May 6, 2007
I have been to Hell, and part of the way back.
Be grateful for your digestive system, that ever-cycling engine you take for granted, that pumps bile and acid through you at an alarming rate, ready to consume whatever you throw down your gullet. :> I am ready to get mine back.
On Thursday, Andrea and I calculated that it was time to try a big meal, something I hadn’t really done up until that time (resulting in my all-time low weight of 154 lbs). It didn’t go through – apparently I had been slowly getting constipated all along – and by midnight the pressure in my stomach put me back at a 10/10 on the pain scale. That lasted all night – I was stuffing Percoset in every 2 hours (instead of the prescribed 4 hours) – and just hoping to either come through or die. By 9am I started throwing up, a sure sign that things weren’t right. We decided a trip to Winston-Salem was required. Even though it was 2 hours away, no one in the local ER was going to know what to do with me.
What a car ride. I don’t know who had it worse, Andrea or I. Andrea said the only thing she can equate it to is when our roles were reversed and I was driving her to the hospital with labor pains. About two-thirds of the way there we actually ran out of gas, which allowed us to be introduced to the real-life Good Samaritan. We managed to squeeze the last mile out of the Prius on just the battery, and made it most of the way up the next off-ramp. Where we came to a dead stop. I started heaving into the big silver bowl in my lap, and looking pitifully out the window at the passing cars, hoping for sympathy. I told Andrea to just flag someone down, anyone, but all the SUV’s kept on driving past, one woman shouting “I’m on a school activity!” Then, the homeless man begging for change at the corner came quickly over. He saw our predicament and immediately offered to push our car to the side of the road. Andrea jumped back in, put it in neutral, and he got us off the road. Then he insisted that he go get us a gallon of gas, as he was a local and knew where to go. We looked at each other and thought “What else can we do?” So we gave him $20 and watched him walk briskly off towards the horizon. He left his jacket and some other scraps behind, probably his entire worldly possessions, so we thought he might just be the friend-in-need/friend-indeed. A police officer then pulled up behind us, lights flashing, and a very nice woman asked us what was going on. After explaining, she said “Oh yeah, that must be Randy, I’ll go see if I can find him and give him a ride.” Talk about small town! :> Before she could find him, he returned, with a makeshift empty milkjug of gas and a hand-crafted cardboard funnel. Andrea said “Are you sure that’s gas?” and he said, “Sure, smell it! It’s gas!”, and proceeded to fill ‘er up. We were back up and running in no time. Randy showed us his port-a-cath, telling us that he was on the tail end of a cancer fight himself! Lymphoma, in his case, and it was behind him. We shared what pocket change we had with him, and he was so grateful. The police officer returned, and we all had a little moment of celebration. Randy said with a big grin: “I’m rich! Hahaha!”
By the time we arrived at the hospital, I must have been green (the same color as the stuff in the bowl I was trying to not slosh all over the car). I seriously felt ready to die, jumping out of the car and continuing to vomit into the bowl, now on the ground. The staff saw me through the doors and jumped into action. I was in a wheelchair and sped up to Dr. Levine’s floor in no time, having no idea what happened to poor Andrea. Once there, they had me lie down and tried to get an IV going. At least six attempts were needed, because all my veins were collapsed from dehydration. I continued to ask for pain medication and mutter profanity, embarrassingly not quite under my breath. My only redeeming behavior was a weak “thank you” after the last IV attempt. What a wretch.
In a short amount of time, they had me hydrated and stabilized and medicated. I was sent for a CT scan, which showed that I was stopped up from top to bottom, to quote Dr. Issacks. The doctors asked me how much pain medication I was taking, and I sheepishly admitted. It turns out that Percoset (along with most narcotics) are constipating, so I was in a catch-22 of reducing my pain with a drug that increased the source of the pain. Dr. Levine came to see me, and said we were going to take a “low tech” approach. “Low tech is good, right?” I said. It is if you like enemas – I had two that day, one in the middle of the night, and another early in the morning. That seemed to clear out my lower half, but eating didn’t go through me yet. I guess I shut my system down with all that Percoset. I repeatedly asked everyone that came in what the best thing to do was to get things moving again, and came away with 1) walk; 2) drink. So we walked the halls of the hospital as much as we could stand it.
By midday Friday, the doctors were saying that my X-rays looked good and I could probably check out if I was feeling alright. Andrea was totally burned out and needed to get back home for some real rest – the “chair” they provide for guests to sleep on is a poor excuse for a bed. So even though breakfast and lunch were still haunting me, I decided that I could struggle through at home as well as I could in the hospital.
I’ve been pretty much miserable since, waiting for my digestive system to wake up from the drug abuse. That means lots of walking through the pain, since I’m not going to take any more narcotics. Not really eating anything. And I have to keep forcing myself to drink, if I expect to stay out of the hospital. If I can just feel a little bit better tomorrow, it will be a great birthday. :>
Another round of thanks is due, the cards and well-wishes just keep flowing in. This round included flower buds from the Ettermans (they bloomed beautifully!), a card signed by all my college buddies reunited at Kizer’s wedding, with a handful of CD’s thrown in from Erik, an incredibly generous get-well basket from all the great kids on Reiley’s Sirens soccer team, strawberries and blackberry plants and food from neighbors, and a visit from Andrea’s Aunt Mary and Uncle Dave – they are so sweet. And many more! Thank you all, I love you guys so much. And I am so lucky to have Andrea by my side, I’d be out of my mind without her.
May 7th, 2007
I turned 41 today. I was hoping to get some relief for my birthday :> but still waiting. I received nice birthday wishes in visits from the Gillespies and Merchants (who gave me chocolate (something to dream about!) and season 1 of 24). The visitors were good distractions. Later, Andrea, Betty and the girls gave me a nice quiet birthday celebration, it was just right.
May 8th, 2007
I moved. Thank you God! (and sorry for the juxtaposition!) Back on the road to recovery!
May 9th, 2007
Yeah, though I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death, I got my groove back. Just in time for Reiley’s birthday! We had a good time, and hopefully I didn’t slow things down too much. Reiley did have to take a rain check on her camping sleepover event until I’m in better shape, but we did have time for pancakes, lunch at P.F. Change’s, a raging good game of Carcasonne, using all expansions (and Grammy won! she now officially “likes” the game!), opening lots of great presents, and of course, watching more Star Wars! I guess I can’t just blame the girls for the addiction, I fed it a little more by setting them up with Lego Star Wars ][ on their computer. The Star Wars theme song now plays continuously from multiple directions in our household.
May 15th, 2007
I was up above it. Now I’m down in it.
Not moving again. Sigh… I guess I ate a meal that was just a little bit too big (although I can’t identify what it was). Tried Milk of Magnesia, Senna, Colase, and even the “big guns” (Phospho soda), but nothing has moved me yet. I was back at 9/10 on the scale all night again, throwing up in the morning, but not so much that I went back to the hospital. Steady on. Walking the razor’s edge.
May 17th, 2007
Eventually after going back to liquids for a couple days, the stomach acid seems to have started moving through me again. The doc says I have to start eating food again, even though I know what that will do to me. But I’m 145lbs so I can’t argue. I think I am – Andrea took away my scale because I was obsessing. :>
The food is making me uncomfortable, but so far, it’s staying down. Now come out! :>
May 18th, 2007
Andrea played the role of my physical therapist today, after watching me favor my pain for the past six weeks. Basically, with my impacted bowels, I am only comfortable in a fetal position. That’s whether sleeping, standing or walking. My back is perpetually sore from holding myself in that hunched position.
So she is attempting to get me to stand up straight. Physically, I am currently unable; it’s as if I were being placed on the rack. If I use all my glutes to push my pelvis forward, I can almost get there, in a very contorted manner. Andrea stepped me through about 10 different adjustments (“drop your shoulders, clasp your hands behind your back”, etc.) until I was as close to normal as possible. Ouch it hurts! But I sure need to keep at this.
May 20th, 2007
Moved again. Forgive me if I don’t jump up and do my “Mission Accomplished” victory dance at the moment. I’m still wiping the egg off my face from last time. :P
Now I’ve got serious ulcer pain knifing my gut. My consolation: this CANNOT last.
And it’s dissipating over the last couple hours. I may be able to rest tonight. Getting hopeful again! :>
My neighbor Alan told me (yet another!) unbelievable story about a kid on his son’s baseball team. Alan is the coach, and this kid plays catcher. He has an extremely rare disease wherein he cannot digest food. My jaw dropped (again) when I heard that, feeling very foolish for all the fuss I make about my condition. This kid has to have food given to him every day, bypassing his GI tract. And he’s out there catching for a baseball team! Alan says he’s the picture of health. Yet another inspiration to keep us all humble.
May 24, 2007
Mom says “update your blog, it’s not upbeat enough and I’m getting depressed”. Boy, the pressure is on! Unfortunately, the monotony of my healing process does not lend itself toward motivation to write, nor does it provide much in the way of interesting material. Cest la vie. “Mom says”, so here goes. :>
Food is staying down, that’s a plus. One cup of food is all I can take before hitting discomfort, so I’m working on many small meals throughout the day.
Sleep is still an issue. The pain medication can often help me get in a few hours, so I have been using that. To avoid slowing down my digestive system, I have been trying to walk and drink a lot.
That’s all I really have to say. Currently, it’s the summary of my life. Hope it’s enough mum. :>
May 25th, 2007
Stephanie, my home health nurse, came by today, and my wound is doing great. Since starting the debriding, it has really started to heal fast. The debriding consists of putting a papaya/urea cream into the wound. This cream eats away at the “bad” wound surface (a white rubbery covering called “slough”), allowing the pink “healing” wound surface to come through and get to work. Stephanie has been great – if she hadn’t pushed for incorporating the debriding solution into my wound care, I am sure it would still be covered over with slough and hardly changed at all. Thanks Stephanie!
I’m down to 143 lbs. That number is hard to process. I can’t believe I don’t just blow over and snap like a twig. I’m trying to put on weight but it’s hard without the ability to eat a lot at one sitting. One devious solution: make fatty comfort food! The only baking I ever learned how to do was of an old recipe that my mom got from her mom. It’s just a cheap way to extend pie crust scraps into a little extra goodness, but I’ve always loved it. Now I have the kids hooked too. And Andrea complains about me making junk food, but she does it with her mouth crammed full of it. :> It’s dead simple: just roll out pie crust dough (which I make from flour, margarine and salt – if you’re allergic to reading about unhealthy food you might need to stop reading now!) into a roughly square shape. Spread a layer of fat on it (traditionally, butter or margarine, but last time I used canola oil to good effect). Then a layer of sugar (“white death”, as my mom calls it) followed by a good layer of cinnamon. Roll up the dough into a log, and slice the log into 1/2 inch sections. Lay the sections flat in a pie crust shell, and bake ’em up. Yummy, easy, and bad for you, too! :>
May 28th, 2007
This cracked me up, black humor at its finest. I had a relapse last night, and I was in pain all night, unable to sleep. Sitting on the futon at around 3am, all of a sudden I passed out and my head dropped like a boat anchor. That might have been the beginning of some beautiful sleep, except that my head hit the top plank of the futon, with a huge “whack”! So instead of sweet sleep, I sat bolt-upright, having been dealt both stomach AND head pain. Denied! Hahaha! I crack me up.
The rest of May, and the beginning of June, 2007
My brother Dan says that I am too close to see the minuscule changes as I am recovering, but from his perspective I seem to be moving along. I guess that’s true – my wound is healed, I’m keeping food down, even if I can only eat a little at a time, etc. I bounced off the bottom of 138lbs, and I’m back up and holding around 145lbs. And I have lots of plans, this recovery needs to shift up a gear! YMCA princess outings, Dan and I want to attend a tech expo, camping trip, planning a trip to NYC, soccer coaching around the corner, have to get in a bike trip to work before we move in August… get crackin’ McFly!