*~*PTMI ALERT!*~*
This post contains mention of blood, vomit, and medical procedures concerning the female reproductive system. If reading about any of those things makes you uncomfortable in any way, you should probably avoid reading it. You have been warned!
As most - if not all - of you know, I went in to hospital for a hysterectomy on February 7th 2019, leaving a selection of scheduled posts to entertain you while I was in hospital having, and then recovering from, the surgery. Plus, I hoped, while I spent my first few days at home just focussing on my recovery, and spending time with Kelly and the furkids. I hope you enjoyed those.
Regardless, now I'm back, and glad to say, the surgery is over. At least, most of me is glad to be able to say it. There's a small part of me - a very small part - that still clung to hope, even while I begged them to give me the hysterectomy, and now weeps for the loss of any chance I'll have the son whose name has been ready for him since I was a teenager. But most of me is glad. Most of me is relieved to have a chance at a better future for myself, even if it meant extinguishing that last flickering flame of hope. Most of me is cheering, because the bleeding is gone for good. At least, I will be glad when I'm not in so much pain.
By the way, if you're curious: the drink stuff I had to drink before surgery wasn't quite as bad as I expected it to be, though it wasn't particularly great either. I've had worse. It kind of tasted like the lemon version of that powder stuff you add to water for treating colds and flu, except you're meant to drink that hot, and this stuff was cold.
anyway, our friends, Lorna and Andy, were helping us out with the fact the hospital wanted someone sighted to sign my paperwork. Officially I should have been allowed to do it myself, because I'm old enough to do so, and my impairment is physical rather than mental. But the gynecologists had insisted. None of the nurses are quite sure why, since they don't see any actual valid reason why I couldn't have just signed it myself with a second nurse there witnessing that the first hadn't forced me, forged my signature, or whatever. That's what I did when I was having my eye out, and for the surgeries after that when the implant was refusing to take. I should have been able to do that this time too, and we all would have been happy for me to do so. Except the gynecologists. So, Lorna and Andy helped us with the problem of needing to have someone sighted sign the paperwork, while someone else was able to stay at home with Lilie. It saved us the hastle and expense of arranging to put Lilie in doggy daycare for the day. Although, I do admit she would have probably really enjoyed that, since she loves having friends to play with. Still, the moved surgery date, combined with the cost, made having helpful friends a much better option from our point of view.
Lorna and Andy had planned to also be the ones bringing me home, but the surgery date being moved meant they couldn't, because they'd been planning for months to go away somewhere, and they were due to leave while I was in hospital. As it is I think they pushed back their departure date a few days for my sake. I don't know that for sure, but suspect it. If they did, I'm extremely grateful for them for doing so. It didn't really matter that they couldn't be there to take me home. It was having someone to watch Lilie while someone else provided sighted assistance for signing the paperwork that we most needed their help with. Getting myself home was easy enough, since I'm entitled to the free hospital transport available to elderly and disabled people, and there was the option of a taxi home if I didn't want to wait for that to be organized for me. I did wait though. I usually don't, because it's quicker to get a taxi. But I did this time around, since I didn't want to be rushed by a taxi driver when I was recovering from surgery. Plus, I wanted someone with medical training on hand in case the stairs proved too much for me (even though I did get some stair practice with the physio team before leaving the hospital, just to see how I handled it). I'm glad to have that hospital transport available when I want to make use of it, and really grateful to Lorna and Andy for helping as much as they could before they went away.
I'm also grateful to all those who sent prayers, positive thoughts, etc. So... Thank you!
I'm going to do my best to tell you everything, but it might be in a random order, because I'm having to write this in short sessions, since sitting down for too long is painful enough even now that I've jokingly said to a few people, "I wish I knew what I was being tortured for, because then I could give them the information." Apparently I wouldn't hold up well under torture. I've generally got a reasonably good tolerance for pain, but all anyone would apparently need to get information from me would be to take the pain past that point. Hmmm... Probably shouldn't have admitted to that.
For those who might be wondering - since I dare say some who have been following things closely will be - yes. We made it before the shot ran out. So, the bleeding didn't have time to start back up before the surgery.
A lot of the nurses on the gynecology ward remembered me from all my hospital trips last year. A couple of the doctors did too. I found it amusing when I showed up and was greeted by name, even before I gave it. Usually you'd have to identify yourself, possibly even show your appointment letter. Apparently I'm well known enough that I didn't even need to give my name. I can't decide if that's a good thing or not.
Anyway, I had what they call a "sub-total hysterectomy" (at least, I think that's what they called it). It essentially means they left part of the cirvex (neck of the womb) to avoid getting close enough to potentially cause problems with my bladder (especially since I had my ureta replaced during surgery when I was a young child, because of complications caused by something to do with the kidney problem I was born with). I also still have my ovaries. But the bulk of the womb... The part where the bleeding happens... Is gone. They asked my permission to do this before I went under anasthetic, and I told them as long as I wasn't going to have periods any more, that was fine. They assured me the only difference between the original plan (taking everything but the ovaries, which they left because of hormones, since I'm still only in my 30s) and what they did, was that I technically still have a cirvex, so could potentially get cirvical cancer (though I'm as likely to get that now as I would have been if they hadn't touched anything, so I'm not really worried about that).
The only other change to the plan for surgery itself was that they couldn't do the keyhole surgery like they'd hoped to, so instead I have a large scar that stretches right across my lower stomach. This is something I already knew would be a possibility, from the day they agreed to the surgery last June. The only difference that makes is more pain, and longer for healing. Something that wouldn't be such a problem if I wasn't apparently allergic to almost every single painkiller.
We already knew Paracetamol was a potential problem for me, since it can mess with my breathing. We also knew pure morphine couldn't be given for too long after surgery, since having too much of it has me throwing up. But apparently even things like Codine will have me throwing up after a few doses. Something we didn't realize at first, because I was putting my feelings of nausia down to being so hot in the stuffy ward, and having to ignore my body's intollerence for lactos, since I was having to have dairy at every meal due to the only dairy-free vegetarian dishes on the menu at the hospital being too spicy for me (something I knew from previous hospital visits). It was only when I got home, and things went from bad to worse, until I couldn't eat, but was throwing up anyhow, that we realized it was more than that.
I'm sort of glad we didn't realize before I went home though, because Ibuprofen (the only painkiller I seem to be able to take without any bad reactions) isn't enough to do much for the pain even now, and I know I never would have made it home without that Codine in my system. As it was I'm not sure how I managed to sit up for that long without crying, since sitting up for the ride home was so painful I was almost glad for the stair climbing, since at least I could straighten out. Yeah, it hurt that bad. It's now two weeks later, and I still can't sit for long without a lot of pain. The hospital is about ten minutes drive from my home, and the transport took someone else home first, making it more like a twenty minute journey. I never would have managed that without tears without the stronger painkiller in my system, and the ambulance guys who took me home would have had me back at the hospital if they'd known how much pain I was in even with that. As it was they were annoyed at me being asked to do the stairs so soon after surgery, and about the fact nobody bothered to tell them that the lady they were helping climb three flights of stairs was blind. Not that they minded my being blind, but they should have been told, and were annoyed they hadn't been.
Anyway, as is often the case for me after surgery, because of my being asthmatic, I spent the first night on oxygen. It started with the mask, but they ended up doing the tubes in the nose, since apparently I tolerate those better. I didn't keep trying to remove those anyhow. I've always hated the mask. It's not so bad if I can hold it, but I hate when they strap it to my face. So they'd strap it to me, I'd wake enough to realize and freak out, they'd let me hold it, I'd fall asleep and drop it, so they'd strap it to me, and around and around it went, until everyone got fed up and I agreed to the nose tubes. Not once did I attempt to remove those. Like I said, it's just that I really hate the mask. If I hadn't been so out of it until the early hours of the following morning, I might not have had it all night. But I was out of it enough that first night I only have a few flashes of memory, and hardly nibbled at the bit of toast they brought me (though I was drinking well from the start). Me being out of it made them reluctant to rush to take away the oxygen supply. I think it was because they had me on good pain meds that first night, hoping my system would tolerate them long enough to get me through the worst of the pain. It didn't. But it was worth a try.
Despite the issues with the pain meds, from a medical and surgical point of view, I was ready to go home within two days of my op. From a physio point of view, I was ready to go home two days later, and did. But I spent the first couple of days I was home in a bad way from what turned out to be the allergy to the Codine, so it's only been in this last week I've been able to really start recovering at all. I'm tired, sore, wish the OT (occupational therapist) would get their butt in gear so they could come tell us how I'm supposed to wash my hair when I can neither lean over the bath nor climb in to it, and unable to tackle the ever-growing pile of eMails waiting for my attention at the moment. So please bear with me. Oh, and if I spelled anything wrong... You know what? I'm not in a position to care right now. I just hurt too damn much! I usually take the time to proof-read my posts, and try to catch all those pesky typos (not to mention check my spelling). But right now I hurt enough that I'm prepared to risk spelling mistakes and typos if it means sitting here a little less time.
Yes, I'm improving every day, so maybe by the time this actually goes live I won't be hurting quite as much as I am at this exact moment. Also, maybe by the time my follow-up appointment rolls around on April 9th, I'll be able to sit up without feeling like I'm being tortured long enough to endure the trip to and from the hospital, and the waiting time at the hospital, without tears. Maybe. In fact, probably. Not yet though. Definitely not yet. But I'm getting there.
No. I don't regret anything. I'm glad it's done, and relieved there's a brighter future ahead than there otherwise would have been for me. I'll just be able to appreciate it more when I stop hurting so much, and wish I could just go to sleep, and wake up when that time comes. That or find a painkiller that does something for the pain without causing some kind of allergic reaction in me. Either would work.
Oh, and... I almost forgot... They checked my bloods before I left the hospital. My HB and iron levels are fine. It did take them about 45 minutes to get a vein willing to co-operate so they could check this. But at least the results were good when they finally got something to test. Hopefully they stay that way. They should.
My time on the gynecology ward was about as pleasant as a hospital trip where you get cut open, and then keep throwing up because you're allergic to the good painkillers, can be. One of the other patients, Ellen, even took me for a bit of a walk around the ward. She'd have done it more, I think, only I didn't want to bother her with asking. It's just a shame they moved me to SAU (surgical assessment unit) for the last bit of my hospital stay. They moved me there since they had some gynecology emergencies come in, and since I was just waiting to recover enough to come home, I didn't need to be close at hand for the gynecology team. Why they also moved Ellen, I don't know. Mind you, I actually think the hospital plays musical beds way too much in general. If someone else comes in, put them in the other beds. Don't move everyone all the time. Sometimes the move does make sense, like in my case when I didn't need the gynecology team on hand any more. But mostly it doesn't, like with Ellen, who still didn't even have proper answers from what I could tell, and had been moved to a new ward pretty much every day she'd been in hospital. Also, they like to do it in the middle of the night. It's really annoying, especially for people like Ellen who get moved constantly. I wish they hadn't done it in my case too though, since I knew where things were where I was, and things got all confusing when I got moved. Not helped by the fact the nurses in SAU had no idea how to deal with a blind person, and no interest in figuring it out. Then there was me being missed out with medication, and Ellen having to actually go make a nurse give me something for pain. Yes. My time on the gynecology ward was about as good as it could have been. But my time on SAU was far from it. About the only good things were that Ellen was there trying to look out for me, and I got to meet the Mother of one of the people from Oscars (our favourite food place) who was in the bed across from me during my time in SAU.
Kelly's been great, by the way. He's been helping me when I need him to, and even did my shots when I couldn't. Well, I probably would have managed to stick those needles in me eventually, but I won't pretend I'm not grateful to him for coming to the rescue. See, I needed to have shots for the first week I was home to avoid blood clots, because of not being able to be mobile. Fine. Except, though I knew how to do them, I had a slight problem with the part where I needed to stick the needle in me. OK. Fine. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Like I said, I'd have done it eventually, but was grateful I didn't have to find out how long "eventually" would have been, and could have Kelly do it instead. I had pills to take too. A couple of different antibiotics.
Lilie's been a sweetie, and shown how smart she is by fetching Kelly whenever she thinks I need him. She hardly left my side during the time I was at my worst, despite usually liking to go hang out with her Daddy for a while sometimes. Unless she was eating, drinking, going for potty runs, or fetching Kelly for me, she was never more than a couple of feet from me during the first week I was home.
Secret of the Cannon Room by Steven Allan Pease
Majipoor Chronicles by Robert Silverberg
