Last Monday meant exams were over and vacation could begin. Well, after a little doctor’s appointment. The doctor at Brock got my blood work back and suggested I see my family doctor to get an appointment with a gastroenterologist for a colonoscopy. I’ve been having stomach problems since I started taking medicine in the summer, and lately, there seemed to be a constant dull pain in my stomach. As much as a colonoscopy is gross, I was all for it, because I wanted to get better, darnit! We went to see the family doctor and he said he would see about getting me a referral to a gastro dude, and in the meantime, prescribed me Prevacid to help soothe my stomach and hopefully repair any damage from an ulcer or something.
Tuesday meant another blood test, my most hated of all doctor related thingies. Went to the lab with my dad, waited an awful long time (if you’re doing blood work, don’t do it in the morning if at all possible – way too busy then), which is the hardest part for me. Finally got in to see the blood doctor lady and requested I lie down, since these kind of things freak me out. “No wonder,” she said when she saw my veins, some of the thinnest, wiriest ones she’s seen. It took her three pokes to get anything. I asked if I’d be able to eat afterwards, since I had to fast for twelve hours before giving blood, and she said after what I’d been through, I was one of the most deserving people to get something to eat. Finally done and over with, had to give a urine sample, which I can never do on demand, so I ended up taking it home and sending my dad back with it later.
I’d also that day taken my first upped dose of Prozac, 1 1/2 up to 2 teaspoons. Took the Prevacid at night, two meltable tablets that didn’t taste all that bad, but it took a long time for me to get psyched up to take them. Was feeling kinda crappy, so decided to watch “Anne of Green Gables” with my mom in her room with her nice heated blanket. While we were watching, I suddenly felt like passing out and had to go to the bathroom to throw up and poop up. Gross when they happen at the same time. We were concerned, because this wasn’t supposed to be a side effect of the Prevacid. Calmed down a bit, back to watching TV, but continued to have constant dull pains with occasional sharp, shooting pains down my chest to my crotch.
My dad came upstairs to sleep, but I decided I wanted to stay in his bed and he said he’d sleep downstairs. I felt a little bad about it, but I just really didn’t want to be alone. This had all started around 9:00, and by 4:00, it was still the same. We contemplated for a few hours what we should do. Should we go to the hospital? Is it just gas? It didn’t seem like it; this was like no other pain I’d had before. It seemed to be more on the right side, and we thought that could be something to do with the appendix, so we got my laptop and started looking stuff up. We finally decided to be on the safe side and go to the emergency room. I didn’t want to call an ambulance because then they’d come with their sirens and the fire trucks and all that, even though it meant we would be seen sooner. I didn’t feel like I needed to be taken out in a stretcher. We woke up my dad and told him what was up, so over to the hospital we drove.
My mom and I waited in emergency while dad parked the car. Didn’t seem like a very “emergency” place to me, there were just a couple of ladies behind desks and on phones and not talking to us. I was a little irritated. Eventually, we were seen and the lady asked all kinds of questions, and after a looong while of getting up and sitting in different chairs and seeing different people, I was off to a room. A waiting room? There were four beds, people coming and going in the others. I lied down and my parents sat with me. Person after person came in asking the same questions until we could get our story straight. I don’t remember much else that happened there, but I think my mom went home and my dad would call as soon as he found out anything. After I had given a urine sample (which took awhile again), I got to have a drink – finally. But it turned out it was x-ray dye: two bottomless cups of warm water that tasted kind of like pool water, or water from somewhere gross that you don’t want to drink. It was to make my insides glow or whatever for when they did the x-rays. I remember doing some x-rays before the water, and that as she was taking the x-rays, I had a shooting pain. The dye was for the CT Scan I guess, and I had to drink another half cup of dye before going in. I had my eyes closed the whole time because I thought it was supposed to be scary and claustrophobic-y, but I guess maybe that’s an MRI. All the tests weren’t too bad, except I was in constant pain during all of them, and lots of waiting out in the hallways in my bed in between.
I guess when they were finally all done the tests, I got to my real room. I don’t remember much about that, but I must have been there for awhile, because I’d had lots of people in to see me and ask questions. I also had two ladies come in and one explained about the anaesthetic and another about this bag thing that I may have to have to carry my stool in, since I wouldn’t be able to “go” normally. Though they hoped that it wouldn’t come to that, they just wanted to prepare me for the possibility. There was still a lot they didn’t know, and they would have to make a lot of decisions during the surgery about what they would have to do.
Two other ladies came in and asked if they could test these temperature taking things on me, since I had a fever. I could’ve said no, but I figured I had nothing better to do, so I agreed. They just tested one side of my mouth, then the other side, then the middle for three minutes. It was to compare the accuracy of the quick tests to a more accurate old mercury thermometer test, or something. So that was kind of cool, if I got to help. They came in just before 4:00, which was when my surgery was scheduled for. I think that was four in the afternoon, but… I really have no idea.
Anyway, it turned out I had/have (?) a perforation in my bowel, so they had to remove a piece of it, I think he said about six inches, which to me, sounds like a lot, but I think isn’t really. I remember going into the room for the anaesthetic and immediately thinking how much it looked like the “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer” scene in “Sgt. Pepper’s”; the walls were the exact same colour, and I dunno, maybe there were some posters on the wall or whatever. I remember them moving me onto an uncomfortable table and my arms were spread out and I was in Jesus pose, which was a little alarming, but only for a short while. They put an oxygen mask on my face, which I guess then turned into the anaesthetic, because I don’t remember anything after that.
When I woke up, I think I was in the recovery room. Maybe I woke up in the elevator, I’m not sure. The girls in the recovery room were really nice. I can’t remember why I thought that, but my parents assure me I’m right. They gave me a “pain pump” which is a button I could press whenever I felt pain and it would give me a shot of morphine, but it was controlled so that I would only get a little bit every ten minutes or so. I’m told I pressed it eleven times and only got three doses, which was partly because I didn’t know if it was working, and partly because I was in pain and really didn’t want to be.
At the time, I felt like this was the most painful part. The first while in the recovery room, I just really wasn’t feeling it. And of course, before the surgery. I don’t remember the pain much any more, but I remember thinking it was really bad. I also remember thinking that I didn’t want to leave the recovery room, but I don’t know why. I think when I woke up, I had all these extra tubes sticking out of me. There was stuff in my neck to use to give me fluids as well as to take blood so they wouldn’t have to stick me all the time (which I am completely in support of). Then there was a thing in my nose that I still don’t understand, but it took out bile. And then the catheter, which I thought was for the butt, but which is actually a tube in your pee-pee (or your girl pee-pee) and your pee goes through it and into a little box and you are kind of peeing all the time without knowing it. And then there’s bandages and stick things in my arms for/from who knows what. But I wasn’t really very aware of this.
I couldn’t talk much, because I was still out of it, and I guess the thing down my nose/throat didn’t really help. I remember saying one word things like “paaain” and “bag?”. I was told there was no bag and surgery went really well. I don’t know how well this registered, because I think I asked a few times. I’ve forgotten most of what happened there, but I know I was lucid at the time. I don’t think I had my eyes open much though, I don’t know why. Maybe I was trying to sleep.
Then off to my real room, which is where I spent the next terribly boring eight (?) days.