Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

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 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.