Four weeks later...

First off, a picture for you. The date of this picture is February 19th, 2011.  

 

What, you say? Wasn't your surgery on JANUARY 19th, not February 19th? Why, yes you would be correct. You would also be correct if you then followed basic logic to realize that I am, in fact, in the hospital once again, this time for even longer. Here's why.

Monday, Valentine's Day, was great. My husband and I had a nice, quiet evening together watching a movie and exchanging a few simple gifts. I felt great physically that day, like I was finally overcoming the ordeal of surgery.

Then around 5am Tuesday morning, PAIN. A lot of it. It felt like someone had shoved a huge ball of gas just underneath the left side of my ribcage and it was trying to break free. I just lay there and moaned, cried out, writhed in pain. It hurt! I woke C up and had him help me down the hallway to the bathroom, where I felt release would come. It didn't. C went back to bed, and I kept sitting on the pot, trying in vain to find some relief. When it didn't come, I ventured back towards the bedroom.

I didn't make it.

I woke up just outside our bedroom door on the floor, C frantically calling my name and rubbing my side. I was so confused...did I fall out of bed? I asked. "No...you're still in the hallway, love." "Oh. So I passed out?" Apparently so! I crawled over to bed, one of the greatest feats of strength I have ever done, and heaved myself back onto the pillowtop, which usually brings so much comfort. I managed to keep my cries to a minimum so C could get some sleep before going to work.

The next morning, he hurriedly got ready for work while I made calls to work..."Um, yeah, last night was a bad night and I'm not going to make it in today..." C was so hesitant about leaving me, but somebody had to work that day! While he was gone, I just lay there in bed. I couldn't even sit up, didn't bother turning on the TV, didn't feel like I needed a book to read, just...lay there. And hurt.

He checked on me during his lunch break and brought home Gas-X, which did little to relieve anything. A man from our church came by and joined my husband in giving me a priesthood blessing, in which I was promised I would be made whole. Back to bed I went, leaving Cody to sleep on the couch because any jostling of the bed just hurt too much.

Wednesday morning, I woke up and called Ginny (the nurse from the UV Surgical Weight Loss Program). Asked her what to do--she said she'd talk to my surgeon and call me back. Next thing I know, we're on our way to the hospital to get a CT scan. It was sooo hard to walk around, get in and out of cars, etc--especially since I was moving on no practically no food or water since Monday night, because it had been practically impossible to force myself to swallow anything. News came from the CT scan...not so good. There was a perforation, a small little hole below one of the staple lines on my small intestine. The doctors said they'd never seen this happen so late, four weeks after surgery. It's incredibly rare.

This meant I soon found myself checking in for surgery. Again. Instead of having my four-week check-up, I was going through pre-op again (except I did find out I was down to 365, woot woot!). They fixed the leak and now I'm in the hospital recuperating. Again.

The days since then have been hard for different reasons. One, because I arrived in such a state of dehydration and almost a state of kidney failure that I was kinda touch-and-go there for awhile. My blood pressure was dangerously low that entire first night, I was on constant oxygen, and they even kept me in the ICU for the first two nights so I would have more nurse attention. I was ordered to not try to get out of bed until at least Friday. I'm not supposed to eat or drink anything until MAYBE Monday, with possible discharge from the hospital itself on Wednesday (meaning a week-long stay).

Another reason it's been hard is just the emotional aspect of it. I've already been through this! I've already done the 3-4 week diet. I've already had to go through the "Ouch, my stomach hurts so much, can you pick this up off the floor for me, I need a pillow to cover my abdomen all the time" stages. And now I have to do it again.

But as hard as it has been, and as much as I have been upset about all of this, you know what? That won't change anything. I can be mad and bitter about having to recover again, or I can just take it in stride and even maybe look at it positively--hey, maybe I'll lose more weight this way, huh? ;) I'm really okay, but it has definitely been an ordeal.

But hey, if anyone out there wants to come visit me at UVRMC, I'm on the sixth floor, room 687. I love visitors! :) And I love all your words of support! I'm so humbled and grateful to have such good friends!