In Like a Lion

Isn't that the phrase, in like a lion and out like a lamb? 

Well, March has slipped past my fingers due to a health emergency. My gallbladder was full of stones, and apparently I had stones in my bile duct as well. I spend a week inpatient at the hospital, probably the 2nd to worst hospital in the city, according to Jaime. I wish I had gone to the one I had my hysterectomy at, but I was looking at ER wait times and went with the estimated shortest time. A mistake I will never make again (fingers crossed I am not in this situation again tho). 

My pain started around noon on Sunday, and as it continued until around 8pm, I decided to go to the emergency room. I wasn't going to, I was just going to see if sleeping it off would do anything, but thought that since the pain hadn't changed for almost 8 hours, what if I died in my sleep? Who would care for my cats, they would be all alone. So, I Uber'd to the hospital that night since I thought I might be there overnight and didn't want to deal with parking. A $13 Uber is better than overnight parking fees. I packed my tote with a water bottle, eye mask, earplugs, my Kindle, and whatever was already in there, lotion, lip balm, the basics.. I did not expect to be admitted. I had an ultrasound, CT scan, and MRI all in one night, all that radiation, I'm a mutant now! By the time I got back from the MRI, they had a room on the Med-Surg floor me and up I went. 

I spent two days doing fuck all nothing while waiting for GI and surgery consults, had an ERCP done Wednesday, gallbladder removed Thursday, and discharged mid day Friday. I was NPO all week, and ended up losing about 12 pounds. When I weighed in on Saturday morning it went up to 15# total loss. I have since gained back about 4 pounds, but it's been an adjustment period for sure. Eating is a "will I or won't I have diarrhea after this" game. I am hesitant to eat before running errands or taking a snack with me because of this game. I know it's an adjustment, it's only been two weeks, but this sucks. 

Also, the surgeon stapled my incisions, that were done laparoscopically. I was so upset, I asked before the procedure if he used glue and he said he used stripes, and I said "oh, that's fine". When the nurse removed the bandages to check the incisions after surgery I saw the staples and was horrified and started crying. I know that's maybe a stupid thing to cry about, but I knew the staple legs would scar, my hysterectomy scar above my belly button is also almost 3 inches long now, instead of the barely 1 inch it was before. So I have an even bigger scar there, and he like folded the skin and stapled, so it's healed a bit weird. 

I've never really cared about scars to be honest, but I think with this procedure being an necessary emergency, the stress of being in the hospital, and all that, I am having a harder time dealing. I also wasn't kept up to date on what the fuck was going on with me. The hospitalist would just tell me to "be patient" and didn't tell me that my liver results were abnormal and that's why I was being kept inpatient and not referred to have the surgery outpatient. I had 3 IV's infiltrate, which was really painful. I had bruises from every stick when they took blood (AT 3AM MIND YOU, WTF). The blood pressure cuff gave me petechiae all around my upper arm. The ERCP procedure caused extreme pain in my neck and upper back like I've never experienced and I didn't even bother asking for ibuprofen due to my surgery being the next day. I also had petechiae on one side of my face and all along my right arm, hands, and fingers. 

I had to share a room the whole time I was there, one woman who kept having breakdowns and telling her husband (who never left, even when he wasn't supposed to be there), that it was her time and she wanted to die. Then her husband would argue with the nurses when he tried to help her out of bed. She was a fall risk and on bed alarms, and guess what would go off every couple of hours...? Yep. Eventually they were transferred, the second woman was not as dramatic and mostly slept. However, a man down the hall screamed constantly, all day and night. How his vocal cords managed it, I had no idea. By that point I was using my earplugs or earbuds 24/7.

When I discharged, my pain medication for post surgery was out of stock at the pharmacy, the pharmacy did not notify the prescribing doctor, and due to it being an opioid, it could not be transferred. I didn't get my pain meds until almost 6pm the following day. I was, and still am, quite pissed about that. 

I had actually taken off Thursday and Friday of the week I was inpatient because Amanda and her family were coming up from Corpus to stay at a resort and we were going to have dinner one night, and then I'd go to the zoo with them on Thursday, but major fail. However, she came with the baby to visit and my friend Jaime came to visit as well. Jaime offered to check on my house and cats, and said that her ex-husband James offered to do anything I needed done, like the trash taken out or whatever. I am very grateful to have met and cultivated the friendship I have with Jaime. I declined the offer because I asked Miles to check on the cats, which he did. He also brought me some clothes and a few other things I needed. Again, feeling a lot of gratitude, although I did pay Miles, even if I didn't need to. I have watched his cats and house enough to collect favors. 

My poor cats. I know that Porkchop got roughed up because there were fluffs of fur all over the carpet upstairs when I got home. When I was petting him, I felt a few scabs on his body. I wasn't around to give Miso his medication, and even when I was back and able to administer, it's prozac, so it takes about 4 weeks to really kick in. Miso is still being a bit aggressive, but at least I can break up the fighting. 

I feel unhealthy. Which is ironic that when this happened, I was probably in the best shape I've been in in my adult life. I'm very active and eat healthy, but the weight loss you experience when you lose a large amount of weight takes a toll on your body. I filed for short term disability and FMLA at work so my job was protected, which still caused me some brief moments of anxiety regardless. I returned to work on 3/28 and my team was happy to have me back and were relieved. 

I am surprised that I haven't felt too down about things until recently. Don't get me wrong, it's been an overall shitty experience, but I haven't let it get me down. I wasn't moping at the hospital, I just accepted that I had to be there, and entertained myself. I read, fucked off on TikTok, walked around the hospital floor, or slept. When I got home, I did small tasks around my place I've been putting off (ones I could do without a lot of lifting or bending). I watched TV, I finished a cross stitch, started a new book, finished an audiobook, made new recipes. Just enjoyed the time off work. 

I wouldn't say I feel sorry for myself, but whenever I am sick or hurt, I always wish I had a partner to take care of me or someone to advocate on my behalf. But, I didn't experience that this time. Even when I was home and having to clutch my stomach while getting out of bed or bending over, I didn't think about it. I've faced multiple surgeries now, all by myself. No one cares for me better than I care for myself, and I am not optimistic about my prospects for this going forward, and I don't know if I care anymore honestly.