Month: December 2010

I’m answering (In)Courage’s end-of-year questions today because it’s waaaay easier than trying to sum up my year on my own.

I’m lazy like that. 🙂

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1. What was the single best thing that happened this past year?

Kevin survived his motorcycle accident.

2. What was the single most challenging thing that happened?

Helping Kevin recover from his motorcycle accident and help him learn to walk again. By the grace of God, the man not only survived being hit head on, but he conquered his injuries and is now back to normal (save for a slight limp).

3. What was an unexpected joy this past year?

Being able to go ahead and take our family vacation to New York and cruise up to Canada. We weren’t sure we were going to make it because of Kevin’s accident, but he healed faster than anyone thought he would and with the help of a walker, a cane, and his family, we were able to go on our vacation. It was really hard on Kevin, but he endured and it was a sweet victory.

4. What was an unexpected obstacle?

My intestinal issues. Even though we all knew my problems would eventually catch up with me, we didn’t expect them to require emergency surgery or happen at the worst time of year. (Though I suppose it could have been worse – I could have been stuck in Canada when my problem flared up).

5. Pick three words to describe 2010.

Apprehensive
Uncertain
Challenging

6. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe your 2010 (don’t ask them; guess based on how you think your spouse sees you).

Strong
Stubborn
Determined

7. Pick three words your spouse would use to describe their 2010 (again, without asking).

Shocking
Painful
Persevered

8. What were the best books you read this year?

Based on the “5” rating on my books page:

The Pact by Jodi Picoult
Morning Comes Softly by Debbie Macomber
The Apprentice by Tess Gerritsen
Never Change by Elizabeth Berg
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

9. With whom were your most valuable relationships?

My husband, my boys and my parents.

10. What was your biggest personal change from January to December of this past year?

I think having Kevin home was probably my biggest personal challenge. His job liquidated because they couldn’t obtain funding (banks weren’t lending money, thanks Obama), so he ended up wrapping up the company from home. It was challenging to have him underfoot every day, but we managed.

11. In what way(s) did you grow emotionally?

I grow emotionally nearly every day. I’m constantly challenging aspects of my personality and trying to BE a better person. I’m working on it.

I can honestly say that I believe I’m a much better person than I have ever been. I’m still pretty opinionated, egotistical and judgmental, but I’m learning that life? Is not always black and white, no matter how much I try and tell myself that.

12. In what way(s) did you grow spiritually?

Kevin’s accident just strengthened my faith. I know, without one smidgen of doubt, that our faith in God is what saved him and saw us through that trying time. It also helped me become more publicly comfortable with my Christian faith and I’m now more free to share my faith with others. I would like to believe that the Truth or Tradition articles I post on this blog also bless some people out there and I can’t help but wonder if the challenges we’ve been through this past year were attacks from the adversary because we are being EFFECTIVE in spreading God’s wonderful truth.

13. In what way(s) did you grow physically?

I think I’ve grown more comfortable with my body over this past year. I certainly understand it better now that I’ve learned my intestinal issues were indeed an ISSUE. I’ve also learned to listen a little more carefully and to not put off going to see the doctor in the future.

14. In what way(s) did you grow in your relationships with others?

Kevin and I have grown even closer since his accident. We bonded on unexpected levels; it’s a much deeper bond than simply being man and wife. He completely relied on me for several weeks while he recovered and we have a much deeper understanding of each other as a result.

15. What was the most enjoyable area of managing your home?

We did a ton of stuff around the house this year:

New kitchen
Completely re-decorated the living room/dining room
Ripped up carpets and replaced with hardwood floors in living room/dining room.
Re-did the front bathroom
New roof
Repainted the front entrance

We still want to replace the carpet with hand-scraped hardwood in the family room sometime this next year.

I’m not a big homemaker, and making all of these changes was a big pain, but it looks really good and we’re really happy with the end results. I can’t imagine living anywhere else – I love our home.

16. What was your most challenging area of home management?

Getting through the kitchen remodel. That was a mess. I had to wash dishes in the bathroom for a few weeks and the dust alone was enough to drive a sane person crazy. But again, the end result was WELL WORTH the trouble.

17. What was your single biggest time waster in your life this past year?

Probably Twitter and Facebook, which is probably a pretty universal answer. But you know? I think my love affair with Twitter is about over. I’m finding it increasingly LAME.

18. What was the best way you used your time this past year?

I can’t answer this question – I’m still looking for the best way to use my time. I have a feeling though, this might be the year I find it. (BIG changes on the horizon for our lives for 2011).

19. What was the biggest thing you learned this past year?

That God is good, family is everything and I’m much stronger than I originally thought.

20. Create a phrase or statement that describes 2010 for you.

This year was filled with tears, prayers, gratitude and healing.

I have good days, I also have days where I’m so weak it’s hard to hold my head up.

It’s amazing how much energy your body requires to get over surgery. Just the simple act of taking a shower makes me huff and puff like I’ve just run a 5K and I have to sit down and catch my breath before moving on to putting on my makeup and drying my hair. What used to take me 45 minutes now takes me two hours to accomplish. It’s really frustrating.

In addition, my appetite alternates between RAVENOUS and NAUSEOUS. It’s the most bizarre feeling. I’m at once both hungry and sick at the same time. Though I am eating, it takes effort and I rarely finish anything anymore. I realize that my stomach is most likely the size of a walnut right now, but just eating a bowl of cereal almost seems more than it’s worth at times.

I have pain pills, but I don’t take them very often. The pain that I feel is mainly caused by my staples. Since it’s a vertical cut and my staples are in the folds of my skin, I feel them every time I bend or sit. Sometimes they’re so tight it’s like I caught some of my skin in my zipper and it pinches – hard.

Having a BM or passing gas is also sometimes really painful. I just have to breathe through it because there is no way in hell I’m holding any of that stuff in ever again. I’m assuming this is because my intestine has been pieced back together, but I’ll be sure to ask the doctor about that when I go in to see him on January 6th to have my staples removed.

Though this has been a very difficult week, it’s also getting better. I am getting stronger and my body is slowly adjusting. I’m still glad this happened though as it means I’ve finally gotten my problem fixed and now it’s just a question of finding my new normal.

A quick word about my roommates:

I had three while I was in the hospital. The first one was a sweet, sassy older woman who had had throat surgery. She had somehow developed some sort of pocket in her throat and it prevented her from swallowing. She was extremely nice and left me alone, but once in a while she would softly call out, “You okay over there, Karen?” Her daughter kept her company most of the time, though her son came in one time. They were both teachers and I learned that the man was actually a teacher at my son’s schools. We compared names and he thought he remembered my youngest son – typical. Jazz is a talker and would most likely be the one teachers remembered. He taught freshmen science so it’s very likely he had taught my boys.

The woman and her daughter got along extremely well and they gave each other a hard time, joking around and whatnot. It was really amusing to listen to them. They reminded me a lot of my mom and her mother – they just had a comfortable and easy going relationship. It made me miss my mom.

(By the way, mom called me a lot while I was in the hospital. I really appreciated talking to her and it made me feel like a little girl whenever I would hear the concern in her voice. Talking to her helped me stay grounded and encouraged me – everything was going to be all right).

The woman was gone by the time I got back from my endoscopy. (Yes. I had a colonoscopy AND an endoscopy. Lucky me, right?)

My second roommate arrived on the day of my surgery. I’m not really sure what she was in for, but she was recovering from surgery and they wanted to observe her over night, her husband was with her and he was very protective of her. She didn’t say much, her husband did most of her communication for her, but the few times she spoke she seemed nice enough. I don’t remember much from the night after my surgery, but I do remember waking up to this woman’s husband yelling. He apologized profusely for his abruptness. He was a Vietnam Veteran and sudden noises would cause him to jerk awake and yell in reaction to his time at war. It only happened a few times that night, but it was enough to disturb me. I didn’t mind, really, it sort of kept my mind off my own troubles, at least temporarily. They left Christmas Eve day.

My third roommate arrived on the day I was due to be released from the hospital. She had had a tumor removed from her bladder and she was expected to be released the next day. She talked, non-stop, from the MOMENT she arrived. And I mean, non-stop. She recanted every bit of her surgery at least a hundred times and she spoke with a slow … southern … drawl. To top it off, she didn’t have her hearing aids in so everyone had to repeat their questions no less than four times.

She drove me absolutely mad within five minutes and I thanked God that I wouldn’t have to deal with her over night. She was a sweet lady, but extremely slow, not only in speech, but overall, though some of that might have been because she was still a bit sedated. In fact, her family popped their head around the curtain to apologize for her. “Sorry about this,” they said. “She likes to talk.”

That was the understatement of the year. In fact, she talked so much, even the nurses gently chided her and reminded her that she was sharing the room and to have a little respect for her roommate. I had to listen to her all morning until my doctor finally came in around 12:30 that day to officially release me. I was never so glad to get out of there in all my life. Another few hours and they would have had to lock me in a looney bin. Seriously.

Christmas Day – 2010

I woke up to silence. Whenever you’ve been in the hospital for a while, you notice when it’s quiet. I had my room to myself and very nearly the entire floor to myself. The place was virtually empty. The only people left were likely emergency cases like myself.

Christmas Day was uneventful for me. I walked around the floor several times (to show the nurses that I was getting around on my own well enough and because I was bored out of my mind in my room all by my lonesome), and a few patients had decorated their rooms with tiny Christmas trees and their families had brought all of their gifts up to celebrate Christmas together. I regretted, more than once, that my family hadn’t decided to go ahead and celebrate Christmas at the hospital and I felt lonely, sad and very sorry for myself.

It was not a very joyous Christmas for me or my family.

It was a quiet day – I watched TV, surfed the ‘net, pooped (no less than SIX times, thank you very much), talked to my mom, my guys, slept and tried not to be bitter about spending Christmas at the hospital. In short, I was a pathetic mess, but I tried hard not to let the nurses see how depressed I was. Remember, it was all about convincing them to let me go home.

The day after Christmas was more of the same. I walked, I forced myself to eat solid food (even though I didn’t eat much, it was enough to show the nurses that I could handle it), I watched TV, slept, pooped, surfed the ‘net and longed to go home. The doctor on call was impressed with my progress. He said that many patients who had the same sort of surgery as me took a minimum of five or six days to recover enough to go home, but considering I was doing so well, he was going to recommend I go home the next day – just four days after my surgery.

Since I was eating and drinking so well on my own, the nurses unhooked my IV and I was a free woman. They left me alone Sunday night save for one time to come in and take my vitals and I was able to get some pretty good sleep that night.

Monday morning, they allowed me to take a shower (which was SOOOOO HARD to get through but I managed) and I got dressed, packed up my stuff and impatiently waited for my doctor to finally show up around lunch time to get the process started on allowing me to go home.

Kevin came and got me and we got home around 3:30 Monday, December 27th. I took a pain pill around 6:00 that evening, had a little dinner and felt okay enough to participate in our Christmas by 8:00 that evening.

But that’s another post.

So, all in all, I was in the hospital for a little over a week. I went in on December 18th, went home on December 20th, went back on December 22nd and was finally released December 27th. Even though I wish the timing had been better on this whole episode, I’m so glad that my intestinal issues are over and we can all get back to normal.

I’m emerging from a bad dream. Seriously, this past week has been a trip to hell and back. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in all my life.

This is also the first time I’ve felt like sitting down and writing about my experiences. I’ve been in physical pain and mentally drained of all emotion and thought. I’m not 100% yet – in fact, as I sit here, my heart is hammering double time, I feel a little woozy and my staples are so tight that it’s hard to catch a breath, but at least I can sit upright without wanting to pass out, so we’re making progress.

In case you’re just tuning in, this time last week I admitted myself to the hospital. My insides swelled to about three times their size and I was unable to pass gas or have a bowel movement for close to a week. I was a walking time bomb – literally. In fact, if this had had happened back in the old days, before all of our technologies and talented doctors, I’m quite certain I would have died. My insides would have burst, toxins would have flooded my body and I would simply cease to exist.

But let’s not get melodramatic.

Surgery Day – December 23

I was scheduled to go into surgery around 3:00 or 4:00 that day. I still had a rectal tube (sorry for the TMI but sometimes life is messy) and as if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough and didn’t have enough on my plate to deal with, I started my period. (I was late, by the way. In fact, I had quite convinced myself that I was going to skip the month of December entirely, but no such luck). I freaked out thinking that would somehow postpone my surgery, but the nurses assured me it wasn’t that big of a deal. In fact, they said, it happened quite often. They said that the stress of having surgery often triggered women into a menstrual cycle so I didn’t feel too bad after that.

But still ….. NOW?!?!

The day ticked by slowly. I wasn’t physically uncomfortable, they were giving me something for the pain, but I was dying of thirst. I had been NPO (nothing by mouth) for 24-hours and my mouth was like the Sahara Desert. I was also worried that I would get bumped and my surgery would be put off for another day. (That happened to Kevin a few times when he had had his motorcycle accident back in April. I think he got bumped three times before I threw a fit and they got to him).

Two o’clock rolled around and still no word. I started to sweat but hadn’t given up hope at that point. The nurses didn’t know anything. Finally, at 2:30, they told me they were coming for me.

Kevin and the boys were there and they rode down to the operating area with me. I tried my best to maintain a positive attitude around them, I didn’t want them to worry, but inside I was scared out of my mind. I’ve never had surgery before and I wasn’t sure what to expect or how it would go.

We said our goodbyes (I remember waving cheerfully and feeling so stupid – like I was about to go on vacation or something – I also remember the boys’ worried faces) and they wheeled me into the holding room. Due to some procedure protocol, they had to make sure I wasn’t pregnant. They had me go to a restroom to produce a urine sample. I couldn’t produce a urine sample, I had just peed and honestly didn’t have any more to give. This was a problem, because they couldn’t proceed with the surgery until they made sure I wasn’t pregnant. (This must have been an issue for them in the past because they were QUITE insistent). Luckily, they had drawn some blood from me and the blood sample is good for 72 hours. So, I had to wait about 30 minutes for them to get a sample of that blood and then run a pregnancy test on it.

It was negative, of course. (As if my being on my period wasn’t enough of a sign I wasn’t pregnant, but they had to do their job).

While I was waiting to find out the result of my non-issue pregnancy test, I laid on my bed and listened to other people either being prepped for surgery or coming out of surgery. The groans of pain was enough to cause the hairs on my arms to stand on end. There was one very old woman who was unresponsive to their questions and they spent several tense moments trying to revive her. In addition, every time the doors would open, I would get a glimpse of several nurses waiting to go into their surgeries and some of them had on full face masks and protective eye wear, like they were preparing to drill into bone or something.

I was quickly freaking myself out. My blood pressure rose and my heart rate sky rocketed. I could hear other doctors coming in and reassuring their patients, even making them laugh, and that helped me somewhat. I forced myself to relax but I’ll be honest, it was hard. I was seriously scared.

And alone.

My nurses were great. They really were. But they were busy and didn’t really have the time to spend with me comforting me, so I just sort of made myself relax because I was afraid if I got myself worked up too much more, they would have to postpone my surgery.

It wasn’t as if I WANTED my surgery, I just wanted to have it over with so I could concentrate on getting better.

Finally, my doctor came in.

A word about my doctor – I don’t like him. He’s not the most personable doctor I’ve ever had and his bed-side manner sucks, but to be fair, I was an emergency case and he was fitting me in, so I should be grateful for that. It’s just, every time I needed something, or the nurses needed to ask him a question, he could never be reached and he never returned calls. The few times he had come to see me in the hospital, he was brusque and borderline rude. I just hoped his medical skills were better than his people skills.

My doctor came in. He came to my bed never once looking at me. He went through my paperwork, signed where he was supposed to sign never making eye contact with me or saying anything to me. Even the nurses sort of shuffled nervously around him. Finally, he looked at me. “Any questions?”

By now, I’m so irritated with him for not giving me the time of day even though he was getting ready to cut into me I just returned his dead-pan look and said, “nope.”

And that was that. He turned on his heel and I watched him walk off.

That was the last thing I remembered before the surgery.

Kevin told me that the surgery took 2 1/2 hours – longer than they were expecting. Apparently, in addition to cutting out the twist in my large intestine, they discovered that I had A TON of extra intestine that needed to be removed. How they didn’t see this on the x-rays or the CT scan is beyond me, but they cut out all of that extra intestine (the doctor later illustrated just how much that was and it was A LOT) and sewed the ends back together again.

Because they had to remove all of this extra intestine, my incision ended up being MUCH longer than they thought it would initially be. They cut around my belly button and made a vertical incision down (six inches) toward my privates. This incision is currently held together by staples.

My doctor said that when they removed the intestine, my grotesquely bloated stomach promptly deflated. My stomach is now a floppy mess. The skin has been pulled out of shape and is puckered – it’ll take me quite a long time to work the muscles back into shape. But I’m not complaining, the problem has been fixed. (I hope).

I remember being buried by blankets when I got back to my room after my surgery. In fact, they had even wrapped a blanket around my head like a hood I was shivering so fiercely. I also remember frantically pushing my pain button, though nothing happened. They had me on a PCA (patient-controlled analgesia) which meant I could control how and when I received any pain killer, but it was only programmed to allow me dosages every ten minutes, so I could push away but nothing would happen unless it was time for another dosage.

I also remember opening my eyes and seeing Kevin, but I couldn’t focus on him and that worried me. I saw him, but I couldn’t pinpoint him, my eyes would flicker upward and refused to remain constant. I tried not to freak out about that, thinking it was probably just the anesthesia but it was weird. I was in and out of consciousness for quite some time, but finally, after about 30 minutes of being back in my room, I started to come around.

The pain took my breath away. It was a biting pain, like an animal was ripping chunks of flesh off my body. It didn’t seem like it took that long to get a handle on the pain, but until then, I couldn’t even think straight. I don’t remember much about the rest of that night … and it’s probably a good thing.

Recovering – Christmas Eve

I felt better. And by better I mean, I was conscious and aware of my surroundings. They had had to put a catheter in me, which was very inconvenient considering my period was flowing heavily by this time and the only way I could control it was to insert a tampon (again, TMI, sorry, but I want to remember this because … wow). So, I had a tampon AND a catheter tube in my lady parts to deal with. Talk about uncomfortable. The nurses didn’t exactly want me to do that, they would have preferred I stick to pads, but I was flowing so heavily that I was making messes and it was seriously stressing me out and I didn’t need anymore stress at that time, so I just dealt with it.

The menstrual cramps, coupled with the cramps of having abdominal surgery, were nearly unbearable. I was hooked up to my pain meds, but I hesitated to use them. Pain meds cause constipation and I was terrified that after going through all of that, I STILL wouldn’t be able to go to the restroom, I didn’t push my button unless I was dying.

The nurses called my doctor – who was off for the holidays, so they called the doctor on call, who didn’t know me and who took forever to respond and the stuff they gave me? Didn’t even work that great; I still ended up pushing my pain button, but at least it finally gave me some relief.

I spent the entire day after surgery trying to find my comfort level. It was a balance act between tolerable and dying. One of the worst parts was getting up and moving around. UGH. It was hard. My body was stiff and my staples felt tight and sharp, but I made the effort. In fact, I spent a good deal of my energy on fooling the nurses into thinking I was doing better than I really was.

I was on a mission to get home as quickly as possible and I knew the only way to make that happen was to push myself – and I did indeed push myself and it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.

I laid in my bed Christmas Eve day and tried not to think of my guys at a family get together having fun. Kevin’s family is literally spread all over the world and everyone had made it back for Christmas – everyone was there, except for me. I called Kevin and I could hear them having fun in the background, they were just finishing up the gift exchange game, and I tried not to cry.

By the time evening rolled around, the hospital floored had cleared out. I slowly walked around the floor and several of the rooms were completely empty. There was nary an alarm going off. The phones were silent. Everything was quiet. It was both peaceful and depressing.

The hospital is no place to be during the holidays.

I was in bed Christmas Eve when I heard singing. It was “O Holy Night” and it was being sung by a group of volunteers that were walking the hallways singing Christmas Carols. It was absolutely beautiful and the thought of those kind people, sacrificing their time to volunteer and cheer people up at the hospital with their songs still makes me cry. It was wonderful.

My guys came up to see me that night and we all sat around and watched old Christmas movies on TV. My room mate had left by that time so we had the room to ourselves. It was cozy, if not a little sad. I felt really bad for the boys – we had all decided to wait to do Christmas when I got home and I knew Christmas day would be just as depressing for them as it would be for me, too.

(… to be continued)

So. I’m in the hospital right now. I’m physically comfortable (somewhat) for the first time in a few months – I can’t tell you what a relief THAT is. (Don’t ever take your physical comfort for granted, trust me).

I’ll tell you right now that this post is going to be too much information, so I apologize in advance if it makes you cringe. But this is what is going on with me and maybe it’ll help someone in a similar situation.

It all began last week … about Tuesday, I think. I’ve mentioned several times on this blog before that I’ve had intestinal issues on and off for several years now. I usually just ride out the discomfort until things get back to normal.

I had every intention of riding this last bout out too, but this last bout was unusual in that it was a lot more painful and it just wouldn’t go away.

Finally, I couldn’t handle the pain anymore – it was becoming unbearable. The question was – walk-in clinic, or the ER?

Kevin and I weighed our options, talked it over and then finally decided to go to the walk-in clinic thinking if it was easily fixable I would get in and out A LOT quicker and it would be A LOT cheaper than if I went to the hospital.

I was seen right away. I told them that I was feeling a lot of painful pressure in my abdomen and that I hadn’t had a bowel movement in several days. My stomach was also severely distended – I looked six months pregnant, that’s how bad it was.

In fact, if I hadn’t been feeling so bad, it would have amused me the number of times people kept asking me, “Are you SURE you’re not pregnant?” Because honestly, I really looked it.

The doctor treated me with indifference. He wasn’t rude, just sort of bored and indifferent. I didn’t care at that point, I just wanted relief. They did an x-ray, then about five minutes later, wanted to do another x-ray.

Kevin had to take off, he was meeting his landlord for his new office (more on that in another post), but we both knew if they wanted to take another x-ray, this wasn’t as cut and dried as they thought it was.

I went back to the exam room and in five minutes, they called for me. The doctor that saw me was standing with another doctor and both were shaking their heads and whispering while looking at what I presumed were my x-rays.

I started to get nervous.

They showed me my x-rays and I’ll tell ya folks, I could tell they were a mess the moment I laid eyes on them. I had a TON of packed fecal matter along with MASSIVE gas bubbles completely clogging my large intestine.

It didn’t look good.

The doctor was no longer bored and indifferent, he was quite serious and a bit more animated. He told me they didn’t have the equipment necessary to help there and that he recommended I go to the ER as in NOW.

They burned copies of the x-rays onto a disk and I left.

I went home. I wasn’t going to no stinkin’ hospital!

HA! Just kidding. I’m stubborn but not stupid.

I told the boys what was going on (Kevin was still at his meeting – we had taken separate cars), then started packing an overnight case (or in my case, a loaded up a Wal-Mart bag), just in case I had to stay overnight. I called Kevin and waited for him to come home so he could drive me to the ER.

The clinic had called ahead so the hospital was expecting me. That was nice as I didn’t have to wait six hours to be seen (actually, in all fairness, the ER wasn’t even that busy so I was able to get in right away anyway).

They showed me to a room, had me strip down and don the humiliating hospital gown and gave me an iodine drink to prep me for the CT scan. (The iodine marks a path and makes reading a CT scan easier).

After waiting an hour after drinking the iodine, they wheeled me down for the scan.

Since they were taking a good look at my intestines, they had to inject more dye into my, erhm, lady hole while I laid on my back with my arms over my head. I was slid into the machine and told to hold my breath while they took some pictures. After that was done, I was wheeled back to my room in the ER to await the results.

About another hour later (WHY does everything take so long in the hospital), the ER doctor came in to tell me they were going to send me home. He said some other things but honestly, I was so shocked that they were going to send me home that I sort of tuned out the rest of what he was saying.

Fortunately, another doctor had also looked at my CT scans and he noticed that not only was my large intestine overly swollen, but that it also narrowed at one point and they were concerned about that narrowing.

He vetoed the other doctor’s orders and they admitted me.

(Kevin and I STILL can’t believe that doctor was going to send us home. I mean .. HELLO?!? I’m six months pregnant and writhing in pain, SOMETHING is wrong with this picture, dude!)

My room was cramped and I had a roommate. She was recovering from her own surgery (she had had to have 10 inches of her intestine removed due to infection!) and was on the road to recovery. I’m afraid I wasn’t a very good roommate – I was in so much pain I couldn’t think straight let alone carry on a conversation. They finally gave me some morphine and OMG, I was pain free and actually comfortable for the first time in WEEKS. I immediately went to sleep. I wasn’t allowed to drink or eat anything and only relied on ice chips to quench my thirst.

The doctor came in and told me that they were going to have to do a colonoscopy so they could get a better look at the narrowing in my intestine. They wheeled me down to do the procedure.

I was nervous, but honestly, I just wanted them to fix whatever was going on with me – screw being embarrassed about a roomful of strangers getting a good look at my lady hole.

And as if getting a colonoscopy wasn’t embarrassing enough, I recognized one of the nurses – she had helped Kevin when he was in the hospital recovering from his motorcycle accident. She didn’t recognize me at first, but when I told her about Kevin, she remembered him and we chit-chatted for a little while.

And the whole time I was thinking, “THIS ISN’T AWKWARD. Nope, not at all.”

They had me lay on my side, injected some sleepy juice into my IV and before I could ask her what it was, I was out. The next thing I remember I was waking up in my room and seeing Kevin sitting in the chair opposite the bed. I remember saying, “Oh look! I’m back in my room,” but Kevin said I told him about seeing that nurse that had taken care of him about five times before that – I have no recollection of doing that. He said that I would recount the story, then pause for a few minutes, and then repeat the story again. He said the last time I told him about seeing the nurse, he responded with a, “Yeah, I know,” and I acted totally surprised that he knew the outcome of the story and said, “how did you know that!”

I bet my roommate had a good laugh.

I also apparently sang, “Born Free!”

I think he’s lying about that part, but who knows, I WAS grateful that I wasn’t feeling any more pressure, that’s for sure.

In addition to sucking out the gas and cleaning out as much of the fecal matter than he could, they found that my intestine had twisted. The doctor illustrated it by comparing it to one of the long balloons that party clowns use to make party animals out of it – you know, that twist in the animals. He opened up the twist, put in a stint and that was going to serve as my short-term solution until we could schedule a time I could come back in to get that twisted part cut out of my intestine and they would sew the portions back together again.

I was sort of relieved that it was something physical and simply not a diet issue, which would have been a little harder to control, I’m sure. I was also relieved to find out that it wasn’t a tumor or anything more serious as well.

They wouldn’t give me any more morphine. Apparently, my blood pressure went up while I was on it and they thought there was some correlation between the morphine and the pressure, so they gave me some sort of pain killer with Benedryl in it. It made me extremely sleepy and I slept like the dead for two hours before waking up with a headache from hell.

I knew the headache was either from my sinuses or a caffeine withdrawal (because I hadn’t had any coffee in a few days). But the staff wouldn’t give me anything but extra-strength Tylenol which did absolutely nothing for my headache and it went on so long that I did what I always do when I don’t get a handle on my headaches – I vomited. Multiple times. Only they were dry heaves because I had absolutely nothing in my stomach, not even water.

It was painful and quite frustrating, but at least it would serve to relieve the pressure from my head for a little while before the cycle started all over again.

To say I had a rough night that first night would be putting it mildly.

Finally I had had enough. I asked Kevin to bring me some Aleve D from home and I took it. (I refused to take anymore of the Benedryl and the blood thinner they kept INSISTING was necessary and which I kept INSISTING was not [I had only been in bed for a day, I couldn’t possibly have been a blood clot risk at that point] and since I wasn’t on any other medications, I knew it would be safe to take the Aleve).

The nurses were NOT happy with me when they found out I had taken an Aleve. They hurriedly told the doctor who “approved” the medicine and they were able to add it to the orders. I know I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I was desperate and what sort of hospital doesn’t carry something with Pseudoephedrine – I mean seriously).

Even though the Aleve made my headache less intense, it didn’t get rid of it and I continued to vomit. I then knew it had to be caffeine withdrawal and I took a couple of Excedrin Migraine, again knowing that I wasn’t taking any other sort of complicated medications that it would have an adverse reaction to.

It worked. My headache from hell FINALLY went away.

I never told the nurses about taking the Excedrin. And I know, I sort of suck as a patient – refusing medicines I don’t think I need (they kept trying to give me anti-nausea medicine, too – which didn’t work, I might add) and taking unauthorized medicines, but dang it people, I know my body and what it needs. Again, I wouldn’t have done any of that if I had been on anything with an unpronounceable name without first checking with the nurses.

I had to stay another night. I’m not sure why, if you want the truth, but before they would release me the next day, I had had to have a bowel movement – which I couldn’t do. I just couldn’t do it. Nothing would come out.

They made me drink a large bottle of some sickly sweet magnesium concoction, which after waiting for an hour didn’t produce anything. Then I had to have an enema – clear. Then they made me take some laxatives – no go. And last but not least, they made me drink prune juice followed by a hot tea.

Still … nothing. I did produce clear muscusy-looking stuff, but no poo. Finally, they gave up on me and discharged me. They were supposed to send someone to me and wheel me out, but I saw Kevin drive up to pick me up and I got impatient and walked out.

I KNOW! I’m a terrible patient!!

Monday night, Jazz had his Christmas, oops, excuse me, HOLIDAY concert at school. I wanted to go, but I was physically MISERABLE! I had so much stuff in me and SO MUCH PRESSURE that I seriously thought I was going to explode (and coincidentally, nothing ever came out). However, I decided to go at the last minute and I’m glad I did. He played a solo in one of the songs and when it was over he made an effort to find me, Kevin and Dude in the crowd and I gave him a big thumbs up. He smiled and that moment was worth all of the physical discomfort.

I felt a little better on Tuesday – all of that stuff had worked it’s way through my system, but by Tuesday night, I was doubled over in pain once again. I still hadn’t had a BM or had passed any gas and I was in serious pain.

Kevin suggested I use a heating pad, which helped A LOT, but only if I kept it there, which meant I spent most of the day Tuesday flat on my back with a heating pad pressed to my belly.

We talked about going back to the doctor on Wednesday but he left the ultimate decision up to me.

Tuesday was another rough day and we decided I really needed to go back to the ER. I had called the office of the doctor who had worked on me in the hospital, but they just told me that if I was having difficulty, to go back to the ER.

So, that’s what we did.

Kevin dropped me off at 7:30 this morning and then left to take the boys to school and get some stuff done.

They took more x-rays of me, saw that my x-rays looked exactly as they had when I was admitted the first time and promptly admitted me. They were telling me that the poo in my intestines (and there was still a significant amount) had likely impacted, which meant they had attached to my intestinal wall.

NOT GOOD.

They promptly gave me another colonoscopy, only it wasn’t a colonoscopy, it was a flexi-scope which in essence is a little more detailed than a colonoscopy and inserted a rectal tube to help drain the BM and expel the gas. (See? TMI!!!)

So, here I sit. In my new hospital room (which I like better because it’s a bit bigger than my last one) watching TV with my new roomie, who is a sweet, spunky old woman, waiting to see the doctor so I can find out when my surgery will be scheduled.

Because apparently, they aren’t releasing me this time until this problem has been fixed. I’ve sort of reached emergency status, I guess.

It doesn’t sound like it’s going to be THAT big of a deal, but you know any surgery shouldn’t be taken lightly. I’m really bummed that it looks like I will likely be in the hospital over Christmas but I’m optimistic, if they perform the surgery tomorrow, maybe I can go home Friday night??

We’ll see.

At any rate, we may have to postpone Christmas until I get home. But my guys are cool with that – they will just be relieved to see me back to normal and not doubled over with pain.

So. I’m BACK in the hospital right now but BACK on the road to getting better.

Finally – my intestinal issues will FINALLY be resolved. Thank God.

UPDATED: I just talked to the doctor – I’m scheduled to have surgery tomorrow around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. Since this is an emergency and they haven’t had a chance to completely clean me out, they will have to cut a little more than they had anticipated, which means it will take me a little longer to recover. They will not release me until I’ve had a BM and everything seems to be back to normal which means I likely won’t get to go home until next Tuesday!!! I’m going to miss Christmas!! I can’t tell you how bummed about this I am! My guys want to postpone Christmas until I get home, but we might celebrate in my room if my roomie is gone by then, we’ll see. At any rate, this is going to be a really weird holiday, that’s for sure. Wah!