How Do You Top a Surgery
18 January 2007Why, with a second surgery of course! Seriously. This is my world.
When I was discharged from the hospital I had 4 incisions. Three small ones trailed diagonally down my right side and the fourth was a large opening below my belly button. A quick check of the incision when I got home revealed that that the lower cut was not sealed up nice and neat like it should have been. It was 2 inches vertical and open about three quarters of an inch with a visible layer of subcutaneous fat mottled between the parted flesh. Naturally this freaked me out so I called the phone number on my discharge form and was met with a recording that stated that they were “closed” for the weekend. Lovely. I left a message and picked up some sterile strips from the store which did a poor job of containing the carnage.
On Monday I finally got a hold of someone and explained my concerns about the state of my war wound to someone who did not take me seriously. She was rude and condescending while she explained that everything was normal, and she would make me an appointment if I want them to “put another piece of tape on it.” Normally I wouldn’t stand for that type of treatment, but I was pretty spent by that point - surgery, sick husband, days of pain killers. I was too tired to fight it and I wondered if I was being a bit irrational about the whole thing. Because of the location the slowly forming black scab was constantly breaking open and ruining my shirts, but hey, “normal” right? I tended to my raw flesh, tried to minimize any situation that would cause irritation and got on with life.
Today was my surgical follow up. Time to gauge my progress. I was escorted into the examination room, and told that the nurse practioner would need to take a quick peek under my shirt and I’d be on my way. No need to undress, get naked, wear the cape. In and out. Easy. Yeah, not so much.
As it turns out, I had what is called a “skin split” which is quite unexpected. Certainly it was not normal. My Nurse Practioner started to clean the wound before thinking better of it and calling in a surgeon to take a look. My choices, at that point, were to clean the wound and let it continue to heal on its own or have it surgically repaired. Leaving it as is would take approximately three weeks to heal and leave me with a fat scar. The surgery option would leave with a nice straight line which would seal up quickly, but had a slight chance of infection. I choose the latter.
An hour later I was an operating table in the back of the surgical clinic getting a local in my belly. Luckily I was laying down so I couldn’t see the work that was being done, but I could certainly see the various tools moving around. They started by cutting out the strips of skin on either side of the original cut along with the upper layer of crusted fat. It is one of the more surreal things I’ve ever experienced to have someone cutting out my flesh while I was wide awake cracking jokes with the person responsible. Next up: cauterizing. Ever smell buring flesh? Yeah, it was mine. The finale was a stitch up job. It felt like they were lacing up a football down there. From start to finish it was all over in about an hour. I now have a pretty little line with a few pesky strings sticking out which should heal nicely.
And how was your day?
on January 24th, 2007 at 11:47 am
That is awful I hope the nurse on the phone gets fired.
on January 24th, 2007 at 12:04 pm
Thanks. It was honestly one of the more traumatic parts of the whole procedure (believe it or not). It looked pretty bad, and then to have my concerns dismissed so callously … It just wasn’t right.