Well, I lived! And it sucked! And a week later it still sucks! And I whine a LOT. Quick bullets before I literally pass out:
* My mom was there at the hospital!! I didn’t know I’d want her there. Didn’t know I needed her there. But she knew, and she was there, and that was more awesome than I have words for. I will always need my mommy.
* The anestheseologist is a lier, I think. He came in a few seconds before they wheeled me back and promised promised that he’d put some big anti-nausea stuff in me when they finished surgery so that wouldn’t be a worry… but
* I was in recovery for two and a half hours because I couldn’t stop throwing up. Totally foggy, just remember exasperated nurses saying “she’s throwing up again” and ” there’s quite a bit of blood in this vomit”. Lucky for my, that is such a hazy, foggy memory.
*Mom. In my room when they wheeled me out of recovery.
*OMFG. There aren’t enough acronyms. As I came out of my fog, the hurt started to set in. As the hurt set in, pain meds are offered. As pain meds are administered, the nausea sets in, again. As the nausea sets in, anti-nausea meds are offered. While the anti-nausea meds are administered, no eating is allowed. I haven’t had a bite to eat since SUNDAY. Since I am literally starving, I am nauseous, beyond the meds. Do you see where the problem comes in?
* It was late Wednesday morning before I was offered a fucking saltine cracker after begging begging begging. I got my cracker, and all was better.
*Still not able to take pain meds because of the nausea.
*Ten thousand feet of gauze packing is removed from my much abused lady bits Wednesday morning. To say that didn’t feel good would be the biggest understatement ever uttered. Catheter removed at the same time. Ditto the comfort level.
*Try to pee an hour later, it’s a no
*Try an hour after that, get a tiny dribble. Belly ultrasound shows my bladder is “dangerously ful”l (?) and am cathed again to drain it. It was a lousy 560 ml, and I know I have a 700+ capacity. Not dangerously full, but whatever.
*diligently get up at least every hour to try to pee to avoid being cathed again because dammit, that hurts. It was literally an hour before discharge time before I was successfully able to empty more than 50% of my bladder ( those little measuring ultrasound thingies are magic!). I *think* I’m doing much better now, but how would I know? Pitfalls of a large bladder and cystocele repair.
* Blessed with one night of Toradol on Wednesday night, and I actually sleep and DON’T vomit. Yay me. They don’t want to dose me any more nor send me home with any because of the risks to your kidneys? Which confuses me since that’s what was prescribed to me when I had kidney stones? Anyhoodle….
* I have five holes in my belly ( that they glued shut, and good gawd is that irritating now, and one of them was apparently stitched AND glued, found the stitches last night when some of the glue flaked off), one on my pubic bone, one on each labia, and a monster of an incision on my perineum. I am also the worlds most delusional fool, thinking it’d feel like “some cuts on my belly and an episiotomy, piece of cake.” I would rather go in for monthly episiotomies than deal with a rectocele repair again. Ouch. Ouch ouch ouch. And I don’t think there is any comparison for the sore belly you get from a laparoscopic surgery…. I’m sure many of you’ve been there before and know what I’m talkin’ ’bout. Also, shoulders still ache from manipulations in surgery and surgical belly gas stuff settling in the muscles.
*My uterus is gone. They chopped it up and pulled it out of my belly button.
* I have had zero vaginal bleeding. I’m one of the lucky ones. Doc says I’ll probably never have any kind of bleeding again. I did keep my cervix and it is possible to have a moment of spotting monthly, but he’s thinking I’m not one of those people. Woo hoo.
* It has been a week and I still feel like complete shit. SHIT. I whine, I’m a whiner, but I usually get over things pretty quickly. This is not quickly. Two hours after I get up for the day I need to go take a nap. I usually end up taking yet another freakin nap in the afternoon. Emptying the dishwasher feels like running a marathon. I haven’t done shit for my kids aside from filling up the crock pot, my night in shining armor husband has just been magical at keeping them entertained and quiet. My mom came home with us and stayed through Sunday, and that was amazing, but it’s been a WEEK. I’m sick of not having the chutzpah to actually care for my kids. I hate this. I hate that sitting/laying down/standing up hurts, no matter what. I hate that I can’t get out of bed/off the couch/accross the room without sounding like an old lady. I hate that I can’t stand up straight. I hate that just picking up my stupid arm makes me tired. I hate that peeing is such a big deal and that I mentally calculate the fullness of the toilet bowl to wonder if I peed enough. I hate that my intestines loathe me to this degree, any kind of intestinal movement HURTS. No wonder new babies cry all the time as their bellies get used to processing food! I hate complaining and whining and relying on everyone around me to do the things that I damn well should be able to do.
* I love that my scale has an end-of-day weight that is 6 pounds less than my normal pre-surgery first morning weight. Even if I do have a larger belly now than before ( thank you, swelling. You have topped my day off nicely)
*am slightly appalled at the number of messages I’ve gotten asking about/congratulating me on my PLASTIC SURGERY. People. This was not plastics/elective. In fact, most parts of me look quite a bit worse, now. Five big puckering holes in my belly and a lady place that looks to be covered in ground beef and not at all ladylike. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
*again, my crotch hurts. Also? Am slightly terrified of what 6 weeks from now will bring as the dainty bits? Are MUCH MORE DAINTY than I have ever had them. I hope he didn’t take that part of my concern too zealously and over-fix….
* feel free to scrub your brain out after reading the previous sentences. Just sharin’ the glow, y’all.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND I’m spent.
*eta* Fantastic. Just great. Called the doc just questioning if maybe perhaps this isn’t normal? Or am I really just a giant weenie? And now I get to pay fifty bucks in gas to drive back up there tomorrow for them to get a private peep show. Probably an infection. Maybe not. Unwilling to try antibiotics without seeing things which is just stoooopid because what can it hurt? Also? My hormones are crazy and this is making me cry. Which is also stooooopid.