The Stone Saga

Blog post #125 of 365

This summer I went to the neighborhood hospital with pretty mean abdominal pain and after several tests found I had gall stones. But they said it wasn't bad, gave me pain medication and sent me to see my own doctor. I made the appointment where my doctor said she was putting in a surgical referral but that it could take time. She said if I were to have any more trouble to go back to the hospital. I went back to the ER a month later. On that second ER visit the surgeon said he was admitting me and that is when I found out my insurance only covers the ER visits and not actual surgery inpatient or otherwise. He was going to transport me to the ER my insurance did cover. They called ahead where the doctors directed the ER doctor to make me "comfortable" and send me home with instructions to see my regular doctor. My regular doctor again just said go to the ER when it happens again. She claimed she had already made the surgical referral but I had heard nothing at this point.

Eventually I went to the hospital that my insurance does cover. It took about 12 hours for them to tell me it wasn't bad enough to take it out. They gave me pain medication and said I needed to keep some solid food down and they would send me home. Then the surgical team came in and commented that I shouldn't have eaten.

This weekend I spent most of Saturday in pain and all night in pain along with fever, vomiting and diarrhea. Since my symptoms had increased, my adorable son took me back to the hospital. They took me back fairly quickly and did an ultrasound but decided it wasn't clear enough. They did labs and vitals over and over. More ultrasounds, a CT scan, chest x-ray, EKG, more labs and more ultrasounds. I experienced another unexplained fever and they checked for a virus (pretty much sticking 6 feather-ended Q-Tips up my nose) and checked for a bacterial infection. They needed to explain the symptoms that were not going along with a seemingly healthy gall bladder. Thirty hours later they decided I needed to have the surgery, admitted me and put me on a surgical wait list.

I spent the next twenty four hours trying to control my pain, kept moving and breathing so my body would be better able to heal and all the while not eating or drinking anything since Saturday. My IV pole was my stand in personal trainer.

Soon after I got up Tuesday morning the surgical team came in to assure me that I was on the list for surgery that day and unless emergencies bumped me off I would have the surgery as planned. I was excited. The only problem at that point was my bed was broken. I reported it but figured I could live with it for the day. They said they would call maintenance. It didn't matter much I was medicated well and either sleeping or walking the whole day.

I had been sick since Saturday night and I know everything I had eaten Saturday had come back up so I felt like a pro at the not eating or drinking part. Every time I entered the hallway though it seemed like there was food there. Trays full of steaming hot food for other patients or half eaten empty trays. There seemed to be a bunch of big gift baskets of fruit or candies throughout the day too. Nurses with munchies of one kind or another also plagued me.

As I walked the halls I found I was in some kind of weird ward of babies and surgical patients. Women walked the halls with me pushing bassinets with new born babies in them. Other women appeared to be in labor. Some just appeared to be in loads of pain. I imagined post surgical. On one door there was a big orange sign stating it was a "jail ward." Warning that there would be no visitors allowed. I later saw the police woman and wondered at her gun with all of the babies close by. I just kept walking and praying everything would work out as planned.

I had this really great roommate. She had just had an ovaries removed after a cyst destroyed it. She was in dire pain but was determined to get home and back to school & work. Her mother was with her but Mom only spoke Chinese and was too tiny to help her with much other than moral support. Truth be told I think my roommate liked the support but would have liked some breathing room too. Between laps my roommate and I would have little chats about how to stay more healthy and about our plans for after we were back to our old selves. When I was sleeping she would walk laps with her mom and when she was trying to get her breathing better and manage her pain I would walk mine. She was released the second day I was there at about the same time I headed into surgery.

It was overall a good experience. They walked in and said get ready you're next. I packed but my personal things and they stashed them away. I could hardly contain myself as I was being wheeled down to the pre-op area. I was on this huge gurney with thick green sheets and a cranky Nigerian guy bouncing from wall to wall. The OR nurse and anesthesiologist came out to ask questions and assured me they were ready. I remember the anesthesiologist pumped in a little happy juice into my IV port and then I took a short much safer ride into the OR. I remember seeing these beautiful blue lights on the ceiling. Actually they were more of a rainbow of purples and blues against the stark white of the ceiling in what looked like very old fixtures. Then everything went fuzzy and dark. I awoke Still feeling happy and knowing this ordeal would just be a matter of healing. In less than an hour I was being wheeled back to my room with a much nicer travel attendant who gave me a much smoother ride.

When I returned I found the bed next to mine was empty and my bed was still sloped to the right. The nurses told me they would call maintenance in the morning. I sat in the chair and she left to figure out what to do. I was already cold because every surgical room is cold. I wonder why. Maybe someone could explain that to me some day. (I got the explanation that there are normal temperature ranges but that they are usually kept cooler probably because of the gowns and also to keep everyone alert. I liked that art. Alert is good in surgery.) I sat in that chair and got colder.The nurse returned and they gave me the option of sleeping in my roommates empty bed by the door (not a fan of by the door) or switching rooms. I wanted to just switch out the beds but apparently that just wasn't done. So I switched rooms. My room was even colder than the first. My pain level was rising probably from all of the sitting while they figured out what to do with my bed situation or maybe it was from hauling my things to my new room or maybe both. As I began to get settled into my bed the nurse gave me a note and put flowers in the window. I told her it had to be a mistake but she said no your former roommate left these for you. She had this sweet letter of encouragement and a bouquet of flowers her family had brought for her. I about cried. Well I would have cried but crying hurts.

They set a try a food next to me. I think it was fajaitas but I hadn't eaten since Saturday. I cracked it open to peek and the smell turned my stomach. Also my throat hurt a little from the intubation tube they told me was standard for this surgery. Moments later they entered to take my vitals and give me oral pain medication. Oral pain medication on an empty stomach! Lets just say I was weary and worried. I explained that jello and broth sounded more my speed and that I was likely to toss oral medication since I hadn't eaten since Saturday night. They left and came back saying all they had was a dry sandwich and crackers. They also said they had to talk to a doctor before they could give me any medication other than the pills. It took an hour to eat one hard tasteless graham cracker. How can you ruin a graham cracker? Well they managed and it was so hard and stale I could hardly swallow it.

My pain hit a ten by the time the nurse returned with a pain shot. I managed to get a few thin "blankets" from them before discovered I was covered in a sticky coating of surgical prep (not Betadine) that made newly painful parts stick to other parts. Why did my entire torso need to be covered? And then there were regular bandages and huge marks where they had used something to strap the skin down I imagine. The whole area was swollen and red. The nurse had to get permission to allow me to clean it off. They gave me wipes that didn't work so they  talked to the surgeon who ordered saline and gauze which made the area even stickier. I was soaked, sticky, cold and in pain. The nurse left and when I pushed my nurse button for a dry night gown and blankets I was informed she had other patients who needed me and I should be happy I had a bed to sleep in. She was the worst nurse I had. The surgeon came and ordered a stronger medication for the night and some Benadryl for the allergy. I got about two hours sleep.

By morning the nurse had a much better attitude as she tried to help me wash away some of the skin irritants. that appeared much worse than the night before. "I guess you were right," she said as she unsuccessfully attempted to wipe away at the huge orange smears and angry red welts. In the morning I was visited by a different surgeon who ordered a shower and a new oral medication. Or so he said. He also asked me to walk, eat, urinate and get my pain under control. Someone brought in a tray with a "bowl" of cereal I have never before seen, milk, a weird jello (finally jello which I expect in a hospital) a waffle and a sausage patty. The waffle had no taste and the sausage made me gag. I drank the juice, ate the weird jello and choked down the waffle. I decided to stash the cereal in case lunch was inedible.

Shifts changed and my nurse said the doctor ordered an different oral medication than the one he originally ordered and she could not "allow" me to shower without permission. I took the oral medications and as predicted an hour later I had no relief. I took a walk outside my room. Just up and down the hall and around the corner and back. I felt too much pain to go far. I breathed deeply, meditated and prayed I could urinate enough to prove I was drinking enough to not get dehydration. The nurse returned to give me an IV medication but told me she was ordered to discontinue the IV. I begged her to call the doctor for a different oral medication. She glared at me and told me to go for a walk. I explained I had just been for a walk. I could tell she didn't believe me by the glare she gave me as she walked out the door. I took a nap. The doctor came back and said he would order a shower and a different oral medication.

Once I woke up I walked every 20 minutes for about 10 minutes. I walked past a room with an air freshener and all of a sudden realized I hadn't taken any of my regular allergy medications for my asthma. It took over an hour for them to bring an inhaler. They brought lunch. It was barely edible. How can they cook the flavor out of everything? I mean everything had no flavor. If it looks like a vegetable it should taste like a vegetable. Not so for this try. Also I got no salt or pepper but it was marked on the tray as being there. Luckily there were several students working the floor or I'd bet I would have had no medications or help of any kind. When I asked for more medication they brought the same medication as from the morning. The doctor was called and he said he changed my medication and that again I could shower. Again the nurse gave me IV medication when I refused to take the oral medication. Again she said I could not shower. I took another short nap then went for a long walk. While I was out I asked if he had ordered the right medication. They said that he had and my prescription was in the pharmacy.

When my son arrived they asked him to go get my medication. It took an hour. In that time they told me they would wheel me down after I took an oral medication. Still the wrong one. I begged for one that would work. I was about to get in the car and travel 12 miles home. I asked for the same medication they assured me would be my take home medication. They finally did give me an oral medication that worked and took off my IV port. I was ready to go home.

I came home gall bladder free and took a shower. Then I popped my clothes in the washer and asked my son to add his and Gramie's. He did. I slept well.

The stone Saga Ends and The Healing begins!