Mommy was super busies selling all her blankets and playing with her rocks. But that’s ok because after I got to play spelunking and eats fruits.
Today was a good day.
Mommy was healing so well from getting rid of that pesky gull batter but then someone hit her box on wheels and she got another owie. She had to see the scary white coat people again, and was gone all night and came home with more ouchies. Moosie was angry. I gave her lots of snuggles and even listened and stayed off her tummy. But I could tell something else was wrong.
Mommy had the ick. I could smell it. Daddy got it first though. He was coughies and his voice was all deep and scary like he was mad, but he just had the ick. He was so ick that his works said “NO MORE WORKING” and he got to come home and snuggle Moosie one day. That was OK.
Then Mommy started coughies, which made her tummy hurt. And all the coughies and all the ouchies made her head all warm (which was nice because when I snuggled by her head she was toasty). But she got the ick and had to go see more doctors and get more medicines. I am so glad I don’t have to take as much medicines as Mommy.
The good thing about Mommy and Daddy having the ick is that all they want to do is snuggles. I got to play spelunking all day today with Mommy and it was the best day ever. I don’t want Mommy and Daddy to have the ick anymore, but I like it when they are home and want to snuggle with Moosie.
I guess I’ll just have to save some of my biskies so that they don’t make them feel too much better…
Once upon a time, my Jeep took it in the back from a sub compact and he didn’t even buy me dinner first. The roads were absolute crap as I was returning home from calling hours (this detail is to evoke sympathy. The honest truth is that I was on my way home from Wegman’s where I stopped to grab Sushi after calling hours…). I suppose getting rear ended hard enough to cause abdominal pain at my surgery site (remember, I just had my gall bladder removed at this point) was probably a good thing because we later learned that my body is not ok with sushi right now. Damn missing gall bladder.
So, due to the ab pain around a fresh surgery site, I was shipped to the ER. Has anyone ever been to the ER on a night when there is terrible weather? Let me tell you, it is not fun. Lots of accidents, lots of people just trying to find a warm bed and warm food. And then there is me. Not my first rodeo. So, I’m on a stretcher and wheeled into the ER triage for ambulances… there are about 6 of us waiting and I am definitely not on the urgent list. But the really cool part of all of this is that the hospital is so packed, there are no beds available out of the 40 plus ER beds so everyone is chilling in beds or recliners in the hallway. Absolutely NO privacy.
After about a 45 minute wait just to be triaged I am shipped out into the waiting room because, my issues were not urgent enough to be seen at that moment. Granted I’m in quite a bit of pain at this point coupled with the anxiety that something happened to my surgery site and I could be bleeding internally. I am also over dramatic.
Three. Hours. Later.
I am finally called back. I am wheeled past beds stacked on beds and people in various states of health. Finally they take me around the corner in an isolated part of the hospital. This seems nice. Except its not nice. It’s the psych ward. That is filled. With psychiatric hold patients. And a drunk guy. My transport hands me a gown and sends me off to a “bathroom” to change. I put bathroom in quotes because there is no lock on the door, no lid on the metal toilet, and buttons to turn a small stream of water on. It’s like a prison bathroom and I suddenly get a cruel look at how we treat those with mental illness (if the baron rooms that looked like glorified horse stalls didn’t give it away on my travel back).
So, I lay in bed in the hall — no call button so thank god I didn’t need anything — waiting for the process to get started: vitals, meds, diagnostics. Nothing. Hours. And nothing. An hour and a half a DOCTOR finally sees me and ships me off for a CT. Mind you I have not had vitals taken since the ambulance ride. I could have been dead and no one would have noticed. CT happens rather quickly and then I am wheeled back to my spot. An hour goes by and FINALLY a nurse comes to stick an IV in me to get some meds going. Still no vitals, though.
I should have put nurse in quotation marks because she was awful. I know her job is stressful and there were a lot of people demanding her attention, but her bedside manner left something to be desired. This was not my first hospital adventure and I have been poked and prodded enough to know that you are not getting a needle in my arm for an IV — hand is the best place on me. So I tell her that. She proceeds to fight with my arm. The needle is jabbing me anywhere but the vein. She’s gone through the vein at this point and I can only tell because it begins to burn with a fire I have never felt before and I exclaim that it is burning. She doesn’t care. She keeps fighting. So at this point I not so nicely say, “I’d rather it go in my hand than to continue to fight for it in my arm.” And she snaps and says, “It’s right there!” And after a few more squeals of pain she finally rips it out, doesn’t block the blood flow, and jabs an IV into my hand and walks away.
At this point I’m hungry, cold, miserable and just want to go home so I just silently sob. A patient care tech notices and brings me a pillow and a blanket and asks me if I’m okay. Bless him. He also spent the time to talk to the drunk across the hall from me. He was great. My “nurse” not so much.
I’m loaded up with morphine (that at this point doesn’t help) and finally another half hour or so later and the doctor comes to tell me I have some internal bruising from the accident and I’m sent home.
This is when things get really fun. Remember the part at the beginning of my story when I told you that the roads were absolute crap? Well, they were much worse upon discharge at 2 in the morning. Ice and snow mixed to form this hard rough tiny mountain like texture on the road. We were in my husbands TINY sedan that sits about six inches off the ground. The drive home was TERRIFYING as his car struggled to cut through whatever the hell was on the uncleaned and untraveled roads.
But by some grace of the gods, we made it home. My husband is a champ for more reasons than just his driving skills.
How is my Jeep you ask? Jeep was saved by my trailer hitch. Just some minor damage to the bumper and muffler. His car? Well, it hit my trailer hitch. Hard. Fast. His car was shredded. Trailer hitch plus sub compact is not a great combination.
And that’s the love story and my last (hopefully) visit to the hospital. That place is just the gift that keeps giving, though, because it gave Dustin and I the FLU! Dustin was down all week and I have been down and out all weekend.
This black cloud will get better though. At least all this rest has given me a chance to be productive and I am HAPPY to announce that my online shop is FINALLY open. You can shop LuLaRoe, jewelry, or Lemongrass Spa 24/7 by visiting http://www.catsandcouture.com/shop
I hope you find something you love! I also hope that you NEVER have your own car vs. car love story.
… Ace apparently has fallen into the same YouTube holes I have…
And yes I need all seven of those drink containers currently. #trashmonster
…is there no modesty left in the world?
If you’re wondering why I look so nervous it’s because my Mommy has a big ouchie. She was gone all day and all nights for eleventy days and the scary people in white coats had to remove her gull batter. I knew that bird was a problem and I’m glad he’s not swinging his bat in Mommy’s tummy anymore.
But Mommy is still super ouchies. She has lots of ouchies on her tummy because that gull batter put up a fight. This makes Moosie sad because I can’t play spelunking or make biskies on her. I’m not very good at listening when Mommy says no, so I have to sleep with Brother Boop until I can listen better.
Luckily Mommy has lots of doctors that makes her feel better. Dr. Daddy gives her all the crackers and tea she can drink. He even buyed her a scary grabby claw so she can picks stuff up (but not Moosies.)
Dr. Rat plays guard jerk and keeps all the other jerks from barking and jumping on Mommy’s ouchies. She follows Mommy when she goes walkies and gets extra cookies for being a good rat.
Dr. Squeak has been screamies whenever Mommy goes potties. He doesn’t like when he can’t see her. He even snuggles gentle with her and he hates snuggles.
Dr. Buddha gives Mommy the best medicines by sucking on her pajamas and making biskies on her arm for comfort. He sleeps with Mommy every night and lets her be all day so she can do Mommy stuffs. He’s a pain in the butt little brother, but he’s a very good doctor for Mommy.
Mommy felt good enough to play with her special blankies tonight on her magic flashy box. Even if she had to sit down the whole time.
Maybe I’ll figure out how to listen better and not step on Mommy’s ouchies. Until then, I’ll let the other doctors do their work and just make sure they’re doing their jobs. I’m good at watching…
So my problematic gall bladder is out. I swear I am happier than I appear. Currently in way more pain than my gall bladder ever caused me, but I suppose that is what happens when someone removes one of your organs–even if it is an unnecessary one.
So here’s how this all went down. Over three months I have been battling gall bladder pain. Been to the hospital three times, my doctor and 2 different GIs. I’ve had 4 ultrasounds all coming back normal (no stones) and a HIDA scan showing an ejection fraction (or EF) of 96%… which my first GI said was normal. Demanded a new GI at my last hospital visit and he looked at my history and said, “I’m not touching this, you’re going to a surgeon…” Finally.
Here’s the thing, according to my amazing surgeon, anywhere from 35-75% on a HIDA scan is normal. Less than that is indicative of stones, more than that is called a hyperkinetic? gall bladder. Basically it’s overworking. And he took one look at that plus my family history (mom, aunt, grandma and a few cousins) and said that thing is coming out.
February 28th. I just had to get to February. Got this.
Made it through the holidays by heavily medicating. Had a good start to the new year until I decided to eat bland sauce and bread. Now let me preface by saying I had lobster, beef and shrimp over the holiday… and no worse for wear. Sauce and bread had me attacking from 3AM Thursday morning until around 3AM Friday morning. Concern set in at work when I began to get left side pain, and was (trigger warning) upchucking thick mucus. I was done. So I called my surgeon, thinking he’d send some high strength pain med or something.
My experience with doc offices in the past have been… less than stellar. I leave messages with nurses and wait 2-4 hours for a call back. Not this one. Direct line to a nurse who said “hang on I want you to talk to the doc.” Doc then proceeds to say, “Well, sometimes things can’t wait. I’m operating at the hospital tomorrow so if the pain is that bad I want you to come in.”
And that’s what I did. Headed in the snow storm of the century to the hospital 45 minutes away. Not my normal hospital, and their ED leaves something to be desired, but given the weather I wasn’t shocked they were slammed (everyone looking for a warm bed). From 3PM to 11PM I hung out in “Sub Waiting” which was this sketchy room filled with sketchy people in various states of “sickness”. See below the selfie session I had to endure from our neighbors.
I had to pee in a cup in a bathroom that was covered with everyone’s bodily secretions and a part of someone’s weave. All of this while still in my LuLaRoe (sorry, favorite Nicole– you will get a deep clean later). Pain control was not ideal. Any other time I went to the hospital for an attack they loaded me up with IV morphine and sent me flying. Tylenol with Codeine was their drug of choice and I only got that when I was officially admitted at 9pm. My gall bladder was done and I was done. Finally, I was admitted under the surgery service to a bed upstairs by 11pm.
Thankfully, someone was watching out for my sanity because I ended up in a private room down a quiet hall. I was able to stop using my coat as a blanket and was given a gown, loaded up with ringers (hydration to prepare for surgery) and a plastic hat to pee in.
Yes I kept my socks, and yes I rocked my black leggings up until surgery.
Didn’t sleep much as the pain wasn’t subsiding until early morning and every hour someone was coming in to give me more meds, check vitals and apologize that they couldn’t give me any food or drink per the doctor (not that I really wanted anything despite my hunger pains).
Was told early Friday morning I would be an add on sometime that afternoon to the surgery schedule. Hubby took a half day from work to come eat Subway in front of me (smelled so good he almost had to leave the room) and watch me sleep. By 4pm he had to drive home to feed and take care of the dogs. No notice of surgery at this point.
By 7:00pm I was convinced I’d be stuck there over the entire weekend waiting for surgery on Monday, but soon a nurse came in to tell me they were coming to get me! Luckily hubby was already on his way back trudging through more snow and ice to get to me. I was wheeled across the hall to the OR and put in pre-op. Hubby met me there and kept me comfy while I saw my doctor, who jokingly said, “Didn’t want to wait anymore, huh?” (actually I was rather enjoying the what bland food will set me off today game) and my Russian anesthesiologist who told me how things would work. Doc said if all went well, I could go home that night. By 8pm I was being wheeled into the OR. I was slid onto the table and that’s the last thing I remember. That Russian sure was good at his job.
I had never had surgery before. My goal was to have one of those internet viral reactions where I was funny as hell and made famous from the reaction to anesthesia. That was not the case. I remember waking up screaming. My whole body hurt. And I had to pee, which also hurt. The nurses were trying to be patient with me, but I was disturbing the other patients. Basically, I was a little shit. Eventually they loaded me up with pain meds, gave me my clothes and told me to get dressed. They gave me saltines which tasted so good I cried a little so they gave me a pocketful to take home. I apologized several times for “being a shit” And after being read my discharge instructions, they sent me home. I do remember asking if I could keep my gall bladder in a jar. No one was amused by that.
A quick stop to pick up pain meds at the 24/7 pharmacy and driving through some of the worst conditions we’ve had all winter and I was home. My husband is amazing and kept us on the road, a task I probably could not have done even with a functioning gall bladder. By quarter to 1 this morning, I was home.
The last 18 hours have been filled with pain pills, ibuprofen, jello cups, saltines, heat pads, naps and kitty snuggles. Though, Buddha is not impressed that I wouldn’t let him make biscuits on my belly and hasn’t snuggled with me since. I have a drainage tube attached to me that will come out in a few days and three tiny incisions less than an inch in length forming my own personal Bermuda Triangle (get it, cause my gall bladder went missing… I’ll go home.)
I’ll follow up with my hero, aka my surgeon, in a week and hopefully will be cleared to go to work. In the meantime lots of R&R, jewelry making and kitty snuggles are in my future.
See you later, gall bladder. Thanks for nothing.