Take Two…
11 January 2007… and call me in the morning. That’s what I expected to hear. The normal yada yada yada. Was I ever wrong.
Last Wednesday night while watching TV I started experiencing some discomfort in my upper abdominal area. I didn’t think much of it at first since I just ate dinner, but the discomfort quickly started turning into pain. Within 20 minutes it felt like I had a ball in my chest the size of a fist that was radiating pressure and pain from its core out into my back. My body felt alternately hot and cold, I was dizzy and nauseated and there was no position that would alleviate the symptoms. Everything was coming in waves and I felt like I was going to pass out. When the worst of it passed we called the advice nurse at Kaiser. After a 10 minute conversation they suggested I go to the Emergency Room “just to be safe.” By this point the pain was becoming more manageable and I decided to ride it out at home. The entire episode was over about an hour after it started. That was around 7pm. I had recurring episodes at 1am and then again at 4am. It was time to go to the Emergency Room.
We arrived at the ER around 6:30 in the morning. My experience with the ER has always been that you should prepare yourself for a long wait. Walking in I was encouraged to see only a handful of people in the waiting room. I was expecting an hour wait…tops. People started to filter in and out. Ambulances arrived. People who registered after me were being called in. All the while my symptoms had subsided, and I’d chalked the whole experience up to a bad case of heart burn. After three hours of waiting I was so frustrated that I was ready to call it a day and head home thinking that I could call and make an appointment with my doctor. Drew convinced me otherwise, fearing that another episode would land us back in the ER at the end of the line again. Around 10am, after 3.5 hours of sitting on a hard plastic chair watching fuzzy television, I was finally called back.
My journey started with the normal Q&A session followed by the obligatory temperature and blood pressure measures. They did a blood draw and took an EKG before wheeling back to my “room” to await the arrival of the doctor. He diagnosed possible gall stones, which was confirmed by an ultrasound. I was hooked up to an IV, more blood was drawn and the wait was on until I could be admitted to the hospital for surgery the next day to remove my gallbladder.
After 5 hours of laying in my ER bed I was rolled up to the hospital room. I had my own little oddly shaped private room with a TV, a bathroom, two chairs, a view of the roof, a phone and a Craftmatic bed with a handle dangling from a metal pole above me that I hit my head on every time I sat up. This was home for the next two days. Drew stuck around for a few more hours then headed home. The rest of the night was spent watching TV, sleeping and drifting in and out of a morphine haze.
Surgery day: We didn’t know what time I’d be going under the knife, but I passed the time with Drew and a surprise visit from a family friend. An OR Transportation Nurse came to collect me around noon. She kept bumping into things and insisting that Drew not help guide her - until we were off that floor, and then she practically insisted on him helping. Next was Pre-Op where I met with the anesthesiologist before getting moved in to the Operating Room where they strapped down my arms and legs before lights out.
I woke up in Post-Op crying from the pain and groggy. It felt like being stabbed repeatedly with hot sticks. I was fighting to keep my eyes open and look around the room to catch someone’s attention. Fortunately the morphine was soon coursing through my system again and I was rolled back upstairs where Drew was waiting for me. That night was tough. That bar above the bed that I kept hitting my head on became a lifesaver when I needed to turn over. Any movement of my abdominal muscles was excruciating, so I stuck to using my arms for rotation. It was a long night and sleep only came easy after my pain shots.
Saturday morning it was time to be discharged. They brought me a tray of breakfast. I had not been allowed to eat since being admitted Thursday morning. I had been on the ‘all water all the time diet’ through the IV. Drew had arrived but was looking decidedly pale. He proceeded to vomit explosively in the bathroom and I knew we were in trouble. During the entire discharge procedure he as white as a ghost and barely coherent. He managed to get us both home where we fell into bed. The first two days home Drew was in so much worse shape then I was, with what we believe was food poisoning, that I was taking care of him, the boys, the house and myself. He was doing what he could but with the food poisoning he was losing more liquids then he was taking in and it robbed him of all his energy. He spent a lot of time sleeping and trying to keep warm despite wearing thermals and socks to bed under the feather comforter.
It was a long, stressful weekend, but we got through it. Drew was feeling well enough to go back to work on Tuesday, and I’m spending the week at home mending. The surgery was a Laparoscopic Cholecystectomy, and I’m left with 4 new scars and no gallbladder. All things considered, it could have been worse. I can live without my gallbladder with relatively few, if any, complications and a few more scars don’t bother me. As with anything, I try to look at the big picture and this was just another bump in the road.
on January 11th, 2007 at 2:06 pm
You were very brave through the whole thing. I still feel terrible that I couldn’t take care of you in your time of need.
on January 16th, 2007 at 12:06 pm
Sweet Jebus. Do either of you remember pissing any old Gypsy women off within the last year or so?>
on January 17th, 2007 at 12:01 pm
I’m thinking it’s all karma in some form…maybe I called someone a name in High School or something.