Alrighty. Time to type up my surgery and recovery experience.
When I got my pacemaker two years ago, I spent a year (almost exactly) drawing a comic called Change of Pace, which helped me kinda process what happened to me. You can read the comic here if you’re interested. It’s largely all true, aside from the love story part. Tsk.
I don’t think I’m going to be drawing out this experience. It was completely different. I’ve been expecting a surgery of this nature since I was nineteen, when I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease. So, in a way, this stint in the hospital was harder, more personal. The pacemaker was an emergency. The colon resection was some time coming. Not as much trauma, really. Not as much confusion about what was happening and why. But I still feel like telling the story, purging it from my mind.
I was scheduled for surgery on Monday, the 18th of November. I took off work that Friday so I could have my pre-op bloodwork done and I also took off Sunday so I could start the colon prep. If you don’t know what a colon prep is, God bless you. You basically drink a crap ton (lol) of laxative and spend all night pooping until you poop clear. The easiest version is the Miralax version. If you have to have a colonoscopy, ask for the Miralax. I promise, you don’t want the Go-Lightly.
The day before prep, my friend took me climbing in Memphis to keep my mind off of things. We also went to IKEA. It was helpfully distracting. I had Swedish meatballs.
I was meant to “technically” start the prep at midnight Saturday by not eating anything until surgery on Monday. Beginning to drink the Miralax sometime around noon on Sunday. I didn’t get that far.
I got righteously sick Saturday night. My back was killing me and I was very nauseous and dizzy. I knew what was going on even before I started throwing up. I had a bowel obstruction. The second one in my life. I’d had one once before in March and jeeze. It hurt like a son of a bitch. I’m not sure if every bowel obstruction feels the same way, but mine certainly did. If you find yourself having these symptoms, please go to the ER. Bowel obstructions are no joke. You can go septic, which is incredibly dangerous.
Nausea, feeling like you’re going to pass out, vomiting bile, severely upset stomach, cold sweats, and my back was aching something awful. I assume it was because my stomach was cramping so badly, my back muscles were spasming.
I live with my mother. Have done since I’ve been getting sick so regularly. I woke her up and she took me to the hospital.
The first time I had a bowel obstruction, I thought something was wrong with my heart. (The cold sweats, the nausea.) They rushed me to the back immediately. This time, I knew it was an obstruction, not my heart, and I said as much. They don’t tend to be in as much of a hurry when you don’t mention your heart. Didn’t realize that. I’m also not entirely sure they were convinced I did have a bowel obstruction. I’m sure plenty of people walk into an ER saying random stuff for random reasons, but yeah. I was very slowly processed. I remember them taking my blood pressure and because it wasn’t high at all, I imagine they thought I was full of shit. Figuratively, not literally. Because I was, literally. Whatever.
My blood pressure normally runs very low. I can also take a lot of pain, because I’m on a first name basis with pain. They didn’t take my pain seriously because my blood pressure wasn’t high, I guess. Not my fault I’m a badass.
I sat in the waiting room until I started vomiting bile again. I also pooped all over myself in the processes. Which I didn’t think you could do if you were obstructed, but you live and you learn!
That’s when they got in a hurry. I was making a huge mess.
They got me a paper gown and I cleaned myself up as best as I could before the CAT scan, which proved I was, in fact, obstructed.
So there I was, in the ER, very very early on the Sunday morning before my surgery Monday. I was admitted and my doctor contacted. Since the surgery was so close at hand, they agreed it was best to wait until the scheduled time to do the surgery. I’d stopped vomiting so there was no need for an NG tube this time. Those things suck.
Got admitted. Got a room. Tried to sleep. My surgeon came in and we talked. Got everything situated. At one point my mother told me there was a girl down the hall who’d just had a colon resection if I wanted to talk to her. She was sitting int he hallway with her sisters, eating her dinner. Poor thing had been in the hospital for almost a month.
I spoke with her a bit. I’m not entirely sure what happened. Whether it was nerves or if I was hurting, but I almost passed out in the hallway. I hadn’t experienced anything of that nature since I had my pacemaker put in. The whole point of the pacemaker was to prevent me from passing out altogether. But I didn’t pass out so...I suppose that means it’s working?
I also pooped on myself that night while I slept. First time that’d ever happened. It was then I knew that I’d literally gone as long as I could before I needed surgery. I couldn’t wait any more. I’d been so stressed out over in the idea that I maybe didn’t need the surgery. That I was being pitiful and my case wasn’t that bad. I could tough it out if I really wanted. I realized what a dumbass I was for thinking those thoughts, but hindsight is 20/20.
Monday dawned and surgery rolled around. Took forever. I was basically watching the clock tick the minutes by until transport fetched me. I was wheeled down to pre-op where they gave me a hair net. I don’t remember getting a hair net for the pacemaker surgery.
I signed some paperwork and a lady told me she was going to get me ready. She said she was going to give me a nerve block in my stomach. I was like, “Cool, right on.” Until I saw the needle.
Holy fuck. That needle.
“You’re going to give me that when I’m asleep, right?”
“I’m going to give you some ‘I don’t care’ juice.”
“Oh, thank God. I probably won’t remember this then.”
“Probably not.”
In went the ‘I don’t care’ juice. I got really dizzy.
They swabbed my belly with iodine.
They prepped the needle.
I was still very much awake.
I said, “Guys...” Because at this point there were several people standing over me. Like five. “...I’m still cognizant.”
Yeah, I used the word cognizant. That’s how fucking cognizant I was.
Not sure if they heard me. Or if they replied. I was really dizzy.
In went the needle.
And ow. OW.
In went the needle again. One stick on each side of my belly.
The ‘I don’t care’ juice must have been working in some way because while I remember the pain, I don’t remember the panic. I certainly would have panicked if I didn’t have that juice pumping through me. So that was a thing.
I fell asleep soon thereafter. Couldn’t have been like...a minute earlier? Really?
I remember waking up in recovery with the pacemaker. I remember the pressure, the nurse asking me questions. I remember being wheeled back to my room. I don’t remember jack shit about recovery after the colon resection. I don’t remember being wheeled back to my room. I apparently asked for my mom, but I don’t remember doing that either.
I do remember, however, turning over on my side. Because ouch. But I did it anyway and kept doing it because I’m a determined asshole. Monday night was very hazy. I was high as fuck, probably.
Tuesday: Not a good day. I was in a lot of pain. They gave me hydros, but the hydros weren’t touching it. Felt like I was taking Tylenol. And I have a very very VERY low tolerance for pain meds. They wouldn’t give me any morphine because my blood pressure was too low. (Again, badass?? Maybe?? IDK man my blood pressure just runs really low.) Which makes sense, because that’s dangerous, but I was in agony. I begged for morphine. I pleaded with the nurse to give me morphine. She would not.
My mother got angry. I’m not one to complain. And my threshold for pain is admittedly pretty stout. I was hurting and no one was doing anything to help. My mother got ANGRY.
I think they must’ve finally given me some morphine, but I don’t remember. Morphine also didn’t help. Didn’t even make a dent in the pain I was feeling. They kept giving me hydros every couple of hours to no avail. I remember I asked for a heating pad for my back. Barely. The nurse did give me one, but said I could only have it for an hour? Very fuzzy.
The tech forgot to...do something with my catheter because my urine got everywhere. The nurse that found me like that called the floor manager. I hated to, but I did report that my pain wasn’t kept in check. I was hurting so badly I actually reported one of the nurses. The one that wouldn’t give me morphine. I felt horrible about it, but I was also nearly in tears I hurt so bad.
Hell, the pain was so intense at one point my mother called my family. Like, they thought something was wrong. Very very wrong. The doctor called for some kind of scan while I was in bed. They put a board behind my back. I was writhing, I remember. My family gathered in the hospital to see me in case I had to go back to surgery. In case I wasn’t going to do well.
It was scary.
The next set of nurses figured out the problem when the scan revealed nothing out of the ordinary. My back was spasming. Horribly. When I sat up and they felt of me, they were shocked to find my back riddled with knots. It felt like knuckles underneath my skin. The new nurses got me some hella icy hot with pain killer and rubbed me down.
It helped tremendously. My back stopped freaking out, which gave my abdominal muscles time to rest.
At last, I wasn’t hurting. At last, I slept.
Wednesday and Thursday were spent trying to keep my back under control. At one point I vomited all over my bed due to acid reflux. I paged the nurse to ask for some acid reflux medicine and puked all over the place while I was on the call with her lol.
I never once had any issue with my incision. My entire trouble, the whole time, was from my back. And nausea. And lemme tell ya. Vomiting with a six inch incision on your abdomen? OW.
Getting up and walking? Easy enough. Getting up and going to the bathroom? No problem. Spongebath? Piece of cake. But God my back.
I managed to poop for the doctors. Fantastic.
And finally, finally, I got to have food.
I went from about 5:00PM Saturday to 12:00PM Friday without having anything to eat or drink. I had an IV, and I could eat ice chips if I desperately needed to wet my mouth, but yeah. I hardly had any ice chips. Weird to imagine you can go that long without food and be alright.
I proved I could eat GI soft food on Saturday and they let me go home.
Got my staples removed the following Tuesday. Had some steri strips applied. Just waiting for them to fall off on their own.
And here I am. Just lounging, waiting to get my strength back. It’s much easier to draw after this surgery than the pacemaker one. Thank God. I’m slow moving and my stomach hurts a bit when my contents shift, but other than that I’m doing swimmingly. I can’t lift anything over ten pounds until the new year. Not sure when I’ll be able to drive, either. I’ll find out soon.
This surgery was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Mentally and physically. Mentally because I’ve been struggling with Crohn’s since I was a teenager. I’m 32 now. Half my life I’ve been at war with my own body, drowning in the pain it leashes on itself. It’s been a long road. I hope this spells the end of it. Or at least, the rest of the journey is all downhill.
I’ve lost a lot of weight. I’m trying not to think about it too much. I’ll gain it back. Just takes time.
