I think it’s tuesday. That means, for this admission, I’ve been here one day shy of two weeks. For this entire shebang, if you ignore the two days I was home in between admissions, I’ve been here since April 15. Basically, I’ve been here for the spring. Which sucks because spring here has been gorgeous. Oh well. At least when I go home, I’ll do so knowing that I’m pretty much fixed for good. In the meantime though, I’ve so lost track of time and date. It’s frustrating because Shannon talks about when things have happened and I realize that events that I’d thought took place at night were really in the middle of the day or on Sunday when I thought they were on Friday. Good drugs and the natural ability of the brain to fuzz out the truly horrific things like endoscopies and colonoscopies without sedation or the night that will forever be known as THE NIGHT OF THE SEVEN ENEMAS (sorry, am I oversharing?).
So, the latest details. Gas Watch 2010 is over. Yes, for the first time in 38 years, we are once again proud to announce that Allison is pooping and passing gas all by herself. Sigh. The indignities of abdominal surgery. But, that means an end to the dreaded three meals a day of what they keep telling me is Jello. Bullshit. Just like that other stuff on the tray isn’t juice, it’s jooce, this isn’t Jello, it’s boiled horses hooves and orange food coloring and enough sugar to spike my blood sugar like mad.
Ah, but now that all of the intestines are peristalsing (is that a real word?) away, I should receive for lunch, skim milk, some sort of cream based soup, and a cup of ice cream that throws me so far back into memories of elementary school that I’m disappointed it doesn’t come with a little wooden paddle with which to eat it. Assuming the sudden burst of dairy doesn’t send me into shock, I believe real solid food that requires a knife and fork will appear at dinner. Yeah, it’s hospital food, but in the two years since I last dined at this establishment, their culinary skills have drastically improved. The stuff on the plate is usually recognizable, well seasoned, and sometimes even quite tasty, although I have a strange love of cafeteria-type food anyway.
Basically, I have a small set of milestones I have to meet before cutting me loose is an option. 1. I have to tolerate food and beverage. 2. I have to move my bowels. 3. I have to be walking around. 4. I have to be off the PCA, which is the patient-administered pain meds. Y’know where they give you the button that lets you dose yourself up to a certain point, but keeps you from going over the allowed amount in a given period of time? The pain has to be manageable with oral pain meds.
Here’s where I am on that. 1. Working on it. No problems so far. 2. Check. 3. Check. I don’t like it, but I can walk up and down the hall. Being upright makes me VERY aware of the incision and the weight of Olivia Moonpie. I am getting myself in and out of bed to move around the room and to the restroom on my own. 4. The last time I hit the button last night, the dilaudid hit me so hard and gave me such freaky, frightening dreams I decided I’d rather just hurt and the pain is, for the most part, at a level I can deal with. So, the nurse is calling the surgeon to get orders for vicodin or something similar which I’ll use some, but not much.
The only other real question is when the incision will be healed enough to remove the drain that’s in there. I think that has to come out before I go home. The hernia repair is temporary and had to be designed to accomodate the growing belly. I’ve got some funky retention bands that are helping to support the muscles while allowing them to stretch that have to stay in place for two more weeks. Then, there’s the possibility that before August, we might need to do another minor fix, THEN after the baby gets here, there will be a permanent repair with plastic mesh. Phew.
I’m guessing I’ll see home by Friday at the earliest. Hope so, anyway.