It's Saturday, the day after my gall bladder removal, six days until Christmas. I am sore from the lacerations and the empty spot where my gall bladder used to be. But I feel like a normal, post-op patient. I'm faithfully taking my pain meds and rocking all of the air out. Fun fact: They pump you full of air during a laparoscopic procedure so they are able to see and move around better. Per Sister's advice, rocking in a rocking chair is the best way to keep moving that air out.
Hubs' family has two Christmas celebrations that weekend. While I would have loved to be
there instead of here, healing, I could not travel. Thankfully, my mama was able to come stay with me and Sophia, while hubs took the older three to his folks' for a night. Hubs says that should give me the 48 hours the surgeon suggested it would take for me to feel exponentially better. Mom and I watch movies, eat good food (except for the spoiled soup that I had in my pantry and tried to eat but decided the pain meds were throwing off my taste buds because it tasted horrible, only to realize several weeks later that it was indeed spoiled soup because it was supposed to be kept in the FRIDGE not the PANTRY!) and snuggle the baby. Nights are rough. I sleep sitting up so that the air doesn't move to my shoulders. Sister says that REALLY hurts. It's hard to lift my 11 pound baby, so I am thankful mom is able to stay and help with that. Ok, let's face it, the only things I do for myself all weekend are use the bathroom, eat the food set before me and feed the baby. So thankful for mom.
Monday comes. The kids and hubs are home. I am feeling awful. Not one bit better. I am in pain. My lacerations hurt and it feels like the air is still in there. I call my surgeon's office. The nurse tells me to keep taking my pain meds and give it another day or so. I agree that I will. I assume I will get better. Perhaps my body just isn't recovering as quickly as anticipated because it's still sort of recovering from childbirth as well. Or maybe laparoscopic procedures are not my thing. I think to myself that maybe what I'm feeling is actually normal for day three post-op. I even attempt to get out of the house with Hubs for awhile. The fact that I'm starting to hunch over when I stand should be a clue that things are not ok.
What day is it? Tuesday? Wednesday? Christmas is coming soon. Mom, Dad and Sarah are all coming for Christmas. Well, not mom, she hasn't left. Thank God for that. Pain is draining. It can suck the life out of you so quick. I am in a haze of pain, and feeling like I should be so much better by now. I'm walking hunched over, I can't lay down, my abdomen hurts all over and my shoulders...ow. How come the air still hurts? How is that possible?? By this point, I'm sleeping in the rocking chair downstairs. Sophia sleeps in her swing nearby so that I can still feed her at night. My appetite is gone, I'm actually nauseous most of the time, but thank you Jesus, I still have milk for my baby. I call the surgeon's office again. They offer more pain meds. Tomorrow will be better, right?
This whole week, I remember Hubs and everyone busting their behinds to finish the basement (enough) to move Cadee downstairs and move Lili across the hall. I am of no help and really don't even recall all of it getting done. Hubs put together the girls' furniture, finished the paint downstairs and even got Cadee's door on and I really don't recall any of it. I was so out of it.
On Wednesday, our pastor calls asking if we will be at Christmas Eve service. I remember answering, "I believe so!" or "That's the plan!" Or something like that. Maybe I was just hopeful that a miracle would happen. But, by Christmas Eve, I am in even more pain. My dad and my sister come. As soon as I see them, I see concern cloud their eyes. Do I look that rough? By 4 o'clock that day, I have decided that church is not going to happen tonight. But, I insist that we still host my brother, sister-in-law and my nieces and nephew that evening. I just don't have the strength or composure to make chili and cornbread. No problem. Mom and Sister can handle it. Sister comes to rub my shoulders. They hurt so bad. The heat pad isn't doing the trick anymore. I have an ice pack laying across my lacerations and a heat pad on my shoulder and nothing is making a difference. I can't leave this chair. It hurts too bad. I hear tension in the kitchen about how to prepare the chili but I can't even respond. I am in so much pain.
Brother and family come. As they round the corner to greet me, I see concern wash over their faces as well. We go about our evening, eating, talking, laughing, opening presents. Sophia gets loved on. Drake is so happy my nephew is here. And the girls are loving playing with cousins. Hubs brings me dinner. My sister-in-law made this really delicious soup and it is tasting good. I ask for seconds. Hey, if I'm feeling good, I should probably eat as much as my stomach will allow. We open presents. I am still finding things and assuming the kids got it for Christmas, because I'm not even sure I was fully present that evening. After presents, I start to feel miserable. Abdomen pain and sharp pains and nausea... I need to go upstairs. I don't want anyone to see this.
Brother and family leave. Hubs reads The Christmas Story to our kids every Christmas Eve
before bed. I don't want to miss it. I don't want to miss anything. I come back downstairs. I lower myself into the rocking chair. Someone puts Sophia on the floor by Daddy. She looks so cute in her Christmas jammies. Dad reads the story in front of the fireplace. It's a picture perfect moment. Minus the fact that I don't know how much more of this pain I can take. After the book, we all head to bed. I take a bucket, as I am feeling extremely nauseous. Everyone is anxious for Christmas morning! Hubs finishes wrapping presents upstairs. I nurse the baby and settle into my pillows to help me sleep upright. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will be ok.
A couple weeks after Miss Bliss' arrival, our favorite ice cream shop was closing it's doors for the season. Of course, we had to make a trip one last time! I had just fed Sophia, the diaper bag was ready, everyone had their shoes and coats on to load up, and I was feeling miserable. What was this? It felt like bad gas or something. I wondered if my body and organs were just readjusting after childbirth but, OH MY GOSH. And that quickly, I was on the floor, trying any position to find relief from this pain. I couldn't describe it to my worried husband by my side. With the kids all anxious to go, he was trying to get me to respond...Do we go get ice cream? What's wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital instead? I laid there for 15 minutes or so. And as quickly as the pain came, it was gone. And, it quickly became an afterthought. Off to ice cream we went!
November 19, 4:30pm ...Lili informs Dad, Nana and I that she has a concert THAT VERY NIGHT and she needs to be there at 6 p.m. We all snap into action to make that happen! A half an hour into it, the pain returns. There is no warning. No preparing for this. And it hurts to touch the right side of my abdomen. What is going on inside of me? I push through. Praying for the pain to subside. I try to sit through Lili's concert, I try to stand through Lili's concert, nothing is helping. I'm getting anxious about this. What is going on? My dear, concerned mother tells my sister what is going on. She calls and says, "It sounds like your gallbladder, sis." And she is able to describe the exact pain I am having. Like someone is squeezing me right under my ribs and it goes all the way around my back. Yes! That's it! Sister had her gallbladder out in 2008, so she knows what I'm going through. She advises me to stay away from sugar and carbs. (WHAT?!! What am I supposed to eat then?!) She empathizes that yes, it sucks, but we agree that the attacks are worse than a diet change. I make an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible.
My doctor feels around my abdomen, I clench and grimace as she gets closer to my right side. She agrees that I need an ultrasound to confirm the diagnosis:: Gall stones. My ultrasound is scheduled for the Tuesday before Thanksgiving.
The ultrasound tech is very nice. Pushes around a lot, but very kind to make sure I am still comfortable. He takes a bajillion pictures. I ask him what he sees. He gives me a rehearsed answer.."The doctors prefer we not tell the patients what we see." I razz him..."But you see something, right?" He responds with..."I do a lot of ultrasounds. I know what I'm looking at. And I know what I see." I keep razzing him..."So do I have a few stones?" He kindly responds..."I could get in trouble for responding. I'm sorry." Dang it. He's good. I head home and wait for my doctor to call me.
She is quick to respond before Thanksgiving, thankfully! I just want to know what's going on. She confirms what she thought before and what the ultrasound shows... Gall stones. But she is unsure if it's a giant mass of several gall stones or one big giant one. She tells me that it's taking up most of my gall bladder and that she would refer me to a surgeon right away. She advises that I could continue to live with attacks, but eventually, that mass will irritate my gall bladder too much and cause too much pain to live with.
Hubs agrees- that thing has got to come out! The surgeon's office calls and schedules a consultation. We talk with the surgeon, he reviews the scans, he doesn't question the diagnosis at all. It's pretty obvious. He goes over all of the risks of the actual procedure with me. He says that it could be a bunch of little stones, in which case the laparoscopy procedure will work just fine. But if it's one big one, I might wake up with a bigger laceration as they needed a bigger space to remove the organ. Well, yeah, that makes sense. Let's just get this thing out, and before the end of the year....We've already met our deductible with childbirth.
Surgery is scheduled for December 18th. Perfect. Before the end of the year, and I should have no problem healing my body before Christmas. Let's do this! I continue to have attacks here and there. I continue to watch my diet as much as possible. My shortest attack was the first one, at 15 minutes. My longest attack lasted seven hours. Yes, SEVEN HOURS. The way my surgeon explained an attack is that the gall stone(s) are rolling around in there and then they get sucked over the top of the bile duct tube and my body is trying so hard to make it pass through but it just can't. So that's where the pain comes from. All that effort to push this stuck stone through the tube. And, if it IS one giant stone, there is NO WAY it will fit!
December 17th...No eating after 8 pm. Got it. I'm starting to get nervous. I mean, it's surgery. Any surgery is nerve-racking. Add in the fact that I have a 6 week old that hasn't taken a bottle yet and I'm nervous.
December 18th...Girls are at school, Drake is at home with Nana and Sophia is with us at
the hospital. We have an elaborate plan to feed her before they take me back. That way, if she refuses the bottle, at least he could maybe hold her off until I'm out of surgery, and then I can try to give it to her. I know with anesthesia and such, I'll need to pump and dump for awhile, so she has to take a bottle. Lord please, she has to take that bottle. The nurse gets me all set up. IV in place. I talk to the surgeon, the anesthesiologist...All is well. We are ready. I tear up as I kiss my tiny babe and husband goodbye. You read about simple procedures going wrong and mama bleeds out on the table and the last thing she said to her husband was "I think you should shave" or something ridiculous. I know, I know, "Rachel, don't think like that! Why would you think that?!" I see it in Hubs' eyes- you'll be fine. And I'll keep saying it til you believe it. I give Soph another kiss. Please take your bottle, baby. I'll be back soon. I walk back to the operating room, climb up on the table, the nurse takes my glasses, I'm anxious, for sure. The anesthesiologist is talking about the glory days at Iowa State back in the 80s...and then I'm out. Just like that.
I remember waking up with an oxygen tube in my nose and seeing a wall and a screen. Ow. Then it comes out my mouth..."Ow". The nurse turns, "Oh you're awake. I know it hurts. Let's get you something for the pain." I ask- "How did it go? Am I doing ok?" The nurse responds- "Everything went well. And your stats are looking good." I hear another patient being rolled in. She's just waking up and she is losing it over how much pain she is in. Yikes, I think, I wonder what procedure she had done. I now understand why they have the beds facing the walls. My throat is so dry. I later realize it's from the tube that was down my throat. As soon as I'm fully awake, they wheel me to another recovery area. One where my hubs and baby can come see me. We arrive at the "room"...an area with a recliner, a table and a curtain as the door. They park the bed and advise me to use my arms to pull myself up and get into the chair. I give the nurse a look. You expect me to move myself from here to there. I have four lacerations in my abdomen and I'm supposed to get from this reclined position to that chair on my own. Lord, help me. It hurts, but I make it to the chair. They ask
if I'm ready to eat some toast, I ask for my husband and daughter. Both arrive in a timely manner. I drink my Sierra Mist while Hubs holds Sophia close to me. Sierra Mist was my favorite drink...it reminded me of when Drake was born. The girls brought me a lot of Sierra Mist when they visited. Now, it leaves a bad taste in my brain. I eat my toast, drink my soda. Hubs and I talk about how it went.
While I was getting stitched up, the surgeon reported to Hubs that it went very well. He said my gall bladder was pretty sick but he got in and out in 20 minutes. And, Hubs tells me that Sophia drank her bottle like a champ! It seems like the day went flawlessly and now I just needed to focus on healing from surgery.
A quick stop at Target for some pain management and we are headed home. To heal. To
rest. To bounce back. At least that's the plan...
