My "series of unfortunate events" began Tuesday morning when I woke up in Hogarth,-the travel trailer parked in my driveway, because John was working a night shift.
I drove to Parrsboro at 5:30am to get him and felt some -central, under my ribcage, "pressure?"... - that started to annoy me... wasn't heartburn-ish... almost felt "pulled muscle-ish".
I ignored it.
(I can feel the women reading this nodding to themselves... yup.. deny deny deny you are sick...)
John ends up getting late off work. No problem. I get back just in time for my 10:30am shift but I cannot log in.
My new married name has finally been processed at work and now alllllllll my programs need to be updated... and that was a 4 hour night mare on hold with our IT team.
About 7pm I had two helpings of vegan shephard's pie. (It was super "2 helpings" yummy). The pressure started to build. Within 2 hours I was getting quite uncomfortable. By 10pm I took two Advil. John suggested it could be "constipation"... I tried to explain my pain was much too high to be constipation.... but in the end... I couldn't explain it other wise.
This would be my ultimate downfall. I focused all my attention to it being "bowel-ish".
I took some Restorilax and rubbed the pain/pressure up under my rib-cage for the next 4 hours. I went back and forth from the couch to the bathroom hoping something would give.
At 2am Wednesday morning I was angry I couldn't just "fall asleep and sleep it off". John asked how I was doing and if I wanted to go to the hospital. I told him I wasn't going to go to the hospital and have them tell me to go home, take a laxative, and poop.
I started googling "bowel pain"... and went down a rabbit hole of IBS videos.
By 5am I was done researching and waiting for my pain to go away. I woke up John and begrudgingly... we went to the hospital.
John went to park the car and I went in. While waiting for triage I finally started crying; the pain was intense and i was tired of it.
I was eventually registered and put in an exam room and John came in to wait with me. I was so glad to see him. I really didn't think he would be allowed in. The hospitals in Nova Scotia weren't really letting in visitors and family until the next morning.
Then Dr Ferguson came into the room and within 2 minutes he decided it was most probably my gallbladder.
I was wildly annoyed. I hadn't looked up gallbladder issues!! Gallbladders can have stones? I could die? He told me I would be given some meds for the pain right away and then go for an ultrasound and xray. I was moved to a much more comfortable bed in another room and given morphine. Gravol was offered... but I explained I wasn't a puker... bahahahahahaha
(famous last words)
Morphine kicked in and I went from a 9.5 pain to 0.5.... for 2 whole minutes...
It was lovely.
... then the pain came back... and it came back a bit worse and I counted upwards out loud... from a 2 to a 4 to an 8 and I could feel the pain creeping towards my heart.... I started puking into the garbage can John placed infront of me.
The nurse pushed more morphine and I asked for gravol... because ughhh i hate puking.... but the pain didnt go away for 10 minutes - (felt longer)... I just remember closing my eyes holding my ribcage and whimpering... "make the pain go away... make the pain go away"...
My bed started moving as the nurse moved the bed to the end of a hallway, past 4 other hallway patients, by the ambulance bay doors.
I had bloodwork taken, then an EKG from an unprofessional nurse who DID NOT pull my curtain for privacy. She decided it was ok to expose my bared chest to the hallway and anyone walking by (porters/patients/cleaning staff/paramedics and their patients being brought into the hospital)... I was mortified, but decided I would complain about her later.
I went to get an ultrasound and Xrays. Then back to my Hallyway. I met Dr McWilliams and he explained the gallbladder needs to come out. They moved me up to Maternity.
John left to go home. He usually plays a game with some guys on Wednesday nights and I assured him that it would be ok if he went to go play. I would be in surgery from 5pm til ??? so why should he wait around?
He left and I tried to nap before they came to take me for surgery.
An older lady porter came before 5pm with a wheelchair. I got into the wheelchair. She took me to the O.R.
The look... on the ER nurse's face... when she saw me in a wheelchair..... was priceless... if she could have killed that porter with that look.... but instead... she just said exaerbatedly... "we dont have stretchers here.... ".... the porter says "oh.... oh.... well... i guess i could go and try and find one?...."
The nurse turned her attention to me.
The nurse got increasingly more annoyed with the mishaps of others. There was bloodwork paperwork missing.
I gotta be honest when I say I really knew I could die during surgery and I was ok with it. Seriously. I am really tired of life a lot and I thought, if I die during surgery... its done... i'm gone... its over... I have had an amazing life... did lots of things... but I am tired of being sad... if I live? great... I'll keep doing whatever I am doing... If i die? well.. then that is the end... no more saddness... yay...so be it.
I then met the anesteiologist. She was adorable. She looked at my bloodwork (they found it)... and told me i need to eat more bananas and potatoes... They discussed the risks of surgery... blah blah blah...
Please keep in mind this is the same rigamaroll as my endometrial ablation done in July. Really fresh in my memory. I roll through the questions they get me in the OR. They get me to breathe in the mask. I am completely calm. Almost bored. I just want it over with. They seem concerned that I am NOT more concerned.
lol.
I have had ALOT of different surgeries. This will not phase me.
I am breathing in the mask air. Nothing is happening yet. Then finally... things get hazy... and I drift....
Time passes... in silence...
My internal clock knows that time has past by. I start to hear noises in the room. I am a little cold and I can feel a bit of pain. I open my eyes, but its blurry. I close them and focus on the sounds. At least two nurses and roaming around the room... cleaning? putting stuff away... and on the radio I hear a radio bingo going on.
I speak up "I am a little cold". A nurse puts another blanket on me. I listen to them chatter away and I try and open my eyes a couple more times. I say "Can I have a little something for the pain?".....
They take their time... but I eventually can feel the sharpening pain dull off ...
I can feel myself being wheeled to my Maternity ward room. There had to be 6 people in there. They explain that I will need to "scooch" over from the OR stretcher to the bed. I just want rest at this point.
My brain reacts. No frigging problem! I am gonna scooch like I was born to scooch!!! With my eyes closed I feel to the left and the bed is there. I began scooching and everyone is commenting what a "rockstar" I am...
yeah yeah...
I bet you say that to all the patients that can scooch.
I get the best rest. I do have a nurse come in every hour for vitals but I pay her no mind. I rest.
Around 9pm I message John that I am awake but super groggy.
He says he will be there after 10pm.
John shows up with my charging cord. I was a little disappointed there were no flowers or card or teddy bear. (I have always given my kids teddy bears for overnight stays in hospitals).
I guess I am just a hopeless romantic that way.
He leaves and I ask him to bring me some vegan yogurt from our fridge for the next day.
The morning comes and John shows up. No card. No flowers. No teddy bear. No yogurt.
He does have a lot going on in his life. But I was still hurt. I wanted to feel special since I almost died and all. I mention the lack of "hey you almost died let me bring your something to brighten up your day a bit" and he gets offended.
Whatever.
I'll buy my own damn teddy bear. (and I did, today).
:)
Dr McWilliams showed up and explained my limitations:
No working out for 6 weeks. (My brain immediately goes "Nov 1st... 75 Hard".)
I could work the next day as long as I took it easy. (He said that he had his gallbladder out years ago and did surgeries the next day!)
I can take slow short walks ...and after the 2nd week ... walk more... the 3rd week... slow jog.
I guess this is the time to eat soft and focus on me. Really Really REALLY focus on me.
Plans are radically changing.
I bought my own teddy bear.
I can do anything.
;)
