At least I didn't have a jelly fish shoved up my rear end!

At least I didn’t have a jelly fish shoved up my rear end! *


What follows is an accounting of my recent (as in 4 days past) hysterectomy. It will at times be a bit graphic and for this I apologize but the story can’t be told without these details. OK maybe it could be told but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun in the telling.

December 15th came screaming up on me which is probably a good thing since, had I had time to think I may have decided not to go ahead with surgery. After all being the coward that I am I had refused to have the hysterectomy for several years against the medical advice of three well qualified previous doctors and in spite of horrible health problems. I wasn’t looking forward to the ordeal and in particular the anesthesia portion but steadfastly held on while praying and asking for prayers of strength and faith. All prayers were appreciated and felt!

I was fairly stressed by the time we left for the hospital (the Abbot and Costello routine with the Ambulatory Care Unit (ACU) nurse the previous day over the spelling and pronunciation of my last name had done nothing to calm my fears) so the very last thing I wanted to hear was anything negative. Unfortunately for Ernie, he didn’t think about this and as we neared the hospital he mused: You know I’ve never heard anything positive about this hospital! I had suddenly found my stress relief and let him have it, informing him that the LAST thing I needed was to hear anything less than positive about the place that I was about to surrender myself to for slicing and dicing. He was sorry for thinking out loud and I was sorry for taking my stress out on him.

We arrived at the hospital 20 minutes before my appointed time of 9 AM and were instructed by admissions to join the crowd already waiting across the hall in the waiting area. Oh boy we get to sit with a bunch of sick people while I wait for them to process my paperwork for surgery. What giant among brilliant thinkers had come up with this admission process? I started to get really edgy as the clock moved towards 9 and at a minute before they called me back across the hall to the window where the pleasant woman complained about her aching feet as she placed my wrist band on and had me sign paperwork before directing us to the ACU waiting area. I was called back within moments from there to be weighed. No I’m NOT sharing that information (way too graphic for even the strongest of hearts) but WILL share the fact that my doctor ordered low carb/fat diet had paid off and that I had lost 6 pounds over the past couple of weeks! I was then placed in room 1 and invited Ernie to join me as I disrobed and put on the hospital gown offered by the nurse. I insisted that Ernie tie me up the backside since I was not about to flash anyone as long as I was still un-anesthetized. I climbed up onto the *bed* and waited for the process that I knew would commence soon: IV, blood sugar finger stick, etc. A new twist was the leg pumps. These are sleeves that once placed on the calves, are attached to a pump that inflates and massages the legs every few minutes. I have to say, it was not an unpleasant experience having my legs massaged near constantly.

Around 10 AM the anesthesiologist dropped by to chat. I had called the day before to request Dr. Thomas who had handled my anesthesia for the D&C in October. The nurse wasn’t sure he was scheduled for that day but left a note in case, assuring me that he would be happy to oblige if he were. Dr. Thomas was extremely efficient yet comforting, a combination not easy to achieve yet he did by being professional but still taking the time to place a pillow under my head when he decided that I looked uncomfortable on the table in OR. Unfortunately he wasn’t scheduled so another anesthesiologist was assigned. Oh boy—we were mere seconds into our conversation when it became obvious that this replacement was some kind of ….nut. He is obviously very intelligent and was attempting to educate me about my diabetes and risks, etc but believe me, the LAST thing (after being told by my husband that he’d never heard anything positive about the place) was that though the risk is very slight, some patients lungs fill with too much oxygen and can’t process it so it crosses over to the heart where it can cause a stroke or heart attack. The risk is slight but he felt that patients should be aware. The problem was he was kind of flip about offering the information so he sure wasn’t building my confidence in him. I dared not look at Ernie since I could tell just by his body language that he was as disturbed as I was. I was so shocked and horrified by it all that I missed much of what he said after this. Before I knew it, it was time for them to roll me down to the OR. I had vowed not to go near it without Him so as they pushed off I reached out and literally grabbed the hand of my Jesus and squeezed hard all the way over. My doctor was already there when we pushed through the doors and I didn’t let go, just held on for dear life and support. Dr. Heroux is a real treasure (truly) so I was reassured by her presence. I started to doubt her a bit though when she walked over to say hi. At one point she casually mentioned that I was going to like my anesthesiologist. I felt like asking her if she had ever heard Dr. Loony Toon’s pre-surgery spiel but kept it to myself since I was afraid he might be in hearing distance and take revenge. You can imagine how pleasantly surprised I was when I looked up and saw a talking head that most definitely was NOT Dr. LT smiling at me while telling me that he was my anesthesiologist. (Ernie later told me that the scary guy had told me this but I guess I was so stunned that I missed the part where he explained that he wasn’t actually handling my anesthesia but would be in the room to assist). I listened as he and the nurses worked around me. I have no idea when he administered anesthesia since he didn’t say a word to me but the next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery. The very first thing I said was that I felt as if I needed to pee. Of course even in my fogged mind I KNEW I didn’t since I knew they had catheterized me. I assumed it was pressure from the incision and hoped it would pass soon. The next thing I knew I was waking up once again as they moved me to the bed in my private room. From my short walk down the hall the next day I gathered that all of their rooms on the surgery floor are private. Sweet. This was definitely a nice surprise on top of the earlier less than nice moments.

The pain in my belly was exactly as bad as I had expected it to be. I have had two prior C-Sections so Dr. Heroux used that incision site to open me back up this time. I’ll be forever grateful that I followed her advice and had the ovaries and tubes removed on this trip since I don’t ever want to do abdominal surgery again. I was in for a pleasant surprise this time. I’ve heard about the medication buttons but had never been in a situation to use one but can add them to the list of medical miracles to praise God for. Those little buttons are fabulous! They pin it to your gown and instruct you to “just press it” whenever you need something for pain. I lost count of how many times I woke up long enough to eat a couple of spoons of ice chips then to press that marvelous little black button. To be honest I used it to escape back to sleep more than pain management. If I was sleeping I didn’t feel pain.

My nursing assistant came in the next morning to get me up and walking. She left the distance and direction up to me so I turned right and headed up the hallway walking as fast as I could manage. I wasn’t trying to set any records though—I just knew the faster I got it done the faster I could get back to bed. I miss that bed. I got tired of spending so much time in it but at least I could adjust it so that my back didn’t hurt. At all! I have arthritis in my lumbar spine and have trouble lying flat on it but had no aches or pains from that area for the duration. However one unfortunate side effect of spending so much time on my back was what we assume are bedsores. My back side is covered in blisters, big ones too. One is smack in the middle of my back. I found it when I was scratching and fortunately realized what it was right away. Unfortunately I didn’t catch the one on my butt later that night until after I had scratched it open. Ouch. With three little kids in the house and constant phantom boo-boos, there are never any band-aids when you need one so I got to spend a few minutes painfully chafing before I could fall asleep.

I did manage to give myself a good scare the day after surgery. I was already in a *sitting position* so decided that it wasn’t too far to bend over and pull my slipper back onto my right foot. Big mistake. Blood started gushing from my incision site but being still a little foggy headed, instead of calling for help I went back to bed. A couple of hours later once again feeling the need to make another trip to the bathroom, slowly got up from the bed and this time left a trail from bed to toilet. I hit my call button on the wall and told the unit clerk that I needed a nurse. An aide came quickly and just as quickly realized that we needed a nurse. She called the clerk and told her to send her right away. We waited then waited some more so she hit the button again and again told her we needed a nurse. She finally went down to the nurse’s station and still we waited. I was calm but scared that I had really messed up with the innocent attempt to fix my slipper. The nurse finally came and helped me back to bed where she checked my incision and re-bandaged it. She checked back three more times before shift change and decided that it had most likely been blood that was trapped behind the incision and that no harm had been done. What a HUGE relief!

I had gone into the hospital with a sinus problem due to the southeast weather extremes but it didn’t cause any real problems for me until my last morning in hospital. I was restless and tired of lying in bed so got up to sit in the chair. I had not been there long when my sinuses decided to dump. I was sitting there choking and gagging; too far from the bed to call for help and naturally my door was closed so no one could hear me. (One big reason I always prefer to have my door open but I had closed it myself so that I could wash up in privacy). I started having problems breathing due to the amount of drainage and my fear. I finally calmed enough to say one of my most heartfelt prayers ever (and believe me I AM undeserving!): “Jesus help! As undeserving as I am I need you! I can’t breathe, this coughing and gagging is hurting me and I’m scared. PLEASE go before our Father and ask Him to take this away. I can’t deal with this on top of the surgery pain!” I then got up and moved to my bed where I called the nurses station and asked for some pain pills. Within seconds of calling I needed a box of tissues. My sinuses were clearing out so fast that I could barely keep up!! The next thing I knew, the nurse was there with my pills too. WOW that was fast! I popped them back, lay down and napped immediately. When I woke up less than an hour later I felt like an entirely new person! \o/ I spent the rest of the day telling anyone who would listen about the AWESOME thing that God had done for me. Not only did He answer my prayers but even went beyond them and moved the nurse to quick action and blessed me with a nap that removed the pain that I had been dealing with. He is truly amazing and I can’t praise Him too much. Wooooo hoooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

I do have one minor complaint about my stay. It’s minor now but at the time it was pretty important since I was convinced that they were sincerely trying to starve me to death. I last ate around 8 PM Tuesday evening when Ernie and I went to a nice restaurant in Emporia for his office Christmas party. As good as that food was it wasn’t intended to carry me for three days. The day after surgery, they brought me a bowl of beef bullion, Jell-O and a tiny glass of unsweetened tea with sugar packets and a cup of sugary cranberry juice for breakfast. I’m not a juice drinker anyway and I can tolerate unsweetened tea when necessary but the bullion was tolerable for only 4 or 5 sips. There are few foods that I refuse to eat (obviously) and two of those are green and orange Jell-O. This meal had green and judging from the sugar packets was no where near sugar free. Lunch time arrived and it was more of the same only this time it was chicken bullion and orange Jell-O with tea, sugar packets and apple juice. I told the woman who brought it to take it away since I could tolerate bullion of any flavor only so much and that being diabetic I couldn’t eat any of the rest. I KNOW that I informed everyone from admitting to the OR that I’m diabetic but still her mouth dropped open and she said no one had told dietary! She went to the nurse’s station and called downstairs to tell the dietician then returned for my tray and said they would straighten it out. When dinner arrived I hoped to find SOMETHING palatable on my tray. I can’t describe my disappointment when I discovered more of the same waiting, only the Jell-O color had changed. I was starting to get used to this not eating business.
Next morning breakfast time arrives and the hunger pains are kicking pretty good so I watched anxiously for the dietary cart to roll off of the elevators just a short distance from my room. My hope for a nutritious breakfast was soon dashed when I found…..yup more of the same! This time however they had included a cup of black coffee instead of iced tea and the requisite four packs of sugar. I spotted the dietary aide (a guy this time) out in the hallway and asked him to take it away once again explaining that I’m a DIABETIC. He just shrugged and told me to tell my aide who just happened to be passing by at that moment. She in turn told me that I would have to call dietary myself! She also offered the opinion “you know SOME diabetics DO eat Jell-O!” to which I responded “Yes we do—if it’s SUGAR FREE”. I dialed the number and informed the woman who answered that I was getting pretty hungry on this forced diet plan and explained yet again that as a diabetic I couldn’t tolerate all of this sugar. She was shocked and said no one had told them that I was *diabetic* and that she would contact the nurse’s station to straighten it out. At last—someone appeared to be listening. I knew I would be released later that day so when Ernie called to check on me I told him that if they didn’t feed me something soon then to plan our first stop out of the parking lot to be for food. Lunch time rolled around all too slowly but I controlled my enthusiasm when I saw the carts roll off of the elevator. In fact I sort of ignored the person who brought the tray until I glanced over and saw an actual plate with a cover on it. This could only mean FOOD and by golly there were Sweet n Low packs next to my iced tea! I’m not real sure since I literally inhaled the food but I recall that they had sent me a tiny salad (with dressing pack!) and a grilled chicken sandwich, breast on the small side but I wasn’t complaining, with lettuce and thin tomato slice. They forgot salt but I ate so fast that I didn’t have time to miss it for long. Oh and of course the required Jell-O which I ate in some confidence that it was sugar free. If I had it all to do over I think I would call my doctor’s office and had it straightened after the second tray of sugar laden yet blah food though.

I’m SO thankful for many things! I’m thankful that Jesus held onto my hand even after I was out (I simply trust that fact), for the pain medicine, for the AWESOME way that my desperate prayers were answered, for my wonderful husband who was, is and always has been a fantastic partner, the prayers of so many who truly care about me, for FOOD, my family for taking good care of me since I’ve been home, my treasured Dr. Heroux and my friend Martha who referred me to her, the Tigger genes that allow me to bounce back so quickly that I inherited from my dad God bless him up there in heaven and also for my stuffed Santa which the nurses gave to me to use as my “coughing buddy”. He was always close by while in the hospital in case a cough hit me. Once home I showed him to the grandkids and explained what he is for. Every time I’d even look like I was going to cough they would take off in separate directions looking for “Nana’s Santa!” As I heal and cough less often they realize that I need him less. In fact Jarod at 3 ½ has decided that Nana no longer needs Santa and wants to claim him as his own.
Have I mentioned how thankful I am for my grandkids?

All in all it wasn’t such a bad time. The awful female related problems will never be a concern again. I found a fabulous GYN; of course this happens just as I no longer really need one! The nursing care though not stellar wasn’t as bad as many had tried to prepare me for (having worked in hospitals for so many years though long ago, helped me cope there). I can’t say that it’s a wonderful place but I can say that it’s not as bad as some think. After all I survived and am thriving!


A couple of you may not have read the story that my friend Caron recently e-mailed to me. Of course I had to wonder just what kind of “friend” would send such a hysterical story to someone 3 days post-op major abdominal surgery. It’s such a funny thing though that all is forgiven. And I’ll try to recall this every time I get tired from my “job” as Stay-at-home Nana.

Here it is:

LOVE MY JOBThis is even funnier when you realize it's real!The next time you have a bad day at work... think of this guy.Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana. Heperforms underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.Below is an E-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radiostation 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.Needless to say, she won.Hi Sue:Just another note from your bottom-dwelling brother. Last week I had abad day at the office. I know you've been feeling down lately at work, so Ithought I would share my dilemma with you to make you realize it's notso bad after all. Before I can tell you what happened to me, I first mustbore you with a few technicalities of my job.As you know, my office lies at the bottom of the sea. I wear a suit tothe office. It's a wet suit. This time of year the water is quite cool.So what we do to keep warm is this: We have a diesel powered industrialwater heater. This $20,000 piece of equipment sucks the water out of thesea. It heats it to a delightful temperature. It then pumps it down tothe diver through a garden hose, which is taped to the air hose.Now this sounds like a darn good plan, and I've used it several timeswith no complaints. What I do, when I get to the bottom and start working, istake the hose and stuff it down the back of my wet suit. This floods mywhole suit with warm water. It's like working in a Jacuzzi.Everything was going well until all of a sudden, my butt started to itch.So, of course, I scratched it. This only made things worse.Within a few seconds my butt started to burn. I pulled the hose out frommy back, but the damage was done. In agony I realized what had happened.The hot water machine had sucked up a jellyfish and pumped it into my suit.Now, since I don't have any hair on my back, the jellyfish couldn't stick toit. However, the crack of my butt was not as fortunate.When I scratched what I thought was an itch, I was actually grinding thejellyfish into the crack of my butt.I informed the dive supervisor of my dilemma over the communicator. Hisinstructions were unclear due to the fact that he, along with five otherdivers was all laughing hysterically.Needless to say I aborted the dive. I was instructed to make threeagonizing in-water decompression stops totaling thirty-five minutes before I could reach the surface to begin my chamber dry decompression.When I arrived at the surface I was wearing nothing but my brasshelmet.As I climbed out of the water the medic, with tears of laughter runningdown his face, handed me a tube of cream and told me to rub it on mybutt as soon as I got in the chamber. The cream put the fire out but I couldn'tpoop for two days because my butt was swollen shut.So next time you're having a bad day at work think about how muchworse it would be if you had a jellyfish shoved up your butt.Now repeat to yourself, "I love my job, I love my job, I love my job"