Yep, so it's over. I'm done. Finito. Ok, in a matter of speaking, I suppose. I'm finished with my final surgery!
On September 1st, I went in for my follow up appt. with Dr. Bollenger. He told me he wanted to wait a month before scheduling a final surgery to take down my ileostomy and everything and in the meantime, have me get a barium enema (it's as unpleasant as it sounds).
On September 11th, I had my BE and I wouldn't wish it upon my very worst enemy. I did get to see that what's left of my colon and large intestines are happy and intact.
On October 6th, I went in for my appt. with Dr. Bollanger (pronounced Boo-lan-jay) and we talked about my final surgery. Because my blood tests came back saying I was a little dehydrated, low on electrolytes, and severely low on potassium (a hazard of having the ileostomy in the first place - pretty common), he wanted the surgery done quickly. He wasn't kidding - he had scheduled it for October 8th but wanted me in on October 7th to get rehydrated/potassium'd
On October 7th, I checked into the hospital. They put me in the Markey Cancer Center (which scared me at first before they assauged my fears and said it was just because the patient rooms over there are more private and less germ-infested because cancer patients have lower immune systems, therefore need more filters, etc). It was just a means to stave off infection after the surgery. I chilled out, slept, read, played on the internet, chatted with Sam, chilled with my folks, etc. I also heard about my surgery about 50 times and all the bad stuff that can happen to you during surgery and after (insurance/liability stuff that still scares the bejeesus outta me!). I ate and drank a full liquid diet until midnight and smoked my last cigarette at midnight as well. Bye, bye Marlboro Lights!
On October 8th, I had to wash my tummy in this weird red pre-op soap that's anti-microbacterial and super strong. It didn't hurt (actually quite soothing but I was told it's not for every-day use...dang it). I was given a gown and socks. Took off the jewelry and put my hair. Freaked out when they wheeled me out of the room where my mom, dad, and Sam were. Started crying because I was sure I was going to die. You know, normal stuff (haha). I was given an epidural to completely numb my tummy and then given some happy-liquid in my IV. I don't really know why they gave me that before surgery but meh, I'm not complaining; it calmed me down and made me stop crying. Suddenly everyone was awesome and I loved them all. Dad and Mom came in one last time to say goodbye and that they'd see me afterwards. I was wheeled to the operating room and put on this tempur-pedic feeling operating table. Man, they've come a long way from cold, hard steel and MAYBE a pillow if you were lucky. I felt relaxed, warm, and safe. Then they put the oxygen mask on me and put in the "knock your ass out" meds. They didn't warn me, which is cool because I hate it when they make you count back - it makes you feel apprehensive and edgy up until you pass out. And if you don't know I'm not awake because I'm not counting backwards, you're just stupid.
After the surgery, I woke up in a drunken stupor. I kept asking stupid questions over and over and it never escaped my attention (even while drugged), I asked the nurses "permission to speak freely". Man, forgot to tell my folks about that...haha....I blame the drugs. Anyway, the nurses kept looking at me like I was an idiot. I don't know why I kept doing it - it wasn't something I did ALL the time in the military...just something I heard and learned from my time in.
I then started having to say the yes ma'am/sir-ing and no ma'am/siring to all the questions they pelted my way. I guess they realized if I was conscious enough to ask stupid questions then I was conscious enough to answer easy ones. "Does it hurt when I do this?" "Can you feel this?" "Do you know where you are?" "What day is it?" etc. etc. etc.
I was wheeled back to my room and I knocked out, I think. I remember the post-op room pretty well but past that, the rest of the day was kind of a blur. I did get ahold of my computer and update my facebook, which still perplexes me. I rested a lot. I had in an IV, a catheter (ew), my epidural (yay), a pain button that I could press to dispense meds on command (yay), leg braces that worked like a blood pressure cuff to make sure I didn't get blood clots (meh), an NG nose tube that sucked the bile and crap out of my tummy into a container (ew), and two JP pounches below where my mucous fistula (wiki it) and ileostomy were on the left and right sides respectively to drain from those wounds (blood, pus, mucous, all that fun and gross stuff). The nurse would come in, tell me I couldn't eat or drink or have anything taken out, clean out my tubes and stuff, and leave every so often. I slept, talked to Sam, slept, talked to Mom and Dad, slept, watched TV, slept.
Over the course of the next 7 days, I got the cath out (because I had a UTI and I'm a stubborn bastard and kept asking them to do it cause it hurt), the NG out (as told why below), then the IV (because I was hydrated and had enough potassium), then the epidural (cause I could swallow pills), the leg cuffs (because I was walking around and taking blood thinner shots), then the JP tubes/containers (because the drainage had lessened enough to only require a bandage over the sites). I was forced to walk around as much as possible so I took advantage of that "happy" button a lot.
My diet also changed from no food for 2 days, to water and ice chips, to clear liquids (spirte, water, jello, italian ices, popsicles, and chicken broth), to full liquids (anything off clear liquids plus cream-based soups, pudding, ice cream, cokes, tea, coffee, etc.), to full-fledged food with no restrictions.
On the third day I had my first ever bowel movement (yeah I'm sure EVERYONE wants to know that). It was weird for me since I hadn't had to rely on that part of my body for about 8 months but I got through the initial shock. It was more just interesting and exciting than scary or weird. It meant my body was working together again and processing things. The reason they even let me off the NG nose tube and put me on clear liquids was because of the BM. Man, getting that NG tube pulled was unnerving as hell. When I was in the ICU I pulled out my own when I was heavily drugged and trying to escape (thought the nurses were trying to kill me/keep me from my family so they could do the deed - drugs are very powerful things).
The JP tubes on my tummy were equally innerving.
I think what takes the cake on weirdness was seeing my belly for the first time. I'd post pics but it's not something everyone in the world really needs to see. Let's see if I can paint a picture here:
So I have one HUGE long line of staples down my tummy. Over 20 staples, I think. I'll get back to you on that. The staples go from the bottom of my breasts (another reason for no pics) to the top of my undies. The line is a little less than a foot. Eyeballing it (when it's not bandaged like it is now, I'd say about 9-10 inches).
On my left side about 3 inches down from my breasts is a vertical scar jutting out from the original middle one (just an incision site) and then there's one horizontal line about 6 inches down from my breasts where my mucous fistula was. Right below that last line of staples is a small hole where the JP tube was for drainage.
On my right side right across from where the mucous fistula scar is, there's a scar in equal length that's horizontal where my ileostomy was housed. Below that is the other hole where the other JP tube was.
When they undressed it for the first time, they found that the top left scar and the middle scar both had some skin infection. Nothing big because it wasn't internal and easily repaired. So the second time it was uncovered, they took out a few staples from each (3 from the big one and 2 from the little one on the side). They packed the open wound full of guaze and then taped over it and everything else like normal and then put a the belly band back on. The belly band is one long elastic band that goes around my abdomen that basically keeps me stable and able to walk without too much discomfort or pain. It also prevents anything from coming off or out that shouldn't, which is nice.
The first time the resident packed the wounds full of gauze (second day), she did it in the most sadistic way possible. I'm not a huge fan of residents generally and this chick wasn't a bad person but this kinda pissed me off. She took SCISSORS (no joke...blunt tipped scissors but metal SCISSORS none-the-less) after she took out the staples and then proceeded to stab in as much regular sized guaze as she could. Oh my GOSH I was pressing that button like it was going out of style.
The second time it was redressed, the nurse (named Leah, which I found to be cool because it made me feel like my sis was there), used ribbon gauze (which is smaller and lighter and can get deeper into the wound's edges and corners and packed it in with a long Q-tip. It didn't hurt one bit.
The third time it was packed, it was done by one of the very few residents I can count on one hand that I actually liked through this WHOLE ordeal. His name is Kevin and he used to be a therapist for trauma victims in the hospital and their families. GREAT guy. Decided to join up when he heard a resident pronounce the death of a family's loved one as "Hey, what can I say? he's dead." Kevin didn't think that was right and was like "Screw this, I can do this job better than THAT guy." and he's right. He's amazing. There's no end to what this guy knows and he's so funny and intelligent. He explained everything to me and made me feel completely at ease. He even took time out of his day to teach a nursing student who was in my room at the time chatting with me (nice girl named Lauren who I talked to at length about my accident - she was interested because she has a thirst for knowledge - I just like talking).
He went through everything with us...it was like being in a class where you really really like your teacher and he makes the material accessible. I asked him why the other method (scissor stabby-mc-pain-time) was still employed and he said quite frankly, "Because some people are sadists and assholes, Caitlin." Then I remembered he was in the room when she did that procedure - hm, guess he didn't like her too much, either. At least he's honest about it. I like doctors that don't BS you.
I don't know what I did to incur the wrath of that first intern but I told Dr. Bollanger about it - not to get her in trouble but moreover to correct her methods before she really hurts someone. I could give a crap whether she likes me or not. I can obviously take the pain (I've had worse...) - I just shouldn't have had to. I'm not normally a rat but that was kinda ridiculous what she pulled. You wanna be petty, call me a name or something. I made sure to tell Dr. B about how awesome Kevin was, how he taught Lauren and I, and how that dude should get a raise or a gold star or something.
So things go smoothy for the next few days. In the course of that time I got to see my sister and Dre (on Saturday and Sunday briefly - I was still pretty loopy but it was nice to see them for a little bit - missed them both terribly), Taylor and Baxter (yay!), Sam (which is a given - he's been here through everything else - and it's much appreciated), my parents (duh), Katie, Melanie, and Eileen. Bernie Conrad stopped by for a bit but I was out for the count. For the most part I asked people not to visit for the first couple of days because it was hard to know how I was going to feel on the day to day. Most of my visits came from family, really close friends, and people who weren't in town for too long, which was fine by me. I felt bad to kinda bar the guest list this time around but the situation was remarkably different because infection was such a key factor. I'm pretty sure everyone understood. I got some really nice balloons from Tim and Melanie, gorgeous flowers from Eileen, and a slew of well-wishes and such on my Facebook from awesome people. To those who didn't say anything, no worries! I didn't expect anything or anything and this whole surgery came in without warning.
I have an appt. on the 20th to take out the staples, I think. Or leave 'em in...at this point it's "meh, whatever, let's do it" with me. I've learned a lot of patience - makes when the actual date happens that much sweeter. I plan on going back to college, moving into my new apartment in Tony and Miranda's basement, getting disability until I can get a part-time job as a waitress or a bar back while I'm in college, take care of Sadie (Tony and Miranda's little one), spend more time with family/friends, pick up some hobbies like cooking classes, Krav Maga (an Israeli martial arts that my friend Jon does and swears is the best thing ever), swing dancing at the Fred Astaire school, and anything else I can learn/do).
So as this whole thing comes to a close, I've learned a lot. I've grown a lot. I've seen people around me change and grow with me. I've cried, laughed, cursed God, forgiven God, gotten closer to God, and gotten calmer about His plan for me (whatever that may be...we shall see!). I don't know EXACTLY what I want to do with my life yet. Nursing might not be totally out of the cards but I'd like to explore a few more things first (criminal justice or teaching). We'll see. I don't have to decide today, thankfully.
Right now I'm just relaxing and letting life take me where it takes me. I'm very proud of myself for getting this far and I'm almost done but none of it would have been possible without my friends, family, God, the Navy, and the staff/doctors/surgeons/nurses/etc. that work tirelessly everyday at UK Hospital.
Much love, God bless, and may every happiness be bestowed upon you and yours in all your endeavors.
Goodnight!
