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I'm just home from spending two days in the hospital. I wasn't feeling well Friday, enough so that I left work early. A night's sleep, and I felt significantly better. Then I felt worse again Saturday, but figured it was just one of those things. Lying on my back was the most comfortable position, though any position got iffy after a bit, so I was spending quite a bit of time in bed. And some in a hot bath, which was a big help but only while I was actually in the bath. In the course of lying down, most of the pain receded. What wasn't was on the right side of my abdomen.
I had spent some time earlier in the day poking around the Mayo Clinic website, which at the time had been reassuring. At this point, though, I realized "right quadrant pain" plus fever might be nothing, but on the other hand people can die of "it might be nothing." We had arranged, a bit earlier, for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
womzilla to stop by and pick up a computer monitor we no longer need. Instead, I asked him to drive me to the emergency room at the nearby hospital, Columbia-Presbyterian's Allen Pavilion. He dropped me and cattitude off there. We went through assorted admissions people, described what was going on, and they felt various parts of my abdomen. The tentative diagnosis was a gall bladder problem, so they pulled out an ultrasound machine. Not a happy gall bladder. This had me sent down to the main hospital, on 168th, where they have more serious ultrasound equipment. [All this took time, of course, including time waiting for an ambulance.]
The bigger machine there confirmed gall bladder problems, so it was back to Allen Pavilion--apparently that's where they do gall bladder surgery, and they said they have lots of practice and are quite good at it. But first, CAT scan and chest X-ray, the latter apparently to rule out possible nasty complications. Both of those came up clean. By then it was one in the morning. They found me a bed, sent Cattitude home, and asked me more questions ranging from medical history to religion. That took us to about 1:30. I didn't sleep very well, between the pain, random hospital noise, and being awakened at 2 and 6 so they could check my vital signs. The hospital was quite helpful about the pain--I had an IV running with simple saline to avoid dehydration, and when I asked they gave me Dilaudid in the IV for the pain. (They also, at various times, used it for Nexium and for an antibiotic.)
Then we spent most of yesterday waiting for an operating team and operating room space. "We" because Cattitude, having been up late with me the night before, came back fairly early to hold my hand and provide moral support. Somewhere in there, the estimated time for the surgery was revised from "45 minutes" to "about two hours." Apparently the 45 minutes is how long it takes to remove a gall bladder laparoscopically, and the two hours is the entire time, including answering questions from the anesthesiology team, and recovering from anesthesia afterwards. Everyone there was very friendly, informative, and I believe good at their jobs. (I also overheard some prep for another patient, who was having a complicated surgical team involving both an oral surgeon and an orthopedic surgeon. He had fallen off a roof and fractured both his jaw and one hip. The roof was in the Dominican Republic. I didn't overhear why he'd come up to New York for the surgery.
Recovering involved lying there staring at nothing (they'd made me leave my glasses in my hospital room, which meant I couldn't see well anyhow), having a few sips of water, and having them explain the things they'd put on my legs. These are some kind of powered compression stockings, which squeeze the leg every minute to prevent blood clots. Then they took me upstairs, added some sugar to the IV, and put me to bed. After a bit, I pressed the call button, and asked if someone could help me to the bathroom. (I had been told not to travel alone at that point.) I also asked whether anyone ever managed to sleep with those things on their legs. My nurse said that if I could walk to and from the bathroom, I could leave the stockings off when I got back [they were removed for the walk]. I made it there and back, using the IV pole for support, so I got to keep them off. I also asked them to please close the door to the room, "because you guys are having a party out there." They had been talking quite loudly, and not about anything work-related. Even better, there was nobody in the other bed that night, so I asked that it be powered down. These modern hospital beds have minds of their own: when you tell them to raise one area, they do it, and they make other adjustments, based I think on sensors that show where the patient is lying. The other bed in my room was over-sensitive, and spent a lot of noisy time trying to adjust itself, first to my roommate and then to the empty air. So last night was better than the night before--but it still involved waking up once to ask for more Dilaudid, and being awakened at 2 and 6 to have my vital signs checked. I think the last good night's sleep I had was Thursday. It is now Tuesday. If I've left out anything important, I will edit this post later.
One of the things Cattitude did for me was send some emails, including to my boss. Her reply says "I am glad to hear Vicki is finished with the surgery. Please tell her we are all thinking about her and wishing her a speedy recovery. As for when she is ready to return to work, please tell her not to worry and to take the time she needs to fully recover. I will certainly not be expecting her back this week, and perhaps not next week as well." I probably need to call the nice woman in HR and find out more about the short-term disability leave policy. (I don't expect to be paid for this time; the question is about paperwork etc.) The discharge nurse at the hospital was talking in terms of at least a week out from work. I have an appointment for a follow-up with the surgeon in two weeks, May 13.
Also from the discharge nurse: I'm supposed to be on a low-fat diet for the next few weeks--though getting that specific was complicated, because she wanted to go on about how everyone should eat that way anyhow, and I wanted to know whether she was really telling me I could never have ice cream again. Low fat and lots of fiber. One of the effects of this surgery is bloating, and the fiber is to help that; I couldn't fasten my pants when I got dressed to come home. (Fortunately, oatmeal and dried fruit, which I asked about, are considered good things for this.) Avoid heavy lifting, for values of "heavy" over 5 pounds (and ideally nothing over 3 pounds). No baths; I can shower once I remove the dressings, which will be tomorrow evening. Walking is good. I asked how soon I could go back to the gym, and she said to ask the doctor at my follow-up, which makes sense. I am glad, again, of the weight-lifting, though. My abdominal muscles want to do as little as possible; this morning I realized I could get up more easily by using not only the bed's machinery (to get close to a sitting position) but my biceps and quadriceps. Nothing unusual in that approach, I'm sure, but I'm glad I have the quads to support it.
I have just established empirically that Julian cannot sit on my lap while I'm at my computer, because he will lean on my abdomen in the course of getting settled.
I had spent some time earlier in the day poking around the Mayo Clinic website, which at the time had been reassuring. At this point, though, I realized "right quadrant pain" plus fever might be nothing, but on the other hand people can die of "it might be nothing." We had arranged, a bit earlier, for
womzilla to stop by and pick up a computer monitor we no longer need. Instead, I asked him to drive me to the emergency room at the nearby hospital, Columbia-Presbyterian's Allen Pavilion. He dropped me and cattitude off there. We went through assorted admissions people, described what was going on, and they felt various parts of my abdomen. The tentative diagnosis was a gall bladder problem, so they pulled out an ultrasound machine. Not a happy gall bladder. This had me sent down to the main hospital, on 168th, where they have more serious ultrasound equipment. [All this took time, of course, including time waiting for an ambulance.]The bigger machine there confirmed gall bladder problems, so it was back to Allen Pavilion--apparently that's where they do gall bladder surgery, and they said they have lots of practice and are quite good at it. But first, CAT scan and chest X-ray, the latter apparently to rule out possible nasty complications. Both of those came up clean. By then it was one in the morning. They found me a bed, sent Cattitude home, and asked me more questions ranging from medical history to religion. That took us to about 1:30. I didn't sleep very well, between the pain, random hospital noise, and being awakened at 2 and 6 so they could check my vital signs. The hospital was quite helpful about the pain--I had an IV running with simple saline to avoid dehydration, and when I asked they gave me Dilaudid in the IV for the pain. (They also, at various times, used it for Nexium and for an antibiotic.)
Then we spent most of yesterday waiting for an operating team and operating room space. "We" because Cattitude, having been up late with me the night before, came back fairly early to hold my hand and provide moral support. Somewhere in there, the estimated time for the surgery was revised from "45 minutes" to "about two hours." Apparently the 45 minutes is how long it takes to remove a gall bladder laparoscopically, and the two hours is the entire time, including answering questions from the anesthesiology team, and recovering from anesthesia afterwards. Everyone there was very friendly, informative, and I believe good at their jobs. (I also overheard some prep for another patient, who was having a complicated surgical team involving both an oral surgeon and an orthopedic surgeon. He had fallen off a roof and fractured both his jaw and one hip. The roof was in the Dominican Republic. I didn't overhear why he'd come up to New York for the surgery.
Recovering involved lying there staring at nothing (they'd made me leave my glasses in my hospital room, which meant I couldn't see well anyhow), having a few sips of water, and having them explain the things they'd put on my legs. These are some kind of powered compression stockings, which squeeze the leg every minute to prevent blood clots. Then they took me upstairs, added some sugar to the IV, and put me to bed. After a bit, I pressed the call button, and asked if someone could help me to the bathroom. (I had been told not to travel alone at that point.) I also asked whether anyone ever managed to sleep with those things on their legs. My nurse said that if I could walk to and from the bathroom, I could leave the stockings off when I got back [they were removed for the walk]. I made it there and back, using the IV pole for support, so I got to keep them off. I also asked them to please close the door to the room, "because you guys are having a party out there." They had been talking quite loudly, and not about anything work-related. Even better, there was nobody in the other bed that night, so I asked that it be powered down. These modern hospital beds have minds of their own: when you tell them to raise one area, they do it, and they make other adjustments, based I think on sensors that show where the patient is lying. The other bed in my room was over-sensitive, and spent a lot of noisy time trying to adjust itself, first to my roommate and then to the empty air. So last night was better than the night before--but it still involved waking up once to ask for more Dilaudid, and being awakened at 2 and 6 to have my vital signs checked. I think the last good night's sleep I had was Thursday. It is now Tuesday. If I've left out anything important, I will edit this post later.
One of the things Cattitude did for me was send some emails, including to my boss. Her reply says "I am glad to hear Vicki is finished with the surgery. Please tell her we are all thinking about her and wishing her a speedy recovery. As for when she is ready to return to work, please tell her not to worry and to take the time she needs to fully recover. I will certainly not be expecting her back this week, and perhaps not next week as well." I probably need to call the nice woman in HR and find out more about the short-term disability leave policy. (I don't expect to be paid for this time; the question is about paperwork etc.) The discharge nurse at the hospital was talking in terms of at least a week out from work. I have an appointment for a follow-up with the surgeon in two weeks, May 13.
Also from the discharge nurse: I'm supposed to be on a low-fat diet for the next few weeks--though getting that specific was complicated, because she wanted to go on about how everyone should eat that way anyhow, and I wanted to know whether she was really telling me I could never have ice cream again. Low fat and lots of fiber. One of the effects of this surgery is bloating, and the fiber is to help that; I couldn't fasten my pants when I got dressed to come home. (Fortunately, oatmeal and dried fruit, which I asked about, are considered good things for this.) Avoid heavy lifting, for values of "heavy" over 5 pounds (and ideally nothing over 3 pounds). No baths; I can shower once I remove the dressings, which will be tomorrow evening. Walking is good. I asked how soon I could go back to the gym, and she said to ask the doctor at my follow-up, which makes sense. I am glad, again, of the weight-lifting, though. My abdominal muscles want to do as little as possible; this morning I realized I could get up more easily by using not only the bed's machinery (to get close to a sitting position) but my biceps and quadriceps. Nothing unusual in that approach, I'm sure, but I'm glad I have the quads to support it.
I have just established empirically that Julian cannot sit on my lap while I'm at my computer, because he will lean on my abdomen in the course of getting settled.
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glad to see you back even though i didn't know you were gone.
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I felt fragile for about a week, but I was back at work after the first week. Sitting up from a lying-down position was the single most painful thing I did during recovery.
Re: the fat thing. This may be anomalous, but I found losing my gall bladder had no effect on whether I could eat fat. Well, that's not true -- ever since then I have been able to eat fat without pain or, not to go into the unsavory details, other negative results. I eat ice cream and pizza and butter and things.
Hospitals are wretched places to be, with the noise and disturbed sleep and cold air. It's a wonder anyone recovers: I can get a cold just from those three things even when I don't start out ill.
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And now, because I am a geek, and so I demonstrate concern and sympathy with floods of unasked advice, some Stuff.
My experience, having lived with someone who had her gall-bladder removed, is like this on the "what can I eat and when" front, as well as other things:
First month: She was rigorous about minimal fat for a month, so I don't know how far she could have pushed it. One note, considering that your discharge nurse doesn't seem to have seen fit to mention it, is that the gall bladder kicks into bile production and emission (when it's working well) not only for fats but for tough, indigestible fibrous things, like apple peel and the outer layers of some seeds. I don't know whether bran is included in this, but I wouldn't be surprised. So if you're going to be scrupulous about the fat, be scrupulous about those, too. (I am restraining myself from a rant about people who approach nutrition and health advice the way you describe her doing, because this is not the time or place. I have one brewing, though. Damn, does it make me angry.)
In the first couple weeks: oh, yes, oh, yes on the fiber front, as long as it's not too tough. (That's tricky, because 'fiber' means 'material you can't digest,' and I don't have a rigorous grasp on which kinds of fiber are cool and which aren't, except that it sounds like oatmeal is a really good choice. Just watch it with peels, seeds, and nuts, and if you're uncertain, ask someone less opinionated than the nurse and more knowledgeable than I. But yes on the fiber, and not just because of the surgery: all opiates (including delaudit) slow down the digestive system, even if they don't completely immobilize it the way heroin does.
Coming off the big ol' meds: TAPER off the opiates. You probably know that, but a friend of mine just had collarbone surgery and thought she could tough out the pain, going from maximum allowed dose of Tylenol 3 to none, and had a week of truly horrible withdrawal. So...don't do that. Also - and again, you probably know this - overall, the opiates will make you feel crappy, as well as screwing up your bowel motility, so when you can taper down, you'll probably feel better to do so.
After the month was up, and ever since: she has gone back to a fairly rich diet, with no ill effects. What she's found is that she can only have an extremely small portion - not a full serving - of something that's truly greasy, like deep fried food. She can have some, but if she has more than a couple pieces, she doesn't digest them properly. However, she can really consume almost any amount of fat/oil when it's well-embedded in a matrix, like dairy products - including not only iced but whipped cream - or baked goods, and so forth. The richest shortbread in the world is not of concern to her, although french fries are. She has not had to change her lifestyle or eating habits very greatly.
I have no idea how representative she is, but I would think that her experiences might well be fairly typical.
I hope some of that is some use. If not, chuck it all out the window, and just keep the sympathy and concern.
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Ask me when you are ready to taper off the opiates, when you begin to find the side effects more distressing than the pain. *sigh* I know all about it. (That's a general offer, in case anybody other than Redbird needs it.)
I'm so glad the surgery is over and you are starting to heal.
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(And no, you do not have to give up ice cream forever.)
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Glad you got seen to so quickly and that things have gone okay. Take care and get well soon!
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:-)
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(My dad had his gall bladder out but since that was about 20 years ago I don't remember a lot of specifics. But he seemed to get along quite well without it.)
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I would definitely follow the dietary advice rigidly for a few weeks. Adding back things gradually will tell you what you tolerate and what you don't. Ice cream probably won't be a major issue after a couple of weeks.
I know dozens of people who have had their gall bladders out, including myself, and the majority of people I know experienced at least some issues with food afterwards. The most problematic thing, and the sensitivity that lasts the longest, is to very greasy things. Anything fried or deep-fried in fat, or very greasy pizza.
For some people it tapers off quickly, for others it does not. The Tanuki is still somewhat likely to have unpleasant restroom issues after a greasy food, and he is 1 year out from his surgery. I have been without a gall bladder for 22 years, and a heavily greasy meal can still cause me diarrhea. Fortunately I'm not all that fond of greasy food.
Your mileage will vary; experimentation will be useful.
Hang in there!
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Not that it makes any difference, functionally speaking.