one of our cats, gracie, (we have 5) has been very sick, and between running back and forth with mom to the vet, going back up and down to albany for follow up visits, i've been a bit tired. will finish posting the 'hospital' portion soon. thank you all for love, support, and prayers. and if you could keep gracie in your thoughts, it would be greatly appreciated.
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Friday, October 21, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Rule #1: Don't let a resident from Plastics put on your ileo bag
Morning. Awake again. But can I really consider it being awake if I didn't truly get any sleep? See the, horrid thing about being in the hospital is the fact that you really don't get any deep, restful sleep. At all. The blood draws happen at 2am. Yes folks, that's right, 2am. All the lights pop on and they torture you to try to find a remaining vein that may or may not produce a modicum of blood to get the levels they need to measure. This is amidst the blood pressure, temperature, and pulse oxygen measurements which happen every 2 hours or so? And just when you finally doze back off, the i.v. lines start beeping incessantly. As dawn finally breaks and my heavy eyes can't stand staying open anymore, I pass out for a minute. And again, I do mean a minute because between 6 and 7am, the residents for the doctors begin rounding, again turning on all of the lights, each of them taking a turn asking you the same questions over and over, each one wanting to examine you to see the body part in which they soon will be specializing. When you don't know if the doctors will be by later, your tired brain scrambles to try to remember the questions you want to ask, knowing if you forget to mention anything, you won't get another chance until the next overly-tired morning rounds. They spend between sixty seconds and three minutes, and lights go out again. Soon, the sun is blazing through the window, the food cart, rattling, is being pushed through the hallway, and your breakfast of fairly tasteless mass produced food is dropped off, stinking up your room with smells of weak coffee in plastic mugs, rubbery eggs, and tasteless, soggy pancakes. Is it any wonder people recover better and faster at home than in the hospital?
But I digress. Upon "waking" on day three, I'm still in pain and in the spinal unit. Adam is my daytime nurse again, which makes me happy. I keep tripping over myself apologizing for the prior day's pain and complaints that were lodged. He asks how my night went, and I tell him the usual, crappy and tiring and somewhat painful. He asks if there is anything he can do to ease my pain, and I quip "get me out of this bed...not to walk, not to look out the window. Just get me back in my old air bed that they forcibly took away." I absolutely HATE sand right now. This bed has me folded in half like a taco, and my back is screaming for something hard to be underneath it. Like a rock. Or a plank of wood. Or ANYTHING that could possibly give my straining, aching back muscles a rest. Adam makes a call. And a second call. And about 3 hours later, blissfully, my air bed is re-delivered to me, and for the first time in three days I'm out of the sand and back on air. As per the agreement I made with Adam, I did half a lap around the floor and then got back in the room and into my happy happy air bed. Did I mention happy? Oh, happy bed.
It still hurt a ton to move, and I could barely shuffle my feet, but having the ability to not be totally flat on my back, to be able to roll to my side, to find a comfortable position, to get out of bed seemed like such a luxury. I couldn't have been happier to have that bed, and with that bed came a new room and new roommate. Okay, take away one of the 'happy' from before. As stellar as the bed was, the new roommate definitely made things a bit more difficult. But I'll get to that later.
Being up and moving meant they determined that I could now eat 'clears' for dinner--no longer was I npo, but was allowed to consume some broth, or Italian ice, or juice for dinner. I passed on it. Anyone who knows me knows I don't like soup broth on a good day, let alone when I've had nothing in my system for 3 days.
One thing I didn't bank on with the new bed though, and the moving around, was the fact that my bag wouldn't keep holding. I guess the first tip-off was the overly excited resident from plastics who very proudly exclaimed to her whole group of residents no less than 3 times "I put on her ileostomy bag!!" Well, folks, rule #1: Don't let a resident from Plastics put on your ileo bag. It may look aesthetically pleasing, but it won't hold up worth a darn. Larry, my nighttime nurse, sure learned that one quickly. He and Shelby quickly got a lesson in How to Change an Ileostomy on the Fly 101.....
But I digress. Upon "waking" on day three, I'm still in pain and in the spinal unit. Adam is my daytime nurse again, which makes me happy. I keep tripping over myself apologizing for the prior day's pain and complaints that were lodged. He asks how my night went, and I tell him the usual, crappy and tiring and somewhat painful. He asks if there is anything he can do to ease my pain, and I quip "get me out of this bed...not to walk, not to look out the window. Just get me back in my old air bed that they forcibly took away." I absolutely HATE sand right now. This bed has me folded in half like a taco, and my back is screaming for something hard to be underneath it. Like a rock. Or a plank of wood. Or ANYTHING that could possibly give my straining, aching back muscles a rest. Adam makes a call. And a second call. And about 3 hours later, blissfully, my air bed is re-delivered to me, and for the first time in three days I'm out of the sand and back on air. As per the agreement I made with Adam, I did half a lap around the floor and then got back in the room and into my happy happy air bed. Did I mention happy? Oh, happy bed.
It still hurt a ton to move, and I could barely shuffle my feet, but having the ability to not be totally flat on my back, to be able to roll to my side, to find a comfortable position, to get out of bed seemed like such a luxury. I couldn't have been happier to have that bed, and with that bed came a new room and new roommate. Okay, take away one of the 'happy' from before. As stellar as the bed was, the new roommate definitely made things a bit more difficult. But I'll get to that later.
Being up and moving meant they determined that I could now eat 'clears' for dinner--no longer was I npo, but was allowed to consume some broth, or Italian ice, or juice for dinner. I passed on it. Anyone who knows me knows I don't like soup broth on a good day, let alone when I've had nothing in my system for 3 days.
One thing I didn't bank on with the new bed though, and the moving around, was the fact that my bag wouldn't keep holding. I guess the first tip-off was the overly excited resident from plastics who very proudly exclaimed to her whole group of residents no less than 3 times "I put on her ileostomy bag!!" Well, folks, rule #1: Don't let a resident from Plastics put on your ileo bag. It may look aesthetically pleasing, but it won't hold up worth a darn. Larry, my nighttime nurse, sure learned that one quickly. He and Shelby quickly got a lesson in How to Change an Ileostomy on the Fly 101.....
Friday, October 7, 2011
Q-Tips are a girl's best friend
Pain. Oh, the pain. Upon waking on day two, I was in pain. The oh so special bed was proving to wreak havoc on my back. Though it sounded like it would be a lovely and comfortable thing, and maybe it would be if you had a foot infection and weren't cut open, for an abdominal patient it killed. I'm cut from about an inch above my belly button down to my pelvic bone on the front, with muscles that have been detached and rearranged. I'm also cut on the tush. This bed is very similar to a water bed in its fluidity, and thereby provided absolutely no support for my back. Though I had an abdominal binder on (think large, Velcro girdle) it didn't do much to support me. The binder did a great job of keeping my incision together but wasn't stiff enough on my back. The bed allowed me to sink so far down in the middle that I couldn't get comfortable. I was flat on my back. As in flat. Staring at the ceiling. No pillow. No way to roll, prop, even move. To make matters worse, my 'pain button' aka the pcs, which is supposed to give me a jolt of the phentanol, doesn't appear to be working. I press it, and continue to feel the pain getting worse.
Barbara and Adam were my daytime nurses. Barbara asked me to roll over to look at my incision on the backside, and i broke down in tears. Not only was the pain getting worse and worse, but I couldn't move. I felt totally immobile. She kept arguing with me and I flat out refused. She called down to the surgical unit to see if there was a way to get me to do it, and a representative came up and said I didn't have to if I didn't feel up to it. I kept trying to convey to them that it wasn't a matter of me being belligerent, but if they could get me in a NORMAL bed and get my intensifying pain under control, that I'd roll over and show them. They tried a bolus of the phentanol, which did absolutely nothing. When Barbara and Adam realized that I wasn't just being difficult, they called down for the pain team to see if there was any way to better manage my pain. For five hours I laid in the bed, unable to move, unable to do much of anything except whimper. I was brought a basin and soap so I could get washed up. I just stared in disbelief. If I can't move, can't roll, and am in a severe amount of pain, do I REALLY care if my skin smells pretty?
Well, 5 hours later, the pain team arrived and adjusted the dose of ketamine. I went from being in extreme pain to in very little within 2 minutes. Amazing. I became a completely compliant. Well, not completely, since I still was having a dickens of a time trying to roll over. And since I was cleared of having to roll over until I was ready, I pretty much passed back out.
I woke a short time later realizing I wasn't breathing too well. All along, I was in a panic over breathing and the risk of vomiting, coughing, all of it. Should any of that happen, I couldn't manage to lift my body up enough to clear my mouth or throat. It's such a crappy feeling. To help me from feeling like I was going to drown in bodily fluids, I asked Mom to pass me my Q-Tips. I can't extol their praise enough. See, one thing I don't think patients realize is you lose your ability to blow your nose when you're 1), cut open and 2), flat on your back. Diamonds hold nothing over Q-Tips for me. I was able to finagle the Q-Tips enough to clear my nose. Truly, they are a girl's best friend. Well, at least this girl. Or any other ones who have been cut open for any particular reason. Passing back out and breathing better with my oxygen still up my nose, it felt good to be pain free, if only for a few hours.....
Barbara and Adam were my daytime nurses. Barbara asked me to roll over to look at my incision on the backside, and i broke down in tears. Not only was the pain getting worse and worse, but I couldn't move. I felt totally immobile. She kept arguing with me and I flat out refused. She called down to the surgical unit to see if there was a way to get me to do it, and a representative came up and said I didn't have to if I didn't feel up to it. I kept trying to convey to them that it wasn't a matter of me being belligerent, but if they could get me in a NORMAL bed and get my intensifying pain under control, that I'd roll over and show them. They tried a bolus of the phentanol, which did absolutely nothing. When Barbara and Adam realized that I wasn't just being difficult, they called down for the pain team to see if there was any way to better manage my pain. For five hours I laid in the bed, unable to move, unable to do much of anything except whimper. I was brought a basin and soap so I could get washed up. I just stared in disbelief. If I can't move, can't roll, and am in a severe amount of pain, do I REALLY care if my skin smells pretty?
Well, 5 hours later, the pain team arrived and adjusted the dose of ketamine. I went from being in extreme pain to in very little within 2 minutes. Amazing. I became a completely compliant. Well, not completely, since I still was having a dickens of a time trying to roll over. And since I was cleared of having to roll over until I was ready, I pretty much passed back out.
I woke a short time later realizing I wasn't breathing too well. All along, I was in a panic over breathing and the risk of vomiting, coughing, all of it. Should any of that happen, I couldn't manage to lift my body up enough to clear my mouth or throat. It's such a crappy feeling. To help me from feeling like I was going to drown in bodily fluids, I asked Mom to pass me my Q-Tips. I can't extol their praise enough. See, one thing I don't think patients realize is you lose your ability to blow your nose when you're 1), cut open and 2), flat on your back. Diamonds hold nothing over Q-Tips for me. I was able to finagle the Q-Tips enough to clear my nose. Truly, they are a girl's best friend. Well, at least this girl. Or any other ones who have been cut open for any particular reason. Passing back out and breathing better with my oxygen still up my nose, it felt good to be pain free, if only for a few hours.....
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Like the beach, only worse
Eyes fluttered open. Pain. Which means I'm alive. But I'm in pain and immobile and flat on my back. I lay there in recovery, not moving, waiting for a nurse to come over. She asks me what my pain level is, and I tell her it's a 9. She says that's too high and I have to wait for it to come down. Eyes close again.
I wake, not sure how much longer later. I notice I have not one but two i.v.s, one in my right hand and one on my left arm. The nurse stops by again, asks my pain level. I again, tell her it's a 9. She again tells me it's too high, though she informs me that my hair looks amazing. I'm not kidding. She tells me that it looks like I could walk out and go to a club, and that hair never looks that good post op. Not caring, I pass back out.
When I wake the third time, I again get seen by the nurse. I ask how soon I can get out of recovery and up to my room to see my family, and she says, "..when your pain level decreases," at which point she asks it. I tell her it's a 6 (it was still a 9) just so I could get transferred up to a room. She calls for transport, and I'm on the move.
As I get wheeled on my bed into the elevator, I notice we are headed to the fifth floor. Normally I've been on the second floor when I've had surgery with Dr. Lee, and I'm not quite sure why we're headed that much further up. Once on the floor, I'm wheeled into a room much like Surgical Step Down at Vassar, with a nurses station in the center, 24 hour care, and 5 or 6 bed slots. As I'm being wheeled in the door, I feel my catheter bag get caught on the door, so I let out a bit of a yelp. The guy wheeling me asks what's going on, and I told him, and he rearranges my bed and tells me not to worry, that it wouldn't really have pulled out. Easy for him to say, he didn't feel the tug of the line as it got caught on the door frame. But I got placed into slot 4, and soon thereafter, in walk Mom, Dad, Aunt Donna, and Joe. What a welcome sight.
All ask how I'm doing, and are happy to see I've come out of it okay. I ask where I am, and I'm told by my nurse Rich that I'm in the spinal trauma unit. Normally if I was on a different pain medication, I'd be on a different floor, but since they had me on ketamine and phentanol, the ketamine had to have continuous monitoring for the first 24 hours that it's being put into my veins. My 'neighbor' in bed slot #5 is Amish. His parents came in from Michigan because of his spinal injury. He was a new father, and his wife was there with their 2 week old baby. Apparently, his horse acted up and he ended up having an accident and broke the tendons/ligaments in his neck, and if I remember correctly, he broke his back as well, so again, when everyone thinks I've gone through the ringer, remember him in prayer. He's looking at a 6 month recovery with a brand new baby and young wife. He'll have some obstacle to overcome. His family took him home after only 48 hours because his mom said he'd recover better at home, and I have no doubt she's correct.
So Mom tells me my surgery went well. It was shorter than anticipated because, well, it ended up being a different surgery than originally anticipated. Dr. Polynice had drawn a diagram thingie to show Mom and Dad what happened instead of what was planned. Originally, I was supposed to have the gracilis muscle taken from my thigh, but when Dr. Lee opened me up, they solved the answer to one of the problems I've been having. Wait for it, wait for it.....my uterus had tipped over!!!!! Yes, that is worthy of five exclamation points. Apparently, where my large intestine used to be was a large empty void (kind of like my head on most nights) and my uterus decided to be lazy and take a nice long nap. It laid down in the hole where my intestine used to be and was kinda stuck to the pelvic floor next to the sinus tract that needed to be removed. When Dr. Polynice saw this, he realized it needed to be propped back up, and my gracilis muscles weren't going to be sufficient enough to do it, so they took one of my abdominal muscles instead. Everyone has two rectus abdominus muscles, better known as the 6 pack muscles. The left one of mine (the side under my heart) helps to support my stoma, so they detached the right hand one at the top and flipped it upside down, threading it behind my uterus, and eventually stuffing it down into the sinus tract area of the rectal spot that wasn't healing. Technically, they killed two birds with one stone, or rather, filled two holes with one muscle. Dr. Polynice filled the now missing muscle space on the right side of my abdomen with some sterilized pork tissue stuff. Does this mean when I sweat I'll smell like bacon? Boy, that'll get me a husband in no time! And the further good news in all of this? My value for black market spare body parts has decreased that much more.
Okay, so back to post op. Within five minutes of being in the room and getting settled, they bring in a new bed, but it's not just any bed. Oh no, it's some special fancy schmancy bed that all of the nursing staff seems to be in envy over for me. Apparently, the bed is called a cavillon or something like that, and it's filled with sand and is hard as a rock, but the minute they plug it in, it becomes like a sandstorm under your body, 'gently cradling it and promoting healing.' They told me it's like experiencing a water bed. I protested being transferred, but they insisted and before too many more minutes had passed, a moving crew had passed me from my air bed into this sand bed. I was in too much pain to notice, but soon I'd find out. The bed was like the beach, only worse....
I wake, not sure how much longer later. I notice I have not one but two i.v.s, one in my right hand and one on my left arm. The nurse stops by again, asks my pain level. I again, tell her it's a 9. She again tells me it's too high, though she informs me that my hair looks amazing. I'm not kidding. She tells me that it looks like I could walk out and go to a club, and that hair never looks that good post op. Not caring, I pass back out.
When I wake the third time, I again get seen by the nurse. I ask how soon I can get out of recovery and up to my room to see my family, and she says, "..when your pain level decreases," at which point she asks it. I tell her it's a 6 (it was still a 9) just so I could get transferred up to a room. She calls for transport, and I'm on the move.
As I get wheeled on my bed into the elevator, I notice we are headed to the fifth floor. Normally I've been on the second floor when I've had surgery with Dr. Lee, and I'm not quite sure why we're headed that much further up. Once on the floor, I'm wheeled into a room much like Surgical Step Down at Vassar, with a nurses station in the center, 24 hour care, and 5 or 6 bed slots. As I'm being wheeled in the door, I feel my catheter bag get caught on the door, so I let out a bit of a yelp. The guy wheeling me asks what's going on, and I told him, and he rearranges my bed and tells me not to worry, that it wouldn't really have pulled out. Easy for him to say, he didn't feel the tug of the line as it got caught on the door frame. But I got placed into slot 4, and soon thereafter, in walk Mom, Dad, Aunt Donna, and Joe. What a welcome sight.
All ask how I'm doing, and are happy to see I've come out of it okay. I ask where I am, and I'm told by my nurse Rich that I'm in the spinal trauma unit. Normally if I was on a different pain medication, I'd be on a different floor, but since they had me on ketamine and phentanol, the ketamine had to have continuous monitoring for the first 24 hours that it's being put into my veins. My 'neighbor' in bed slot #5 is Amish. His parents came in from Michigan because of his spinal injury. He was a new father, and his wife was there with their 2 week old baby. Apparently, his horse acted up and he ended up having an accident and broke the tendons/ligaments in his neck, and if I remember correctly, he broke his back as well, so again, when everyone thinks I've gone through the ringer, remember him in prayer. He's looking at a 6 month recovery with a brand new baby and young wife. He'll have some obstacle to overcome. His family took him home after only 48 hours because his mom said he'd recover better at home, and I have no doubt she's correct.
So Mom tells me my surgery went well. It was shorter than anticipated because, well, it ended up being a different surgery than originally anticipated. Dr. Polynice had drawn a diagram thingie to show Mom and Dad what happened instead of what was planned. Originally, I was supposed to have the gracilis muscle taken from my thigh, but when Dr. Lee opened me up, they solved the answer to one of the problems I've been having. Wait for it, wait for it.....my uterus had tipped over!!!!! Yes, that is worthy of five exclamation points. Apparently, where my large intestine used to be was a large empty void (kind of like my head on most nights) and my uterus decided to be lazy and take a nice long nap. It laid down in the hole where my intestine used to be and was kinda stuck to the pelvic floor next to the sinus tract that needed to be removed. When Dr. Polynice saw this, he realized it needed to be propped back up, and my gracilis muscles weren't going to be sufficient enough to do it, so they took one of my abdominal muscles instead. Everyone has two rectus abdominus muscles, better known as the 6 pack muscles. The left one of mine (the side under my heart) helps to support my stoma, so they detached the right hand one at the top and flipped it upside down, threading it behind my uterus, and eventually stuffing it down into the sinus tract area of the rectal spot that wasn't healing. Technically, they killed two birds with one stone, or rather, filled two holes with one muscle. Dr. Polynice filled the now missing muscle space on the right side of my abdomen with some sterilized pork tissue stuff. Does this mean when I sweat I'll smell like bacon? Boy, that'll get me a husband in no time! And the further good news in all of this? My value for black market spare body parts has decreased that much more.
Okay, so back to post op. Within five minutes of being in the room and getting settled, they bring in a new bed, but it's not just any bed. Oh no, it's some special fancy schmancy bed that all of the nursing staff seems to be in envy over for me. Apparently, the bed is called a cavillon or something like that, and it's filled with sand and is hard as a rock, but the minute they plug it in, it becomes like a sandstorm under your body, 'gently cradling it and promoting healing.' They told me it's like experiencing a water bed. I protested being transferred, but they insisted and before too many more minutes had passed, a moving crew had passed me from my air bed into this sand bed. I was in too much pain to notice, but soon I'd find out. The bed was like the beach, only worse....
Friday, September 30, 2011
It looked like a bug's eye....
Okay. Wow. Talk about a whirlwind of a week. And some stunning alliteration. But I digress.....
So morning of surgery, we had to leave at 4am, and considering I went to bed around 245am, I was just a tad bit sleepy, and yet on the two hour ride up to Albany, I don't remember sleeping even a minute. I think my already jumpy nerves were getting the best of me. My mouth, already dry since after midnight is NPO (nothing to eat or drink, including gum, tooth brushing, etc), is like cotton. We get there and dad drops mom and me off to go get started in the admission processing. We go in, get checked in, and I get taken back into the back to start filling out the medical history stuff. Then they bring in the nurse to start my i.v. to run the sleepy drugs that are normally given pre-surgery. As anticipated, it hurt like the dickens and my vein blows. The nurse goes back and gets the 'sure thing,' a woman who is skilled at getting veins of those who are like me. The woman comes over, says 'I've had you before, right?' and I said 'yup, so hopefully you'll be able to get it.' Yeah. Didn't happen. So my already frayed nerves at this point are completely shot and I burst into tears. For me, this was a worst case scenario. I've never been this on edge prior to surgery, and when my veins aren't even able to be gotten by the expert who has gotten them before, it ups the panic tenfold. They tell me that they aren't going to run the i.v. until I'm under with the gas anesthesia. Mom and Dad pray over me, and I'm wheeled away.
I've never been in the operating room fully awake. Never. I'm usually on the sleepy time i.v. stuff and passed out drooling by the time I'm wheeled away. It was such a sense of panic to be back there, flat on my back, looking up and around at the massive sterility that is the OR. The light overhead has to be a minimum of three feet in diameter, made up of at least (or so it seemed) 100 little lights that I knew would soon be peering down into my abdomen, illuminating all for my surgeons to see. I swear, it looked like a bug's eye. And in the midst of my soaking up of my surroundings, Dr. Lee walks over. Greets me with a good morning and how things have been going. I told him about the increased issues with my uterus, and he assures me he'll take a look and take good care of me, at which time I break down crying again. The look on Dr. Lee's face scared me. He asked why, I told him of my feelings, my fears with this surgery, and asked him to bring me through it all. He reassured me that I was in good hands with both him and Dr. Polynice and that I'd be fine. Crying. To my surgeon. And in the biggest panic you can imagine. Dr. Polynice also walks in, Dr. Lee grabs him, pulls him aside, briefs him on my lack on emotional stability, and he also came over and reassured me everything would be fine.
Still sniffling, I laid back down on the gurney and was strapped down, oxygen mask over my face. I could hear everyone still talking, hear them say to start the gas through the mask. Unable to move, gas started getting pumped through. I don't have many fears in life, but it was scary to sense that I was losing oxygen and it was being replaced by something that was making me feel like I was suffocating. And while breathing as deeply as being told, I went under.....
So morning of surgery, we had to leave at 4am, and considering I went to bed around 245am, I was just a tad bit sleepy, and yet on the two hour ride up to Albany, I don't remember sleeping even a minute. I think my already jumpy nerves were getting the best of me. My mouth, already dry since after midnight is NPO (nothing to eat or drink, including gum, tooth brushing, etc), is like cotton. We get there and dad drops mom and me off to go get started in the admission processing. We go in, get checked in, and I get taken back into the back to start filling out the medical history stuff. Then they bring in the nurse to start my i.v. to run the sleepy drugs that are normally given pre-surgery. As anticipated, it hurt like the dickens and my vein blows. The nurse goes back and gets the 'sure thing,' a woman who is skilled at getting veins of those who are like me. The woman comes over, says 'I've had you before, right?' and I said 'yup, so hopefully you'll be able to get it.' Yeah. Didn't happen. So my already frayed nerves at this point are completely shot and I burst into tears. For me, this was a worst case scenario. I've never been this on edge prior to surgery, and when my veins aren't even able to be gotten by the expert who has gotten them before, it ups the panic tenfold. They tell me that they aren't going to run the i.v. until I'm under with the gas anesthesia. Mom and Dad pray over me, and I'm wheeled away.
I've never been in the operating room fully awake. Never. I'm usually on the sleepy time i.v. stuff and passed out drooling by the time I'm wheeled away. It was such a sense of panic to be back there, flat on my back, looking up and around at the massive sterility that is the OR. The light overhead has to be a minimum of three feet in diameter, made up of at least (or so it seemed) 100 little lights that I knew would soon be peering down into my abdomen, illuminating all for my surgeons to see. I swear, it looked like a bug's eye. And in the midst of my soaking up of my surroundings, Dr. Lee walks over. Greets me with a good morning and how things have been going. I told him about the increased issues with my uterus, and he assures me he'll take a look and take good care of me, at which time I break down crying again. The look on Dr. Lee's face scared me. He asked why, I told him of my feelings, my fears with this surgery, and asked him to bring me through it all. He reassured me that I was in good hands with both him and Dr. Polynice and that I'd be fine. Crying. To my surgeon. And in the biggest panic you can imagine. Dr. Polynice also walks in, Dr. Lee grabs him, pulls him aside, briefs him on my lack on emotional stability, and he also came over and reassured me everything would be fine.
Still sniffling, I laid back down on the gurney and was strapped down, oxygen mask over my face. I could hear everyone still talking, hear them say to start the gas through the mask. Unable to move, gas started getting pumped through. I don't have many fears in life, but it was scary to sense that I was losing oxygen and it was being replaced by something that was making me feel like I was suffocating. And while breathing as deeply as being told, I went under.....
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
On a serious note....
Hey all,
Surgery is going to be at 730am on Wednesday, September 21. I realize that is 8 hours away from now (when I'm typing this) and that I should probably be in bed, but for any of you that know me, being up at this hour still should come as no surprise. I'm going into this surgery with much trepidation, and I hope it will go well and I'll actually heal this time. I've said to some of you earlier and I'll say it again now, if anything happens and I don't make it, know that I've loved you. I'm hoping that God doesn't think I'm quite done here on earth fixing things/situations/people/churches/weddings/couples/etc and that in no time I'll be back posting.
My intent (ambitious, I know) is to post from the hospital. Mom will have my phone, but seeing as it's a new phone since my last big surgery, I have to give her a tutorial on how to operate it to text, so she'll be sending out a general status update on it. Post surgery, however, I'm hoping to hack into some wifi hotspot (there's a panera now adjacent to the hospital) and do a daily blog update. I can't guarantee anything with much detail or lucidity, but at least I'll try to check in as best I can.
I thank each and every one of you for your thoughts and prayers for me, my parents (especially) and the surgical teams that will be working on me. And with any luck, I'll be back to my sarcastic blogging self in no time, bad jokes and all.
On a positive note, I've signed up for the warrior dash again next year, as has Rich, and it looks like Sarah WILL be joining us this year too. Woohoo!!! Anyone else up for the challenge? Saturday Aug 11 2012, 9am, Windham Mountain.
So I'll end this and get my obligatory pre-op shower (no really, it's a requirement) and head to bed, grab a few hours sleep before we leave at 4am to get up there by 530 for my 730 surgery. Hey, I didn't make the rules :)
Love to all,
B
Surgery is going to be at 730am on Wednesday, September 21. I realize that is 8 hours away from now (when I'm typing this) and that I should probably be in bed, but for any of you that know me, being up at this hour still should come as no surprise. I'm going into this surgery with much trepidation, and I hope it will go well and I'll actually heal this time. I've said to some of you earlier and I'll say it again now, if anything happens and I don't make it, know that I've loved you. I'm hoping that God doesn't think I'm quite done here on earth fixing things/situations/people/churches/weddings/couples/etc and that in no time I'll be back posting.
My intent (ambitious, I know) is to post from the hospital. Mom will have my phone, but seeing as it's a new phone since my last big surgery, I have to give her a tutorial on how to operate it to text, so she'll be sending out a general status update on it. Post surgery, however, I'm hoping to hack into some wifi hotspot (there's a panera now adjacent to the hospital) and do a daily blog update. I can't guarantee anything with much detail or lucidity, but at least I'll try to check in as best I can.
I thank each and every one of you for your thoughts and prayers for me, my parents (especially) and the surgical teams that will be working on me. And with any luck, I'll be back to my sarcastic blogging self in no time, bad jokes and all.
On a positive note, I've signed up for the warrior dash again next year, as has Rich, and it looks like Sarah WILL be joining us this year too. Woohoo!!! Anyone else up for the challenge? Saturday Aug 11 2012, 9am, Windham Mountain.
So I'll end this and get my obligatory pre-op shower (no really, it's a requirement) and head to bed, grab a few hours sleep before we leave at 4am to get up there by 530 for my 730 surgery. Hey, I didn't make the rules :)
Love to all,
B
Monday, September 19, 2011
I've been such a Casper
Wow. Did I just say that? And why did it sound like something out of 'Clueless'?
I've been very absent recently. Life has taken a beyond hectic turn since right before the dash. Many of you (I say that as if I have an abundance of followers, when I know that isn't the case) have wondered if I survived the dash, and if so, how did I do. I shall henceforth update.
Because I'm writing this, it does indeed confirm that I survived the dash but man, was it hard. Mind you, Rich and I trained a whole lot more than I did last year. When I talked Rich into doing it with me, I explained everything that went on last year. What I didn't realize is they'd take last year's event, which I thought was tough, and make it that much harder. This year's dash was less like last year's and more like a mini Tough Mudder, and I wasn't the only one who thought so.
I ended up in a pack of guys who also ran last year's, and we were commiserating about the increase in difficulty level from 2010 to 2011. The organizers of the dash thought it would be so much fun to go even higher on the ski slope this year. And the obstacles from last year? Yeah. They would have been child's play this year. They took the tire run/high knees thing like football players do, and threw in a few rows of junked cars and large trucks to hurdle over in between the 4 rows of tires. And the 4' high walls from last year? This year, they were a bit higher and you had to palm over them with upper body strength and then duck under barbed wire walls, about 4 rows of them. The swamp trudge was complicated by massive logs strung on tension through the middle that you had to hurdle over. There was this teeter totter thingie that was about 15 feet up in the air that you had to go up and then partway down and back up and then fully down, and it had little rungs on it. The problem is that it was only about a 2x6x12 so it wasn't that wide and from the height it was a little daunting if you fell off onto the rocky terrain. Hmmm. What else. Oh, the cargo nets took some crack cocaine and beefed up, they made a horizontal one you had to scramble over which was difficult. There was a forest of tires that swung and hit hard when the person ahead of you pushed them out of the way and you got them on the back swing. And the worst part? Instead of going up the ski slope, across a tad, and then back down, they started the down, and went back up, and then down, and then back up and then down, and then back up and then down, and just for fun back up before the final down. My legs tried to detach themselves and hop the ski lift down at one point. There were a few more crazy things that aren't popping into memory right now, but needless to say it was hard.
In spite of the changes to the course and the much more difficult obstacles I finished in: 55:16!!!!! I knocked a full 6 minutes off my time from last year. I couldn't have been any happier. I swore it took me an hour and a half, but when Mom and Dad said I came in at under an hour, and then my shoe tag confirmed it, I was amazed. Rich came in about 3 minutes ahead of me which was the exact same pace/distance we kept during our training, so it definitely paid off.
We were muddy, tired, sweaty, slightly out of breath, but overall happy. And like the crazies we are, we're signing up for next year again. Actually, I already did and Rich is doing it soon. It's going to be my incentive/inspiration for a speedy healing. Our goal in 2012? To knock another 5 minutes off of our times. And if I REALLY heal up, we're going to try for Tough Mudder in November 2012 too. I think Rich caught the adrenalin junkie bug too :)
If you want to view pics (though this year's photography company SUCKED) go to http://www.sportphoto.com/ look for the warrior dash series. Click on the 2011 Windham WD Saturday August 13
When prompted to enter bib number, put in 80604. They keep threatening to archive the pics, so if you want to see them, look before Sept 23.
I'll post a 'rest of August/pre surgery update' hopefully tomorrow. Love to all and thanks for the well wishes.
Hugs,
B
I've been very absent recently. Life has taken a beyond hectic turn since right before the dash. Many of you (I say that as if I have an abundance of followers, when I know that isn't the case) have wondered if I survived the dash, and if so, how did I do. I shall henceforth update.
Because I'm writing this, it does indeed confirm that I survived the dash but man, was it hard. Mind you, Rich and I trained a whole lot more than I did last year. When I talked Rich into doing it with me, I explained everything that went on last year. What I didn't realize is they'd take last year's event, which I thought was tough, and make it that much harder. This year's dash was less like last year's and more like a mini Tough Mudder, and I wasn't the only one who thought so.
I ended up in a pack of guys who also ran last year's, and we were commiserating about the increase in difficulty level from 2010 to 2011. The organizers of the dash thought it would be so much fun to go even higher on the ski slope this year. And the obstacles from last year? Yeah. They would have been child's play this year. They took the tire run/high knees thing like football players do, and threw in a few rows of junked cars and large trucks to hurdle over in between the 4 rows of tires. And the 4' high walls from last year? This year, they were a bit higher and you had to palm over them with upper body strength and then duck under barbed wire walls, about 4 rows of them. The swamp trudge was complicated by massive logs strung on tension through the middle that you had to hurdle over. There was this teeter totter thingie that was about 15 feet up in the air that you had to go up and then partway down and back up and then fully down, and it had little rungs on it. The problem is that it was only about a 2x6x12 so it wasn't that wide and from the height it was a little daunting if you fell off onto the rocky terrain. Hmmm. What else. Oh, the cargo nets took some crack cocaine and beefed up, they made a horizontal one you had to scramble over which was difficult. There was a forest of tires that swung and hit hard when the person ahead of you pushed them out of the way and you got them on the back swing. And the worst part? Instead of going up the ski slope, across a tad, and then back down, they started the down, and went back up, and then down, and then back up and then down, and then back up and then down, and just for fun back up before the final down. My legs tried to detach themselves and hop the ski lift down at one point. There were a few more crazy things that aren't popping into memory right now, but needless to say it was hard.
In spite of the changes to the course and the much more difficult obstacles I finished in: 55:16!!!!! I knocked a full 6 minutes off my time from last year. I couldn't have been any happier. I swore it took me an hour and a half, but when Mom and Dad said I came in at under an hour, and then my shoe tag confirmed it, I was amazed. Rich came in about 3 minutes ahead of me which was the exact same pace/distance we kept during our training, so it definitely paid off.
We were muddy, tired, sweaty, slightly out of breath, but overall happy. And like the crazies we are, we're signing up for next year again. Actually, I already did and Rich is doing it soon. It's going to be my incentive/inspiration for a speedy healing. Our goal in 2012? To knock another 5 minutes off of our times. And if I REALLY heal up, we're going to try for Tough Mudder in November 2012 too. I think Rich caught the adrenalin junkie bug too :)
If you want to view pics (though this year's photography company SUCKED) go to http://www.sportphoto.com/ look for the warrior dash series. Click on the 2011 Windham WD Saturday August 13
When prompted to enter bib number, put in 80604. They keep threatening to archive the pics, so if you want to see them, look before Sept 23.
I'll post a 'rest of August/pre surgery update' hopefully tomorrow. Love to all and thanks for the well wishes.
Hugs,
B
Saturday, August 13, 2011
OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!!!!!!
It's here!!!! I'm dashing, today at 9am with Rich. We're supposed to have amazing weather, so that's a good thing, and the temperature will be perfect as well. I can't wait. Here's to a fun, injury free day! Woo WOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
I'll post race wrap up either today or tomorrow, and should hopefully have some vid as mom is bringing her little flip vid cam thingie.
I can't wait. Seriously.
Love ya,
B
I'll post race wrap up either today or tomorrow, and should hopefully have some vid as mom is bringing her little flip vid cam thingie.
I can't wait. Seriously.
Love ya,
B
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
EXTREME HOME MAKEOVER!!!!
ABC's Extreme Home Makeover is coming to the Hudson Valley, in Orange County in 8 days and is looking for volunteers. http://www.joinextreme.com/ny
Sign up today to help a worthy and deserving family.
I signed up. I'm beyond excited. This has been on my bucket list for many years, to be able to help out if ever they came to the area. I'm stoked. I signed up for Monday into Tuesday from 8pm-2am shift, since you all know I'm usually awake until 2 anyway since I'm a night owl. I'd encourage you to sign up for a shift if you're able. Honestly, I'm beyond excited. This is SO cool.
Sign up today to help a worthy and deserving family.
I signed up. I'm beyond excited. This has been on my bucket list for many years, to be able to help out if ever they came to the area. I'm stoked. I signed up for Monday into Tuesday from 8pm-2am shift, since you all know I'm usually awake until 2 anyway since I'm a night owl. I'd encourage you to sign up for a shift if you're able. Honestly, I'm beyond excited. This is SO cool.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Over the puddles and through the woods....
a warrior dash training we go.
Our feet help us run, we're having such fun
Our feet help us run, we're having such fun
And we hope we break no bo-ones
(that word is bones, stretched out......sing it to "Over the River and Through the Woods" in case you were confused)
So. Less than a week to go. And I've been beyond delinquent with posting. I do have a valid, legitimate excuse though, at least in my opinion. I've been rent-a-nanny for the past few weeks on and off.
My brother is stationed at Fort Dix right now, and is a single father of a very active three year old boy. He's currently in air traffic control, and is working his butt off, but is on shift work which consists of two weeks of days and two weeks of nights. During his weeks of nights, he goes in at 3 and gets home around 11, so normally his son goes into a baby sitter's house and falls asleep there until Kevin is able to pick him up. Enter Auntie :)
I've gone down three times in the last four weeks to help out with Colton (his son) so that they could have some home cooked meals and quality time. I'm loving the proximity and the fact that I get to see my brother and nephew more, and get to help out. That said, it's fairly exhausting parenting a toddler, so I've been negligent with my postings because by the time I get him bathed and down to bed I'm about ready to crash and usually do.
Training has been going wonderfully now that we have the expanded terrain/area on which we go. It's such a help having the extension of ground to cover to make it as close to the dash as humanly possible. Rich (the guy with whom I'm running) is just in amazing shape. He sets the pace for going up the hill and I do my best to try to catch him. He stays about 5-8 minutes ahead of me, and I try to keep him in sight distance. Unfortunately, every time I get closer, he pushes himself to try to lose me. It's a fun game of cat and mouse that has really stepped up our run. We're able to do the whole 3+ miles in 43 minutes. I realize that sounds horribly lame, but if I had been able to get a video of the road on which we train, you'd understand it's much more of a steep hike than a flat jog around a level track, so keeping the pace and time that we have has made us very proud.
I'm anxious to run/hike/jog the dash again this year, knowing what I'm facing. Last year I completed it in one hour, one minute, twenty seconds. My goal was to knock off at least 20 seconds this year, but I'll do the best I can. I'm doing light training this week, drinking protein packed chocolate milk (mmmmm, milk) and picking up our team shirts. Yes, you read right, team shirts.
I have a former business associate who owns a screen printing company. He and his business are awesome. Visit it at http://www.mixtureprints.com/ . Chris does individual custom screen printing if you have a self design or only need a singular or few shirts made. So tomorrow I get the LBC Warrior tanks that were made so we can be matching on Saturday. We're going to have LBC Warriors on the front and our names on the back with the dates we're running. I'll have last year's and this year's, and Rich will have this year's dates. Every event we do, and every date we run we'll have added to the back of the tanks. And if we have anyone else join the ranks, they'll get shirts too with their names and dates on the backs of them.
I'm exhausted at this point, but cautiously optimistic about the run. I'm hoping I do better this year but again, having had surgery in January, as long as I finish I'll be happy. And with surgery about a month away, I'm cramming as much into my remaining weeks as possible. As is, I have no clue how long it'll take my body to fully recover from this one and if I'll have full mobility afterward.
So I'll try to update once more with the pic of the shirts. And then, on Saturday at 9am, we run, we hike, we conquer. And I'll do a post update for y'all with pics :)
Thanks for your love, support, and prayers. It means the world to me.
Love ya,
B
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