child, get my IV, and then my dad could come back while I waited to be taken back to surgery.
Well, it turns out I was dehydrated and they could not freaking get a vain to do an IV – it took four nurses and five attempts. I think this was the beginning of the end for me. I just can’t handle much more and keep my shit together, you know!?! I’ve been dealing with this crap for 9-months!
So once the IV is finally in, there is no time for my dad to come back and they end up just taking me away. You know how surgery is, it’s scary. I’m always afraid that I’m not going wake up. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad way to go, but obviously I’m not ready to die, so I worry. I think maybe the fear comes from reading COMA in high school English class.
“they called it minor surgery… They never woke up.”
Anyway, I did wake up, but it was no easy task. The nurse that was there to watch over me upon waking up was really a sweet guy. He talked to me as I regained consciousness about how he had three sons and they all live in different parts of the US and each year or so he moves close to the one of the other sons. He said with his set of nursing skills he doesn’t have a problem finding a job and he is able to really experience and build a relationship with his sons during this yearly visit vs. just rushing off one weekend and trying to fill years worth of catching up in two days.
When I started gaining more consciousnesses I realized I was in pain way more than I was this past January and it was awful. This kind nurse told me he could give me this pain killer that worked fast and hard, but didn’t work for a long time. I took it. Well, when he checked in on my pain again I think maybe I was pretty high and out of it still and I expressed major pain and he gave me a second shot of whatever this was and it worked really good. At this point I was so pain free that every time I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, I forgot to breathe, and all these alarms kept going off as I drifted into death.
After awhile they realized I wasn’t breathing on my own any better and they brought a machine in that forced me to really push the air in and out of my lungs. It was actually quite exhausting and we were doing this for hours. All this time my parents were told I’d be out in 45 minutes, I went in at 11:00 and now it’s close to 6:00 at night and Erin needs to get home from school and my parents haven’t been able to even see me. Finally my mom somehow found someone to intervene and I was able to get a message to her to call my friend who was running backup for me with Erin in case I ran late. Even then though, they wouldn’t let my parents back yet.
Obviously I’m typing this so you know I didn’t die, but it was a little crazy there for a couple hours. Eventually I was able to breathe on my own and I was allowed to go home.
OMG! Friday is just a rotten awful day. My dad and I have a turbulent history and as much as I love him, he can really press my buttons. He notices that the license plate on my car is starting to peel and you can’t really read it that well. His good intentions are to get it replaced so that I don’t get pulled over and get a ticket. The bad thing is that he just can’t let one second to go by without nagging me to do it at that moment. I haven’t even put a bra on yet and he wants me to go town to Secretary of State and sit ALL DAY LONG to replace my license plate. So I start crying and screaming at him and he starts fighting with me and then next thing I know I’m pulling my fucking number for my turn at the DMV.
Now I just want to say this, if there was a question on Family Feud that said, “Name a place you wouldn’t want to be one day after surgery” one of the top answers would have to be DMV, right? I mean that place is hell on earth. Yet here I sit, braless, less than 24-hours after surgery, getting a new license plate. I can only imagine what I must have looked like.
By now I’m hurting. I woke up not able to move my neck and I couldn’t open my jaw without it being tight and it even hurt to swallow. I was in serious pain and I was just hoping that my check in call from the surgeons office would come soon because the pain meds they gave me were the exact meds that I asked them not to give me because they don’t work for me. My plan was to get something stronger called in, something that actually worked.
Around 3:30 my call comes in and the nurse asks me how I’m doing and I tell her that I am in really rough shape. I assure her that I’m tough, that I rarely take pain meds, but I was taking what they gave me, and I was finding no relief. I shared with her my neck and jaw pain and she sounded a little agitated about that and asked if she could call me back because she wanted to talk to the doctor.
A couple minutes go by and she does in fact call me back. All I can think at that moment is that I’m losing my shit. I’m in so much pain, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I start listening to her talk and I hear her tell me that she wants me to come into the ER and I’m having trouble processing what she is saying and I started anxiously walking around my dining room. I was unaware that Erin had just run through and dropped her backpack on the other side of the island, I put one foot forward it wraps around the arm strap to her backpack, my feet get tangled up and I fucking fall flat on my face. The phone went flying so hard it disconnect the nurse. I officially lose my shit and I just sit there, face to the ground and I cry like a baby.
Oh yeah, everyone from here to Texas came running to see what the fuck happened because shit went flying, the kitchen island actually moved from it’s installed place, plates were broken, the kitchen table was moved sideways – I fell hard. And just remember the poor nurse, she was about to tell me that she was afraid I was having a heart attack and then all she heard was me drop to the floor and my phone disconnected.
The nurse calls back, my mom picks up the phone to talk to her, tells my mom that she wants her to call the ambulance so they can do an EKG on me. My mom has to calm the nurse down and assure her that I didn’t have a heart attack, I just tripped. Yet I’m in the background just sobbing.
You know when you scare a nurse, you’ve fucked up.
So my mom wraps up with her and then calmly tells me that they are calling 911. I refuse and I tell my dad to just take me to the ER. I’m not going in no damn ambulance because I wasn’t having a heart attack. I was just in pain.
I don’t even know where the next six hours went because that was how long it took me to see a fucking doctor once I did get to the ER. All this time my blood pressure was 200 over something, which turns out was caused by ALL THE PAIN I WAS IN because as soon as they gave me a nice shot of morphine it went right down. After that they turned the lights off for me, shut the door and let me relax for a couple hours. They had some name for what happened to me and it has something to do with uncontrolled pain after surgery. I left with a decent pain killer and I was sent home to do my first packing change because they didn’t want to do it in the ER due to all the germs.
I’ve got to go to bed, but I’ll finish this story tomorrow and I’ll leave you with this picture:
This picture shows how much packing came out of my boob from surgery. He ended up taking my milk ducts and a bunch of other tissue and the size of the hole inside my boob is just unreal. When my mom was pulling it out, it was just about an hour after I came home from the ER. I broke down. I reached my limit with the entire situation and at one point I asked her to put a bullet in my head. I know that sounds so awful, but that was how horrible this experience was.
So I’m off to bed and I’ll write more tomorrow.