I've been wanting to write this entry since I returned home from the hospital, but for one reason or another, I never did... So here I am, five days post-op from my Gastric Bypass Surgery, ready to tell you my new journey that started just five short days ago when I entered the hospital.
The bowel prep was terrible, as expected. The day of clear liquids that didn't bother me last time, really bothered me on Monday. I felt deprived. I have no explanation for it... I did sleep fairly well, aside from the few trips to the bathroom, and arrived at the hospital with my mom, ready to face the first day of the rest of my life...
The patient has the easy part of surgery-- we "sleep" while our family waits it out... Pre-op went exactly the same as it did the last time, except for the one nurse who thought she'd be the hero to finally get an IV in my arm... no such luck! After a failed attempt at my mid-arm (and a very large and gross and painful bruise that is still there), she settled on my right hand.
I woke up in recovery feeling much different than last time. I was much more drowsy, in much more pain and had no idea what was going on. I thought I handled the last surgery really well. I didn't have a terrible amount of pain and I was incredibly alert after anesthesia wore off. This time, however, was a complete 360. They talked and talked and talked and talked for what seems like hours, but I was in a fog. I remember being in great pain and the nurse telling me she couldn't press my pain button for me. They had given me a pain pump with Dilaudid in it. I could push it every ten minutes; I just kept forgetting it was there. I looked at the clock on the computer and realized it was 2:30 p.m.! My surgery was at 9:30 a.m. and it was scheduled to be over and done with at 11 a.m. What in the world happened? I knew my family would be thinking the same thing. I had a hard time coming out of anesthesia, my breathing was low and they had to put me on oxygen and my pain was high... they kept me in recovery because of it. But finally, the nurse said they were getting me ready for a room. What room? You guessed it-- one of the few double occupancy rooms on the floor. Go figure! I tried to protest, but once again they told me there would be no one else in there with me.
It was 3:00 p.m. when I finally made it up to my room. My mom was waiting there for me. My dad had just left. My nurse was the same nurse I had last time. Very sweet and accommodating. I pushed the pain pump like it was going out of style. I could barely stay awake, however. I had a friend come to visit at around 6 or 7 p.m. and I couldn't even talk to her. It took effort to make any sense of a conversation. She left after ten minutes. That night was terrible. I was in pain. I cried. I was uncomfortable, extremely tired, yet couldn't sleep. Then the itching began... mind you, I took my prescription antihistamine at 7:00 a.m. that morning... I had to sleep with oxygen on because every time I fell asleep, my breathing became too shallow. I thought the oxygen tubes were making my face itch. Then my head itched, my shoulders itched... my back itched... my mom endlessly scratched my back and rubbed me with aloe vera lotion, all to no avail. The nurse came in and told me I was having an allergic reaction to the Dilaudid. She gave me Benadryl, but it didn't do much help. They switched me to a different type of oxygen that didn't bother me as much. That helped slightly with my irritability. But the night was a wash... The nurse said they would probably be switching me to a liquid version of Percocet in the morning.
The next morning I had to go for an upper GI. I'd had nothing to eat or drink since Monday at 1 p.m. and now they expected me to drink some contrast? YUMMMM! I survived and the radiologist told me that everything looked good. As soon as Dr. Northup signed off on it, I could be started on clear liquids.
Around 11 a.m. my nurse came in and told me I was allowed to drink again. Like manna from Heaven, the Crystal Light waltzed its way into my room... ahhhh.... finally.... but, no. I had a new stomach. I couldn't just gulp things down like I used to. The nurse gave me a medicine spoon full of crystal light every half an hour. Torture! I tolerated it well and was eventually able to drink small sips at will. I had soup broth. I've never loved it so much as I did that day.
My pain continued. The liquid percocet was helping, but didn't quite last the entire four hours it was supposed to. They supplemented with a drug whose name I can't remember at the moment. They took out my catheter. That was quite a relief. I hated that thing more than I've hated something in a long time... more than the contrast I had to drink for my Upper GI. Hate, I tell you. But I couldn't pee. It took hours.... they gave me six hours to pee on my own (or what? I thought). Then they gave me two more boluses (bags of IV fluids) to help me out. I peed maybe a tablespoon and was quite proud of myself. The bubble-bursting nurse said it didn't count. She did an ultrasound of my bladder and said there wasn't much urine in there, which meant that I was dehydrated and was absorbing the fluids. She said eventually I would pee... and I did... and once I did, let me tell you, I couldn't stop. Someone had opened the flood gates. I was in and out of bed every hour or so.
The doc came by the next day and said everything looked good. He asked if I wanted to go home. I'm sure it was a rhetorical question, but of course I said yes. The pharmacy tech dropped off my take-home meds and I was on my way.
My family members and friends have been a God-send through all this. They sent well wishes, sat with me for long periods of time, lent me a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on... my sister came home from college to spend time with me and I am so grateful for her.... but my mother, above all, as been my angel. Tonight will be the first night since the surgery that she has not spent with me. She stayed at the hospital and went to work the next day for a few hours... she slept on my futon and worked the next day as well... she fixed me meals, helped me shower, did my laundry, tended to my cats (who think she's amazing of course)... got me out of the house when I couldn't stay home a second longer and kept me company so I didn't go insane. I honestly don't know what I would do without her...
SO.... this is my long, drawn-out version of my post-op hospital stay. On Friday I was allowed to start my pureed food diet. Tomorrow, I shall enlighten you on what that consists of and how I am handling it. Until then, sweet dreams, my fellow readers!
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