Two weeks ago today, I had my hysterectomy. As I drove into the hospital parking lot, with my step dad and mom in the car with me, I had the talk that is necessary, but difficult - discussing my living will and my desires for my few possessions in the event that I die. "During my devotionals this morning, God told me it was not yet my time to go home, but I want you to be prepared just in case."
The surgery went well. All I really know about it at this point is that my doctor came out and told my mom that my insides were ugly. Not sure what she meant by that, but my mom got the feeling that those suckers would have had to come out regardless and I probably would not have been able to have kids anyway. I go in for a checkup on Monday so I will ask what "ugly" means to her.
My first night in the hospital was great. I felt no pain. I remember having visitors, but I don't remember much else other than being extremely lovey dovey (very much outside my normal character). I remember telling everyone in the room that I loved them and teasing Mike that I was acting the way he does when he has a few too many. I also remember feeling no pain and thinking this was a piece of cake!
Then comes Saturday. The nurse took out my catheter and made me get out of bed. Talk about excruciating pain. I could not do it myself so she pulled me up. I hated her for it. I know she was just doing her job, but I did not like her. After pulling me out of bed, she made me walk down the hall. What had I done??? I think I made a terrible mistake! My oncologist highly suggested the full hysterectomy, but the ultimate choice was mine. I think I made the wrong one! That's when I remember my mom telling me that it had to be done.
The medication made me extremely thirsty. Drinking so much water made me have to get up to use the restroom a lot. I learned to use the hospital bed to my advantage to help me get out of bed. After every trip to the restroom, I took a walk down the hall. Might as well. I needed to get stronger and they were not going to let me go home until I passed gas. I thought that was hilarious, but they explained to me that passing gas lets them know that my insides are waking up from the anesthesia an working properly. Walking helps. One woman across the hall from me had been in the hospital almost a week and had not yet passed gas.
I realized right away how helpless I was and thanked God for my mother. She spent the nights in the hospital with me and helped me go to the restroom and walk the halls. I much preferred her help to the nurses. She was a little more gentle.
During one of my bathroom trips early Sunday morning, a small toot escaped. I looked up at my mom and we both got a little giddy! I was going to get to go home that day!
As excited as I was to leave the hospital and see my little Bailey Bear, I was also terrified of leaving. It was very reminiscent of leaving the hospital after finding out I had cancer. Then, I got to leave after my first treatment. I was terrified and wanted to stay because I had bad anxiety about how the drugs would effect me.
This time, I was terrified because I had no idea how I would manage getting out of bed without the help of the hospital bed. This time, however, unlike last time, I made my fears known. I did not leave the hospital until I was good and ready, which was after my afternoon pain medication. I was grateful for my cancer experience because it had prepared me for this experience. I now knew how to speak my mind, ask for help, and accept help.
A friend from church met me at the house with a wheelchair. It turned out to be a Godsend because the couch was way too soft and I knew I would struggle getting up and down, but the kitchen table chairs were way too hard and uncomfortable. Like Goldie Locks, I found the chair that fit just right!
The week was more difficult than the cancer treatment weeks. During treatment, I may have been tired and had chemo brain, but at least I could still mostly function normally. I could still basically take care of myself if I had to.
This time was unlike anything I had ever experienced or prepared for. I was completely and totally helpless. I could do next to nothing for myself. The medication left me groggy all the time. I could not bathe myself. I could not clothe myself. I could not feed my dog. I could not pick up my dog. I could not open my own pill bottles. I could manage to get out of bed by myself, but I could not manage to get back into bed by myself.
That was okay the for the first week because that's what I expected and like I said, going through cancer taught me how to rely on others and ask for the help. By the following Friday, I was headed for depression.
One of my medications, Oxycodone, can cause breathing problems. I noticed this starting with me. I could not get a good deep breath in. I had to sleep sitting up because of the pain and the developing breathing problems. I do not like taking medication anyway so at the first sign of problems, I stopped taking it.
I could feel a cough coming on. Each time, I drank water until the feeling went away. At night, I already had trouble sleeping upright. It was made worse by my breathing problems. Every time I would fall into a deep sleep, I would wake myself up coughing. Most of the time, I could stifle it. However, on Friday afternoon, I felt a cough coming on while walking in the living room. I hit my knees and held my stomach in as they suggested.
Poor Mike and his girls. They had just helped me coral Bailey back inside and thought I was upset because I thought she had run off. Mike hit the ground next to me to see what was wrong. I was crying and trying not to cough. I tried to ask for water, but could not get the words out. His two girls stood watching, obviously concerned and scared. I finally got the words out and Mike got me some water.
After the moment passed, I was able to explain to everyone what had happened. I was not upset about Bailey. I knew she had run to the back of the house and had not run off. I was crying mainly because I was upset and because coughing is painful. I told them about the medicine and why I had stopped taking it. I told them I was frustrated because I was not yet better. I understood recovery would take six weeks, but I honestly expected to be significantly better in one week.
I gave in and took another pill to calm my stomach and my nerves. Later that night, I called my doctor's nurse and asked her about all of this, mainly 1) I was bleeding a little at the incision site. Not much, but it still concerned me. I explained my coughing fit earlier. 2) speaking of the coughing fit, I do not want to take the medication. How long do people generally take the medication? 3) is it normal to still be spotting a week after the surgery?
Her responses made me feel so much better and brought me out of what could have been a bad spiral. 1) There is blood between the skin and tape. It would be normal for coughing to make it ooze a little. As long as there is not redness or fever, it should be okay. 2) She reminded me that I just went through major surgery. The bikini cut is the hardest to recover from. It is going to take the full six weeks to recover. I need to look at this like a long holiday and enjoy it. Remember to do (or not do) as the doctor told me. As far as the pills, it's okay to take them as needed for as long as needed. However, she understands my concern and suggested I try taking Motrin during the day and the pill at night to help me sleep. 3) It is normal to still spot, as long as it is not so much that it fills a pad in an hour. As the stitches dissolve, I will continue to spot.
I had a better day Saturday. Taking the Motrin helped.
I had another bad day Sunday. I woke up and watched my church service online. As I watched, I felt myself growing more and more bitter. As I heard the sounds of others in the house, I grew more and more bitter. I was angry because instead of getting up and going to church, they were in the kitchen making breakfast. I wasn't mad because I thought they should go to church. I was mad because the could go and chose not to. Selfish and wrong, but that's how I felt.
I wasn't going to let myself go down that road, though. I was just beginning week two of recovery. If I start down that path, I have a long, downward spiral to go down. Getting out would be too hard if I let myself go there.
Instead, I talked it out with my mom and realized the reason I was so upset was that it was Sunday. I LOVE my church and the people there. I miss seeing the people there. I miss interacting with them. I miss the youth. We are coming upon the holiday season with lots of extra events at church. One of which was to be that night, a Jimmy Wayne Christmas concert supporting CASA. I am not a fan of modern country music and could not name one Jimmy Wayne song, but our pastor had done such an amazing job talking up this concert and Jimmy's testimony. I wanted to go, but couldn't.
I also admitted that although I knew this would be a long recovery, I was not one bit prepared for how hard it would be. Had I known then what I knew now, I would not have had the surgery. My mom reminded me that I may not have had a choice. I know I needed it and I'm glad I got it done and over with, but it has been hard. Talking it out with her and understanding why I was feeling the way I was feeling made me feel better.
My mom and step dad left Monday afternoon. It hit me harder than I ever expected. When my family was here taking care of me during my cancer treatments, it was more of a comfort than a necessity. This time, I would have been lost without my mom. One day, as she helped dry me and change me after a shower, I asked if she ever thought she'd have to do this again once I grew up? I would have been lost without my mom taking care of me. When she wanted to come up to be with me during this time, I thought it was a nice idea, but like with the cancer, not necessary. She has been here before, though, and I suppose she knew better.
When she left, I felt so lonely. I didn't miss her because she waited on my hand and foot. I missed her because, well, I just did. I suppose it felt like being a child again, needing my mommy. Tuesday, I would be all alone for the first time since before the surgery!
When we got home from the airport, a ride that was not very fun (sitting up straight, bumps in the road, and wearing a seatbelt), Mike and the girls went out to eat. When they got home, they all went to their own rooms, leaving me alone in the living room. The silence and loneliness were almost unbearable. I called Brad and talked to him until I felt better. I am thankful he was there to be my friend at that moment!
Tuesday evening, the youth pastor and his wife brought me dinner. What great timing! It was so nice of them to check in with me and to bring me food. Made me feel like a part of the church again. I told him how I missed them all and missed being an active part of the church!
Each day since I have felt progressively better. I can get out of bed pretty easy now, but I still cannot do much of anything. On Wednesday, I tried way too hard. I planned (and did) clean out the refrigerator, clean the kitchen, and do a load of laundry. I even managed to put presents for the girls under the tree. In order to do that, I laid down flat and pushed the box under. OUCH!!! Simple task, but it hurt something fierce.
On Thursday, I was still feeling the effects of doing too much. At lunch, I realized it is hard simply to pick up a jar of peanut butter. Contrary to my deepest desires to do something, anything at all other than sit around, I did just that. I watched a movie and read. Nothing more.
As if on cue, I spoke with a nurse from my insurance company, Humana, checking up on me. She reminded me of the importance of letting myself get well. She said, "even doing something as simple as lifting a pot could pop a stitch." I have decided to do as little as possible, physically speaking, until I hear from my doctor on Monday.
With the exception of a few hiccups last week, I have been doing very well emotionally. This down time has been a great time for me to reconnect with God. My prayer life is better than it has been in a while. Mike, and his oldest daughter, Morgan, have been wonderful to me. (His youngest is sweet, but is too young to be able to do too much for me.) Morgan cooked for me last night and Mike brought up my recliner to the living room so I could be more comfortable.
As the medicine has worn off, I have been sleeping better. I still have to sleep sitting up, but I am getting used to it. Last night, I was able to sleep soundly through the night and even had a very nice and unexpected dream. I haven't dreamt in a while, either.
This morning, I was woken up by an issue at work, something I was able to help with from my computer. It was nice doing even that little bit. Made me feel needed and connected again. I know they could have done what I did without me, but it was nice of them to include me and allow me to help!
I do not think I will be going to church this weekend. I still cannot wear pants - other than my pajama bottoms. I cannot stand anything touching my stomach. I only have three pair of pajama bottoms I can wear, ones without elastic waistbands. One pair my sister gave me for Christmas last year. The other two Mike and his girlfriend bought me once they found out how I felt about elastic waist bands!
I also cannot sit for long stretches. I cannot sit barely at all on hard benches/chairs. I have been in my wheelchair for a few hours now and my bottom is miserable.
However, as I continue to improve, I have more that I plan to do. I have work projects planned that I can do from home. I plan to start working on my other writing some. Brad is coming to visit so I'll have a friend to spend some days with me.
I cannot wait until I can at least go to a movie or go back for at least part of church. Until then, I am eternally grateful for my sister and cancer for teaching me how to rely on others, my mom for taking care of me when I needed it most (night and day), God who keeps me company, Mike and his girls for all the little things that make a huge difference, and other friends who visit and check up on me. As long as I can keep my spirits up, I can lick the next four weeks!!!
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