That’s life…

Lesson I learned the hard way when I was 7, everything can change in a second. Last Tuesday I was at a celebration of Downtown Dave Brown, and a week later I’m anxiously awaiting my disertion, I mean discharge, orders. I was just getting ready to head to the store on Wednesday, after saying farewell to Mattie, and my increasing stomach ache sent me to my knees. I quickly realized this went beyond an Urgent Care pain, and called in reinforcements to help me to the hospital.

The pain increased each moment until I was barely getting in a shallow, ragged, painful breath to stay alive. I was immediately given 2 pain shots when the first hardly made a dent, and sent for a CT Scan to look at the problem. Raising your arms above your head when you have severe abdominal pain is not for the weak! With a trickle of tears, (It was all I could do to stop them! Blowing my nose would’ve been a fresh hell i had no interest in trying.) the scan was completed. A Dr. U came in to explain about a blockage in my intestines. He was sure if it was the stomach tube or hysterectomy scar, but my intestine made a wrap around it and shut me down.

The first course of treatment was AWFUL! Drink this foul fluid and basically try to “blow” it out. Every few hours a machine came into the room to xray me. (How AWESOME was that new machine?) My guts were ripped apart and more hellacious pain ensued. 24 hours later, they gave up and went to more drastic measures, surgery. FIRST, however, you have to get the tube up your nose and down into your stomach. This is an extremely uncomfortable procedure for ANYONE, but having a still super sensitive throat from the radiation earlier this year, it was a feat I thought insurmountable after the fourth try, gallons of vomit and blood. However, after the 4th tube, the 3rd nurse who was called from a special department, more agony, a tube was FINALLY placed.

Now, in the midst of the first 48 hours, Dr. U passed my case to Dr. Petty. We did NOT make fast friends. While I was agonizing in pain I asked the nurse for more pain meds, and was told the Doc said no. Something about addiction, are you fucking kidding me? At the rate of my vomit and blood pressure there was little chance for THAT! Plus, I explained the previous mouth cancer and the reason my pain was so substantial, so when we came face to face, I was already FUMING! I told him I was ready to walk out, and he said no, we’ll be I surgery in 2 hours. You’re headed there now. I agreed to stay.

The surgery was a complete success, and he didn’t have to do 70% of the horrific things he described like cutting out my bowels. He said I should get better in a few days and could go home. While our relationship never developed into a “nice one,” mutual respect won out in the end and civility reigned. CLEARLY, he wasn’t used to a surgical patient ready to walk unless we came to a mutual agreement on the care I required. (Excuse the grammar)

After 4 agonizing days of walking miles around the hospital, magnesium fluid, warm and cold packs, and every indication I would be in the hospital at Christmas, my body woke up at 12:20 am Christmas Eve morning. I knew that the Doctor would give me leniency and allow me to go home. I was right! If I could eat breakfast and something solid for lunch, keep both down, I could be home tonight! Breakfast is down, bags are packed and ready, lunch should be here in a half an hour, and a journey that began 144 hours ago SHOULD be over.

Just have to come back to take out the staples.