:Shennanigans:

Hehe...and all I wanted was the license to practice law!?!?
Hey, Rob: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. :)

Friends and family: thanks for all the emails, cards, etc. Totally appreciated.

So, I am on the road to recovery. It was a rough start, but it seems to be going somewhat smoother now. First, during the pre-op, Kaiser fu**ed up my blood transport from one facility to another. Rob (the wonderful friend that he is) and Don (my bro) both gave blood. However, Kaiser listed Rob as my brother and Don as my spouse. EW! Furthermore, it was listed that my blood was to be sent to the OB/GYN department. Whu??? 'Scuse me??? I do NOT think so!!! Once it all got squared away, the pre-op went well. The next day mom took me in for the surgery. Since I am latex-intolerant, I have to be the first scheduled surgery in the OR. No problem.

All set to go - arrive at 6am and head into OR at 8am. Cool. All went well. Yep, used the blood - though not all of it. Came out - don't remember much until I feel this horrific pain in my chest - worse than before the surgery - as I am being wheeled down a hallway, come to find out I am on my way to my hospital room. My mom said she could hear my screams of pain in the waiting room. Finally, they let her in to my room. Bad, bad move on their part. (Side notes: (1) my mom used to work for a hospital, when she wants something done, she knows how to get it done and (2) my mom is mild-mannered until you piss her off) She said she came into my room, my pillow was soaked from my tears, my face bright red, my forehead scalding hot, and the nurse was not doing a da** thing about it. Amazing. Finally, she said she had enough of watching my body convulse as the muscles were spasming and, get this - after THREE, yes, THREE hours, finally got the nurse to give me morphine. Nighty-night. Well, come to find out that the nurse didn't want to call the doctor out from his second, non-critical, surgery to get permission to give me morphine and decided she would wait until the procedure was done. Oh, I have not seen my mom that livid in many years!!! Can y'all say whoop-a**? Yeppers. Mom + pissed off + stupid nurse = WHOOP-A** Let me tell you, when the morphine wore off and the second round of spasms began, it didn't take too long for the morphine to reach my I/V. I can remember the pain. Excrutiating is the only word for it. Death sounded like a very good option at the time.

The next day, I still felt awful, but the spasms were less frequent and not as terrorizing. It helped to know that I was going to get the he** out of the hospital and go home. Food sucked. Imagine the pile of stinking poo that used to rule Rob's website, no, not steaming, but, rather, quite cold; that about sums it up. My mom actually tried to eat some of it. She didn't even keep the one bite in her mouth.

Let's see...since I have been home, I am been mostly, not immobile, but not moving alot. I had to have four separate incisions (uh, really, was it necessary to cut me FOUR FU**ING TIMES in FOUR SEPARATE PLACES?!?) made for the surgery - all are in the midriff area. So much for the bikini I now have the body for... bastards. Between mom, Rob, Alicia and Scott, I've had to have someone with me pretty much 24/7 to make sure I don't begin spontaneously bleeding from a rupture of the internal sutures. Hey, it happened before, so not taking any chances this time. It's been too much down time for me though. I keep hearing the words, "Don't do anything" spinning in my head. And, yes, I know I must heed them, but it sucks all the same.

Now... I am feeling much better, still a bit painful, but I am getting around much easier now. I am also able to get a little more comfortable in bed at night to get some sleep. Ready for the ok to get going on with my life!!! *sigh* The doc told me not to expect it too soon; he said he probably won't release me for mild activity until September 1 and not for Boot Camp and zealous activity until almost the end of September. Sucks. Boy does it suck. I cannot stand, in fact I HATE, being cooped up and, worse yet, being told I cannot live my life with the activities I want, when I want, and how I want. *sticks tongue out to world*

Not much other news. Lots of books I can finally focus on and read. It's one thing to be laid up, but it's He** for me not to be able to read! I am no longer doped on vicodin 24/7, so it's all green from here for the reading. Even with the reading, I know, I just know, I am going to go bezonkers before my "doc required down time" is up. Someone, anyone... peel me from the ceiling, please?

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2004-08-23 4:34 PM Feeling chopped and wokked Previous Entry :: Next Entry Mood: recuperating Read/Post Comments (3)	Hehe...and all I wanted was the license to practice law!?!? Hey, Rob: Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. :) Friends and family: thanks for all the emails, cards, etc. Totally appreciated. So, I am on the road to recovery. It was a rough start, but it seems to be going somewhat smoother now. First, during the pre-op, Kaiser fued up my blood transport from one facility to another. Rob (the wonderful friend that he is) and Don (my bro) both gave blood. However, Kaiser listed Rob as my brother and Don as my spouse. EW! Furthermore, it was listed that my blood was to be sent to the OB/GYN department. Whu??? 'Scuse me??? I do NOT think so!!! Once it all got squared away, the pre-op went well. The next day mom took me in for the surgery. Since I am latex-intolerant, I have to be the first scheduled surgery in the OR. No problem. All set to go - arrive at 6am and head into OR at 8am. Cool. All went well. Yep, used the blood - though not all of it. Came out - don't remember much until I feel this horrific pain in my chest - worse than before the surgery - as I am being wheeled down a hallway, come to find out I am on my way to my hospital room. My mom said she could hear my screams of pain in the waiting room. Finally, they let her in to my room. Bad, bad move on their part. (Side notes: (1) my mom used to work for a hospital, when she wants something done, she knows how to get it done and (2) my mom is mild-mannered until you piss her off) She said she came into my room, my pillow was soaked from my tears, my face bright red, my forehead scalding hot, and the nurse was not doing a da thing about it. Amazing. Finally, she said she had enough of watching my body convulse as the muscles were spasming and, get this - after THREE, yes, THREE hours, finally got the nurse to give me morphine. Nighty-night. Well, come to find out that the nurse didn't want to call the doctor out from his second, non-critical, surgery to get permission to give me morphine and decided she would wait until the procedure was done. Oh, I have not seen my mom that livid in many years!!! Can y'all say whoop-a? Yeppers. Mom + pissed off + stupid nurse = WHOOP-A Let me tell you, when the morphine wore off and the second round of spasms began, it didn't take too long for the morphine to reach my I/V. I can remember the pain. Excrutiating is the only word for it. Death sounded like a very good option at the time. The next day, I still felt awful, but the spasms were less frequent and not as terrorizing. It helped to know that I was going to get the he out of the hospital and go home. Food sucked. Imagine the pile of stinking poo that used to rule Rob's website, no, not steaming, but, rather, quite cold; that about sums it up. My mom actually tried to eat some of it. She didn't even keep the one bite in her mouth. Let's see...since I have been home, I am been mostly, not immobile, but not moving alot. I had to have four separate incisions (uh, really, was it necessary to cut me FOUR FUING TIMES in FOUR SEPARATE PLACES?!?) made for the surgery - all are in the midriff area. So much for the bikini I now have the body for... bastards. Between mom, Rob, Alicia and Scott, I've had to have someone with me pretty much 24/7 to make sure I don't begin spontaneously bleeding from a rupture of the internal sutures. Hey, it happened before, so not taking any chances this time. It's been too much down time for me though. I keep hearing the words, "Don't do anything" spinning in my head. And, yes, I know I must heed them, but it sucks all the same. Now... I am feeling much better, still a bit painful, but I am getting around much easier now. I am also able to get a little more comfortable in bed at night to get some sleep. Ready for the ok to get going on with my life!!! sigh The doc told me not to expect it too soon; he said he probably won't release me for mild activity until September 1 and not for Boot Camp and zealous activity until almost the end of September. Sucks. Boy does it suck. I cannot stand, in fact I HATE, being cooped up and, worse yet, being told I cannot live my life with the activities I want, when I want, and how I want. sticks tongue out to world Not much other news. Lots of books I can finally focus on and read. It's one thing to be laid up, but it's He** for me not to be able to read! I am no longer doped on vicodin 24/7, so it's all green from here for the reading. Even with the reading, I know, I just know, I am going to go bezonkers before my "doc required down time" is up. Someone, anyone... peel me from the ceiling, please? Read/Post Comments (3) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top
:: JOURNAL HOME :: SUBSCRIBE TO THIS JOURNAL :: Brainsalad :: Friendly Fiction - Adventures in writing. :: Girl Child :: JamTart :: Kenny :: LisaMarie :: Netter...and her Empire :: Reenie :: RT :: Scout :: SmartiPlants :: WordWebbing ::