This time, the surgery wont hurt. I’m so positive! It was so easy last time, this will be nothing!
Next time, someone needs to remind me not to be so flippant about surgery.
Turns out, this time around, it wasn’t so easy.
This past Friday, I walked into the surgeon’s office to have a smaller, yet similar, surgery than I had done a few weeks prior. This time, the surgery was simply to fix up a few little issues that had occurred since the last one so it wasn’t supposed to be such a big deal. I was confident that I would be fine. I get put under the anesthetic without a single worry in my mind.
A little while later, I awoke from surgery for the first time and ask the surgeon to explain what had happened. I immediately forgot as I passed out again from the general anesthetic that was still in my system. I woke again, and asked him to explain it to me once more. Of course, I forgot again, as I pass out for the second time. As I finally awoke the third time, I asked him (sheepishly and apologetically, since I was aware that he had answered me twice already). He explained to me that he had to do a little bit more than anticipated because the issues were a little more serious than he had thought.
Alright, well, as long as everything’s cool than, whatever, he did what he had to do.
I stayed completely awake after he explained the situation to me for the last time because I suddenly started to notice how much pain I was in. I asked the surgeon’s assistant why, this time, I was in so much more pain than the last. She explains to me that they didn’t think they needed to put any pain medication in my IV since they didn’t think this particular one worked for me. Apparently, it did, because this time I was in an insane amount of pain. I was given an oral version to quell the pain as I left the office for home.
As like last time, I had to make a pit stop at the drug store to pick up some post-op medication and supplies. It is as soon as I get out of the cab and walk into the drug store that I really realize how much pain I’m in. I’m in so much pain that I can barely stand and I am literally shaking. I was wearing a big dress so I can only imagine that must have looked as if I was going into labor or something (aka- ridiculous). I go up to the pharmacy counter and ask them to fill my prescription ASAP. 10 excruciating minutes later, they call my name. Thankfully, one of my prescriptions was for Tylenol 3′s (one of the very few narcotics that actually work for me since my Crohn’s hospital days) so I pleaded with the pharmacist to grab me a drink so I could take a pill right then and there. (Not sketchy at all…)
I make my way home in another cab, which cost about a total of $3, so you can tell how close I was to my home. However, I was in so much pain that there was no way I could walk. I get to my apartment and crawl to my couch, shaking, and in tears.
This was much different than it was the last time, so I figured it best to call the surgeon. Eventually, I’m told to make my way back to the office because something may be wrong. Within 30 minutes of speaking to him, I made it back to the office, barely able to walk through the door. Sure enough, something had happened and he needed to give me a local anesthetic and get back in there.
I was sent home, once more, and plant myself on the couch in front of the TV. As the hours go by, it really doesn’t feel like the surgical area is getting any better- in fact, it feels worse.I emailed him again and he told me to meet him at the office early Saturday morning.
7:30am, bright and early, I meet him at his office and he opens me up once more, again, with the local anesthetic. He takes a look and informs me that there didn’t seem to be much of anything wrong with the incision areas, so he sent me home to go back to sleep. It was a wonderful sleep. I slept until about 3pm and then planted myself in front of the TV, once more, for the rest of the day. I wasn’t really able to move, so I didn’t. I also wasn’t able to get very much done while my head was fuzzy from t3′s, so, you guessed it- I didn’t.
Sunday morning, I woke up hoping to feel better and be able to be more productive. Of course, knowing me, I wasn’t. I woke up to a fever, chills, nausea, and more. Every Crohn’s patient knows that fevers mean infections, so of course I was extremely worried. I emailed the surgeon once more, and he called me right away. After speaking on the phone, he said it didn’t sound like anything was related to the surgery and that he would see me the next day anyways. I trusted his opinion and spent the rest of the day in and out of consciousness (in front of the TV of course) and still not getting anything done. If you know me, you know how much I hate not getting anything done.
Today, I made the trek back to the office for the 4th time in 4 days. I walked in and the first thing his assistant said to me was, “Well, you don’t look good.”
No, I definitely did not look good. After a weekend of pain and sickness and, essentially, immobility, I definitely did not look my usual self.
I get into the office and once more the surgeon decided to get back in there to take a look. He wanted to be certain that there really wasn’t anything going on. After a good 40 minutes on the table, he confirmed that there wasn’t anything to worry about and that from here on out, I should just be able to heal.
After a long, longgggg weekend, I finally feel better. Well.. better-ish. Not like I’m dying anymore. I feel like I felt after the surgery the last time. So, essentially, I feel like I’m ready to heal.
I guess I may have gotten a bit ahead of myself with the whole “surgery is nothing” mantra in my previous post. I was so happy with how easily the surgery had gone the last time, that I really did not see this coming. If I had, I may have stocked up on a few more groceries… I do want to say though, that I’m not knocking the positive attitude. It definitely helped me the day of because I wasn’t nervous! Now that I feel better, and I think all the issues that could happen, have happened, I know that the rest of the healing process wont be a big deal. Right? Right.
This would happen to me.
Readers: what are some of your ridiculous “this would happen to me” post-op stories?