and then there were four…

Yesterday I woke up with really bad muscle pain in my right side. It wasn’t at the incision site, but near it–it got to be a bit unbearable, and it had me worried.

“I don’t want to ignore something big, but I don’t want to be a worrywart about a muscle spasm either.” I said to Bill.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re worried about, it’s not like you have an appendix any more, so you’ll be fine.” Bill looked at me, grinning. “You’ll probably do more harm worrying about it than anything else.”

Bill obviously forgot who he was dealing with, the queen of worry.

I mean, what if it was my liver? Or my gallbladder? or some other internal organ that I didn’t know about? EVEN THOUGH the pain was muscular and definitely not internal, I still worried. I went to bed and tried to sleep on my back the whole night.

I woke up and the pain is almost (*almost*) all gone.

I hate it when he’s right.

This week, as a part of my appendectomy recovery process, I had two follow-up appointments with two different doctors; the surgeon who operated on me, and my general practitioner who was a part of the whole process as well (I believe he is also a surgeon, but I am not 100% sure).

My first appointment was on Monday with the surgeon. I had met him in the hospital after the surgery and he was nice enough, but there was a nurse in the room with him when he came to talk to me.

So, I went to my appointment and the surgeon came into the room, solo, to remove my sutures. He had me lay down on the table and removed the sutures; all was normal. Normal until he tapped my stomach and said “you need to get rid of this.” and followed up with comments on how I just needed to stop “eating cookies and candies and cakes” and basically made it sound like I was a pretty girl…BUT.

I told him I knew how to lose weight, I had done it before and I was working on shedding weight from back to back pregnancies, but it had been harder this go round. He smiled, and said “well you can do it”, and that I needed to come see him when “(I) get skinny again”.

Now I am about to be BRUTALLY honest with you, and it is something I am really sensitive about, but I want to give you an idea of what we are dealing with.

I will be the first to admit that I have extra weight to lose. I’m still carrying about 20 pounds of baby weight from both pregnancies. After Bill and I got married I gained a little weight (about 20 pounds). That’s 40 pounds. Truth be told, I should probably lose about 10 pounds on top of that. So a solid 50. Seeing as how I lost over 70 in college I do not find 50 to be a daunting number. But it takes time and it has taken me longer this go-round than before. It’s definitely frustrating. However, I tend to carry all of my weight in my stomach area, and I’ve NEVER had a flat stomach. NEVER (okay, maybe as a little kid but even that was fleeting). Even when I was at my smallest weight still had more than an inch of pinch, but I looked good and felt great so I tried to be okay with it (I’m not sure if I ever was, but that’s a different story for a different day).

Needless to say when I left the office (after he once again said to come see him again if I needed ANYTHING), I was in tears. I went home and obsessed about it all day, much to the chagrin (and outrage) of my friends, family, and everyone else on Facebook. But I couldn’t let it go and finally I realized Bill loved me for who I was and I should start loving myself for who I was and stop giving myself such a hard time about what one dickhead said to me.

Today, I went to my general practitioner, someone I have been seeing since we moved here. He’s a great doctor, I just had not seen him since before I became pregnant with Olivia. When I got into the examination room the nurse came in. I would like to note that this woman was gorgeous, she reminded me of  Michaela Conlin. She had long dark hair, tall (an inch or so taller than me, and I’m 5’8) an athletic build (not too thin, not too big, but I am afraid to say “average” because who knows what that means anymore?)  She was probably only a bit smaller than I was at my smallest weight (this is important, I promise). She is the size I strive to be.

I told her everything I have just told you about the other surgeon, and she was APPALLED. She kept saying “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, that was totally uncalled for and not something he had any right to say, you are perfect and the baby weight will come off soon enough. She then told me what had worked for her (LOTS of water and an apple before each meal) and looked so concerned for me. She then mentioned how the name of the surgeon sounded familiar and she couldn’t put her finger on it but she THOUGHT he might be the same surgeon who came on to her when she was at the hospital to give birth to her child. Which would explain A LOT. Maybe he had a type?

I’m not sure what she told the doctor, but he didn’t mention what I said to her, so I can assume that he had no clue as to what went down. My doctor was terrific and told me everything looked great and that we just needed to monitor my gallstones. He told me that most people lost about ten pounds with an appendectomy, (so I have about three to go? ha!). After I joked about how it was the best diet ever and I just hoped to keep up the momentum since I could only eat about 3 ounces at a time. He then told me to take it one day at a time, to not expect more than one pound a week, and to eat small meals and do light exercise until I healed completely (all things I knew, but helpful to hear it from an actual doctor instead of the internet). I left feeling happy and excited instead of depressed and in tears.

YES doctors should discuss weight with their patients if it is a problem, BUT they should make sure they are coming from a medical standpoint. Had a doctor done tests and found that my weight was a problem to my health, I would have been okay discussing it, however since the first doctor made it about how I looked it was TOTALLY uncalled for and not based in fact at all, because there is no one size fits all to health and weight. Since my regular doctor did not comment on it until I mentioned it and then he only gave me points, tips and encouragement, it made me feel comfortable and safe. I also no longer feel like I am an unhealthy slob, because he assured me I was fine and healthy from everything he could tell from my records, vital stats, etc.

Bedside manner DOES matter.

Please note: if you do not like reading about medical situations, this post may not be for you. It’s full of wounds, drugs, and organ removal!

I’m currently recuperating from an emergency appendectomy that happened last Tuesday. It was my first surgery, and I don’t wish the pain of acute appendicitis on anyone. Seriously, it was worse than childbirth (in my opinion), because at least with contractions you get some relief between bursts of pain. This shit just didn’t stop.

We celebrated Miss Sophia’s 2nd birthday a week ago (I’ll update and post photos and whatnot of our Yo Gabba Gabba extravaganza later this week, hopefully). And I just assumed the gas and indigestion I had been having was due to eating bacon wrapped pineapple bites,  little smokies in a blanket and other crap (but DELICIOUS) party foods. So I shook it off and spent most of Sunday in bed, not eating. Monday I spent the day a bit gassy, but, again, just assumed I was dealing with the worst gas pains in my life (did a LOT of farting and burping, ya’ll).

By Tuesday morning I woke up with intense gas pains and a sharp pain in the lower right side of my stomach. It was not too sharp at first, and it only flared up when I moved or sat down. Bill went to work and told me to call the doctor if it felt as bad as I was describing. So I did. I finally called my doctor, which I never do because I never want to be a bother, and I would rather sit and complain about the pain I am in instead of finding out what the problem is (yeah, I know). My doctor wouldn’t be in until 1:30, so Bill said he would come home early to take me and all would be well after a big antacid or something.

Then it all went terribly wrong.

As I was describing the pain to my mom and sitting down on the couch, I started crying at the intense sharp pain that ripped through my lower right side. My mom told me to call the office back RIGHT NOW and the office instructed me to go to the ER RIGHT NOW so Bill rushed home and his dad rushed over to stay with the girls, frantically telling me he was calling the ambulance because I was curled up in a ball moaning in agony. I drug myself to the bathroom to cry into the toilet when the pain got too bad, because I made the mistake of crying out in front of the girls earlier, which scared them and caused them to cry. Putting on your Poker Face for your kids is a part of the job sometimes.

After an extremely bumpy ride (of COURSE there was road construction going on on the streets Bill had to drive to get me to the hospital) and Bill telling me to breathe A LOT (um, I could finally cry without worrying about upsetting one of my children–suffice it to say I took full advantage of that, poor Bill), we made it to the ER. They whisked me back pretty quickly (under 10 minutes) because I was the only person hunched over in agony waiting to be seen. After taking my vitals, and getting my info they got me to undress and lay on a bed. After talking to an extremely nice doctor I was given miraculous pain medication. It was a narcotic of some sort and my pain became super manageable. It wasn’t gone completely, but I wasn’t screaming out in pain every few moments–it was heavenly and I became loopy and started pointing and saying nonsensical things, very reminiscent to how I act when drunk, fyi.

I was informed that they had to take me upstairs to have a CAT scan done, to make sure it was my appendix and nothing else (because while everything pointed to appendix they wanted to be sure, which of course is what they are SUPPOSED to do).

Most people will tell you that a CAT scan is pretty noninvasive and no big deal. Before this experience, I would agree, from everything I had heard. However, when they are checking to find out what is going wrong in your stomach they make this noninvasive experience become one of the most uncomfortable and invasive medical experiences of my life. If you’re squeamish you may not want to read the next sentence or two: They put a huge tube that is attached to a bag that I can only describe as twice as big as a normal IV bag (fuzzy memory, perhaps?) into your ass and fill your colon full of water, which they leave there while they run the damn CAT machine. THEN they tell you to lie still and to not push while they take the tube out of your ass, along with the water. CAT scan and colon cleaning, all in one. Not my finest hour, let me tell you.

So, the results come in and it turns out I have gallstones AND acute appendicitis. They weren’t 100% positive about any of it though and thought it could be either: A.) Acute Appendicitis B.)Gallbladder issues C.) Colon issues. So they were just going to schedule an emergency appendectomy and if it turned out that the other things needed to be addressed they would do it then.

Great. I’ve never had surgery before, and now I had to have surgery THAT DAY? I know it is a very commonplace surgery, I know that they do thousands each year, but it was my first surgery and the idea of going under anesthesia scared the shit out of me. Still does.

They wheel me into surgery and the last thing I remember was staring up at the big light (that was turned off) you always see on TV when people are about to go under (How cliche!) and hearing the anesthesiologist say they were going to give me something to relax me. Next thing I know, I am fuzzily waking up to a nurse standing over me and talking about how I was coming out of it in the recovery room. I looked at the clock and it was almost three hours later.

Definitely one of the more bizarre experiences of my life. Luckily it was ONLY my appendix and everything else was fine.

After surgery I was incredibly loopy and it was at this point I started telling random nurses how pretty they were (but, oddly, only the pretty ones–I specifically remember feeling guilty when I saw a less attractive one and didn’t tell her she was pretty) and joking with the orderly how he was going to find out all my secrets because I was so out of it, but the only big secrets I had were family recipes. (HIGH-LARIOUS, I tell ya!)

Bill was my rock, and he stayed throughout the entire surgery, only leaving to check on the girls and bring me back my laptop (among other things) after I had been settled into my room.

I slept really well, until I oddly woke up at 3 am and felt refreshed and like I had had 12 hours of sleep. I was told this was a result of the anesthesia. I did this for three days after. I had a liquid diet (I think I consumed 200 calories in 36 hours) and was in constant pain, so they gave me morphine, which is great while you are using, but the comedown is a bitch (oh the headaches). I thought they were going to release me after 24 hours, but my white count was too high and I was running a fever. As much as I wanted to go home, the quiet sleep and constant nursing care was very nice. (I can’t say enough about how amazing nurses are!) But after 48 hours I was done, and they finally felt confident to release me.

So here I am, a week after having surgery, my sutures were removed yesterday. I also sent Bill back to work yesterday, and have been slowly getting back to ‘normal’. Every day it gets a little easier, but I am extremely tired after doing small tasks and don’t do much in the heavy lifting arena. I picked Sophia up today (which was okay-ed by the doctor) and tried to put her up on my hip. I can pick her up. I can’t hold her on my right side yet. Sometimes it is the little things that creep up and frustrate me. I am also still unable to eat more than about 3 ounces of food at a time or I get really sick to my stomach. I also need to work on my lung capacity, as every deep breath I take causes soreness on my right side. They gave me this little do-hickey to help with that, which I should probably start using, huh?

Since I always try to look on the bright side, this has been an excellent boost to my stagnant weight loss, as I lost over six pounds in the past week. Here’s hoping I can coast on that momentum and keep it up. Let’s also hope I can get a clear answer on why one of my sutures were removed, yet I still have a weird open wound going on. It’s kind of gross, but since it’s not bleeding I figure it can wait until my follow-up tomorrow.