Being

You are currently browsing the archive for the Being category.

Yesterday was a great day.  I felt the strongest I have had since my surgery.  Feeling rather invigorated, I walked around the block twice without any discomfort and lifted some light weights.  I could even shimmy well enough that I decided I would be fit to drive today.   It didn’t matter where – the grocery store, lunch, anywhere.  I was determined to get in the car and G-O.   Too bad my body had other plans, for, despite a very good night’s sleep and a lovely bath this morning, I am exhausted, mentally and physically.  I can only stand for brief periods without feeling woozy, and my large incision feels as though someone has taken a rather dull needle to sew it up again.  On top of that, even though my narcotics consumption is limited to one pain pill when I go to bed, my mind is very much like mush.  What the heck happened?

Then I saw all the splendor out in the garden and came upon this quotation by Ben Okri:

“Don’t depair too much if you see beautiful things destroyed.  Because the best things are always growing in secret.”   Suddenly, I felt better.  Not like I could drive or miraculously be pain free, but lighter in spirit, because I know this is true.

For those of you who haven’t visited our red roofed house, we have an old fence surrounding the back yard, nearing the end of it’s life in several places.  Next to this fence is the rocky area where we park the Subaru and, despite our best efforts, cultivate many species of dandelion, clover, and vetch.  I am the first to admit that it isn’t the prettiest sight to see.  But duck under the low apple branches and open the gate and there is loveliness in every corner:  flowers blooming, food growing, birds chirping, and bees zooming.

Then I thought of my own precious body and the secrets it’s keeping from me, even when I feel destroyed.  It is healing and growing in its own time and its own way.  I need only patiently wait, and all will be revealed.

Have you ever been at a Chinese restaurant and played the game where you add the words “in bed” at the end of every fortune?  For instance:  Something good come your way…in bed.  It is a silly way to get a laugh, made better by the often poor English translations.  I ask this because I feel like my life has been turned into a bizarre version of this game.  The photo shows just a few of the activities I’ve engaged in (in bed) since coming home: sleeping (lots and lots), painting, reading, and writing.  I’ve also listened to music (Radiohead at the moment), given myself a manicure, eaten (oh the crumbs!), watched A LOT of television, movies, and lucky for me, entertained visitors.

Despite enjoying some of the Queen-like aspects of such an existence, I must admit that it’s been rather hard on me, and, sometimes, the dear hubster.  I am a homemaker by trade.  I think this is the first time I’ve admitted it so honestly.  Though I love to write, this is my bread and butter.  I receive great pleasure from keeping house: gardening, cooking, cleaning, sweeping.  To say it has not been easy to hand over all of these duties is putting it mildly.  At first it sounds good, and really is, because there’s no way anyone should engage in such activities after a surgery like mine, but then the reality of not being able to do it sets in, and it gets depressing.  I have shed quite a few tears over not being able to make the bed, water the garden, or do the laundry entirely on my own.  I have also been a little wicked and expressed my distaste at how the hubster doesn’t do things like me.  Bless his GIGANTIC heart, he has taken it all in stride and forgiven me my cruelty.  Oh, do I love him so.

However, I have a BUT for you, dear readers!  This morning, I actually had enough strength to water the garden, sweep the main floor, tidy up the TV room (which is upstairs!), and clean the kitchen.  Though it took twice as long as it normally would, and I did much of the cleaning while sitting down, I did it!  Progress!

Here’s a bit more, too.  This is a photo Gregory took of me on Friday (on his Blackberry – we haven’t graduated to taking the camera everywhere).  I am wearing the Office Tiara (maybe I am a queen – tee hee!) while waiting for my specialist and my first post-operative check-up.  She removed the remainder of my steri-strips (ouch!) from the incisions and was pleased as punch at the rate of healing (I still feel a bit like Frankenstein – more emotional work to do there).  I was given the all-clear for another two weeks, as well as a new hormone prescription that we hope will, as Liz said, “Keep the endometriosis on the run.”

Speaking of being on the run, I still can’t drive (lack of mobility + narcotics consumption= bad idea), but haven’t really wanted to anyway – there’s no place like home.  I’ve walked to the neighbor’s house with the help of my cane (watch out Kramer), and that seems plenty far to me.   Same goes for this post.  It’s been a busy day.  I think it’s time for a nap!

Tags:

Hello my friends!

Gosh, it feels so good to be back in blogland!  Now if I could just be in the land of the fully mobile and conscious, that would be grand.  I am not complaining, however.  I feel better with each passing day, requiring smaller doses of narcotics to keep the pain down, while gaining more strength and mobility.  When I first got home, I was popping pills like crazy and had to use my walker (remember that?) every time I wanted to go anywhere, though my trips were mostly limited between our bed and the bathroom.  Going all the way to the kitchen was considered a big feat!

Now, I only need the walker about half of the time,  moving  quite freely on the first floor of the house.  I don’t know when I will muster up the strength to go upstairs, but, thanks to my superstar hubster and guest blogger, I have practically everything I need in our bedroom: a borrowed air conditioner for this hellish weather (107 today, ugh), a boom box, television, lap top, watercolors, books, and snacks!   It’s pretty darn cool, pun intended.

Endometriosis

Since a lot of people have asked questions about the endometriosis that led me to my surgery and this cozy bedroom lair, I thought I’d give a little information about it, and why it was causing so much trouble for me.  In a nutshell, endometriosis is when tissue from inside the uterus migrates elsewhere in the pelvic cavity (no one knows why, when, or how).  It is problematic because it has hormones and a monthly period just like the uterus, only it can’t exit the body like a normal period does, so it stays inside a woman’s abdomen, where it creates adhesions, like scar tissue.  Think about it like this – you spill something on the counter without cleaning it up right away.  When you return in a few hours, you touch the spot and your hand sticks to it, and sometimes even creates a kind of gooey, taffy-like bond.  Only with endometriosis, you can’t wash it off.  The taffy just spreads, connecting tissue and organs that have no business being such close neighbors, and, at least in my case, causing some pretty intense pain.

This is why my surgery could not be completed laparoscopically, and I had to be opened up.  My insides were so thoroughly bound and twisted with taffy-like adhesions that my doctor needed to get inside and carefully cut everything apart.  Thankfully, she was able to do so.  In the process, she removed my uterus (complete with a large adenomyoma), my fist-sized right ovary, both fallopian tubes, as many adhesions as she could, and then zapped the remaining visible endometriosis with a really good laser.  It’s no wonder it took over six hours!

Waves

Being in the hospital was a very emotional experience for me, like I was out at sea and riding a series of waves to shore, to home, and with each wave came a different emotion: gratitude, release, sadness, disbelief, joy, and wonder.  Gratitude –  I survived my surgery.  I was alive, and the healing process was underway.  Release – I am a pretty independent person, but in this situation, I had to, quite literally, hand my body over to strangers.  They fed me, clothed me, bathed me, all with great kindness, compassion, and respect.  Sadness – Even though I had never wanted children, I felt sad that this definitively left that choice out of my hands, though I guess it never really was.   I am not driving this bus!  Disbelief – For my recovery, I was placed in the Family Birthing Center, as the staff there would best know how to treat someone in my condition.  Perhaps this seems a logical choice for someone who has already had children, but for me, it seemed a bit, well, odd.  The lady who can never have children, infertile Myrtle, chockablock with mothers and babies?  This same feeling of disbelief, however, was replaced by Joy – To be in the most precious place in a hospital, to witness those first days of life, the first tiny cries, each beautiful babe swaddled, hatted, and loved by all.  Finally Wonder – There is so much kindness in the world, so many talented people doing their best work, so much love, and I am a living, breathing part of it all.

Thank You

Now it is time for some shout-outs.  First and foremost, to my amazing husband.  Through our eighteen years of  my increasing pain and suffering, he has always been a source of great love and support.  I could not imagine a better partner or friend, no siree Bob.  During my hospital stay, it was the hours he was there that I felt most safe.  Listening to him type away on his laptop or hearing his whispers in the dark, it was almost as if I were home and not hooked to a catheter, pulse oximeter, and an IV.  I was free.

My fantastic doctors.  First, to Petra Caruso, Naturopathic MD.  One of the most kind and compassionate health care professionals I have ever had the privilege to meet, she has been on this journey with me for nearly two years, constantly striving to find new, healthy solutions to make my life more comfortable.  When she realized our options had been exhausted, she recommended my awesome specialist, Dr. Liz Newhall.  Oh goodness, I am ever so pleased to have found her way while on my own.  She is an amazingly talented woman, highly educated in her craft of women’s health, with a heart and humor to match.  After my surgery, when I asked her how bad it was, and she told me that it was one of the worst cases she’d seen in her thirty years of practice, she said, “You would have won a blue ribbon at the fair, no doubt about it.”

YOU, the people of cyberspace, across the street, across town, across the world.  Thank you so much for your prayers, kind thoughts, cards, meals, visits, everything.  I felt and continue to feel so bouyed by all the love being sent my way, so incredibly grateful to be alive!

Tags:

Patio Time

Patio Time

Hi all! Colleen was discharged from the hospital yeserday, July 25th. As much relief as I feel having her home I am also extremely grateful for her experience in the hospital. It is absolutely fascinating to see how fast the body heals and changes.

I can’t help but be amazed, grateful, and not just a little shocked at all the external “hook-ups” that had to be connected to Colleen during this time:

  • Catheter – Well, we all have to pee don’t we? (no pun intended!)
  • “Pain Pump” – This particular device delivered morphine directly to the abdomen. I can’t really give many more details about this one since none of the nurses knew how to use it!
  • Blood Monitor – A very strange light connected to the end of Colleen’s finger, this was responsible for measuring the amount of oxygen her blood was carrying around. Effectively, this monitored how she was breathing.
  • Oxygen tube- As a result of the blood monitor going off, additional oxygen was needed for proper breathing, particular during periods of sleep. You know, the little tube under the nose…
  • IV – Ahh, the “intake tube” we’ve all seen in the movies.  I don’t really know how to describe seeing somebody not needing to eat real food and having everything (including medication) delivered ‘on-demand’. “Convenient”, “scary”, “miraculous”, “bizarre”… I could go on and on, but this is certainly one of the most critical components to Colleen being ok, for sure.

Needless to say, I am so happy to see her up and walking around and not needing one of the previously mentioned connections.  I know she has a long way to go before she is 100%, but what she has been through has been fairly eye-opening to me in my little software writing world.

Hematocrit Levels

(Grain of salt warning: I may have the numbers wrong here, but I don’t think so…) We were slightly worried that she wouldn’t be able to come home because of her “Hematocrit Level“. 38% is about average for a woman. Fortunately, thanks to Colleen, her level was about at 42% when she went in to surgery. After surgery it was about 28%… Then 25%… Then 22%…   So, this was the piece that made me nervous during recovery!   Her last test went back up to 25! Yippie!  The doctor told us that this can fluctuate quite a bit due to various factors – drugs, hydration, etc… so a particular number is not critical. Since this can mean internal bleeding, however, it is critical that this number stabilize. Seeing it stabilize was crucial.  I suspect she will have another test before week’s out, but it looks good!

Thanks

I don’t really know what else to say besides “thank you”.  Thanks to everybody who has had a kind word for Colleen, sent a flower, or just had a moment of contemplation about how really valuable the people around you are.

P.S. I probably won’t post as much as I will be quite short on time come tomorrow.  I am hopeful, however, that Colleen will be back to her bloggin self in no time!


Tags:

Happy Day

Happy Day

I just wanted to post some status on Colleen.   She is doing very well after having switched to oral medication. Therefore, she is no longer connected to an IV or feeling nauseous  from the constant stream of Dilaudid.

Her “stryker box” has also been removed. A baking soda sized device, this was delivering medication directly to the incision site. Apparently it is fairly ‘new fangled’, and most nurses don’t know how to use it. (We think it stopped delivering anything about a day ago!).  Regardless, “her annoying purse” has been removed. She was forced to have this hanging around her neck.

The vital sign monitor is no longer on her finger either.  Bottom line is that there is just one tiny tube connected to her in case she needs an IV again, but we suspect that will be gone shortly.

She’s been able to walk around a little and hopes to walk out of the hospital sometime this afternoon (with a little help, of course).

It has certainly been an interesting week and, at times, a little scary. It is good to see Colleen feel more like herself (if not still in a bit of pain). All and all she is doing very well, considering what she has been through.

(Editing by Colleen)

Tags:

« Older entries § Newer entries »