I had twinges of stomach virus stuff off and on last week, and last night it apparently decided to stop playing around. From 11pm on I was absolutely miserable - up every 30 minutes or so to shuffle to the bathroom - and I am just now starting to feel better. My mom describes the experience as "feeling wretched and wanting to die," and, man, did she hit the nail on the head. It feels like it may be on the way out *crosses fingers*, and I can't say that the thought bothers me in the slightest. I'm ready to drink a big glass of water instead of sucking on crushed ice and sipping ginger ale. I can think of more pleasant ways to drop 6 pounds.
Recently in health Category
My physical therapist's name is Walter, which reminds me of Fringe and makes me chuckle whenever he comes to mind. Last night was my second appointment with him, and, apparently, things are Not Good. Long story short, my spine is rigid, my muscles are locked, and I have an extremely limited range of motion, none of which were the initial reason for the PT referral (rotator cuff problems). According to Walter (hee), tissue and muscles aren't supposed to hurt when you apply firm pressure, and yet that is definitely not the case with my muscles and tissue. It appears that this is a problem that has been years in the making (Mike is at this very moment saying "I told you so!" ... or at least thinking it), and it could take as long as 6 months of PT before I'm back to where I should be.
So, I survived the surgery, and the only pain I'm having now appears to be residual from said surgery. If I am not counting my chicks before they're hatched, this could very well mean the surgery was a success!
I was pretty nervous pre-surgery, but everyone was really nice. The nurse who was doing most of my check-in stuff was a TALKER, holy shit. The first time she came in while Mike was back with me, he did not breathe until she left the room. There was this warm air machine they hooked my gown up to so I'd stay warm till it was time for them to wheel me back for the slicing. The anesthesiologist was way more awesome than the colonoscopy one, although not quite as awesome as the exploratory surgery one (that one won me over for good with his little tiny pre-IV numbing needle).
Post surgery was, eh. I was pretty sore and VERY itchy. My body does not like meds, apparently. I stayed in Recovery for a little bit, then they wheeled me up to my hospital room, which was arguably the most painful part of the whole experience. It felt they merrily pushed my bed over every possible bump, and when I pointed out (nicely at first, then in tears) that it hurt like mad, their only solution was to tell me to put an alcohol wipe right by my nose and tell me to breath deep over the bumps. What the hell is an alcohol wipe supposed to do? Reek the pain away? It was better once I was settled into my room and could go to sleep. The pain medicine button was a big help, too. Mike's mom sent me a lovely flower arrangement with a balloon and a teddy bear, and my mom stopped by after work to check in and bring Mike some Real Food since he'd been there all day with only bagels to subsist on.
The highlights of my overnight hospital stay: spilling my ice water on myself twice in one night, pressing the call button for the nurse when I was trying to turn on the light, and having to have help to turn off the tv. I'm pretty sure the nurse who on duty for all of that was beyond happy to go home at the end of her shift.
It was kind of iffy as to whether or not I'd get to go home on Wednesday as planned, because I had a slight fever and felt like death. In the end, the doctor decided to go ahead and send me home, which turned out to be the best solution. Once I got home, got settled into bed with a glass of ice water, and snuggled with my puppies for a bit, I started feeling better. I think part of the problem was the pain meds they switched me to after taking away the pain med button. My tummy gets really, really upset on this stuff, and I get a killer headache, which both combine to make me miserable.
Bill and Steph came over for a quick visit on Thursday and brought me some deelishus get-well-soon chocolate-dipped strawberries, which are possibly the best sick food evar.
Now that I've been home for a couple of days, I'm getting better at navigating around. Most of the time I don't even need help sitting up, although there are times when it's a bit more painful than I'd like. I'm already tired of being an invalid, though. I'm ready to do more around the house, or at least pick up my damn puppies. It's not like they're Rottweilers, you know.
:sigh: I'm ready for this week to be over, please.
* I've apparently quit taking my Paxil cold turkey, by way of forgetting to refill my damn prescription for over a week and not realizing it till I was trying to figure out why I've been feeling so weird recently. It feels like I'm on the hungover side of a two-day binge, and, oh, does it suck. Since my original plan was to quit the Paxil a few months after the sugery anyway, I decided, what the hell? No point in going through this twice, when I can just ride it out now and just start my plan (to take better care of myself and see how I do without it now that I don't have the birth control altering my biochemistry) a little early. The side effects this time around are HORRIBLE (I am constantly queasy, my eyes can't stay focused for longer than 30 seconds at a whack, and MY GOD THE DISORIENTATION), but I'd rather only do this once, so, fine, whatever.
* I thought I had all the pre-op stuff taken care of on Monday, but I got a call yesterday from the lab saying that they didn't draw enough blood to do a pregnancy test in addition to the other stuff they did, so they needed me to come back in for that. No apologies for the mix-up and/or the inconvenience, just "Hey, you need to stop by so we can get more blood." I did, and now I have a bruise on each arm. They promised that was all the blood they needed from me, though, so I should still be okay to get my IV in my left arm (better veins = less poking with needles = much, much happier Kate).
* Thanks to the Paxil de-tox, I haven't been sleeping well all week. I was stumbling along, tired but functioning fairly well, until last night. Mike took a four hour nap after we got home, which resulted in him waking back up around 9 and not coming to bed until close to 11. Then he started talking about things that were way more emotionally taxing than I had the resources for that late, and we didn't go to sleep until a few minutes before midnight. I am EXHAUSTED today, is what I'm saying. And grouchy, too. Oh, am I grouchy. I don't do well with not enough sleep.
* I dreamed that one of my puppies died - was hit by a car while I was watching - and I KNOW it's just a dream, but the images and emotions from the dream are still with me. I gave the puppies extra loves this morning before I left.
* I think I'm getting a touch of anxiety about Tuesday 'cause, in addition to the Paxil-related stuff mentioned above, I've been having chest pains since Wednesday. I've also been itchier than if I'd been rolled around in dusty ice cubes, but I don't know if that's due to anxiety or if my allergies are flaring up for some reason and manifesting that way. Really, it doesn't matter what's causing the itchies - I itch ALL THE TIME, and most of the time, it's my boobs that are the itchiest, which is uncomfortable in public, to say the least.
I need a nap.
I talked to the nurse today, and my surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday. I'm going in this afternoon to fill out pre-op paperwork and stuff. In just a little over a week, I'll be recovering and hopefully on my way to finally being pain-free.
