Next thing I remember is waking up to a nurse reaching between my boobs to pull a sensor off. "I'm not trying to grope you, I've just got to take this off of you." and that just sets the picture for the rest of the day.
Overnight surgery, finally got into my room around 4 am. I was scattered, I had no clue what was going on, my back felt funny, I had a pain pump, I really only knew that I had surgery but really didn't know much else. Granted, it's been an entire 48 hours since I first locked up my leg... can you say whirlwind? So of course, I get on my phone onto facebook...that's the smart thing to do! It seemed like someone was in and out of my room for the first couple of hours without a break...and I honestly don't remember a whole lot til I got a text asking if I was awake. Of course I was awake...I just had massive surgery (which I still had no clue what the surgery actually was) and there was no hope for sleep anytime soon. (granted it was only like 6 am ish....) In walks my doctor. He looked exhausted. stressed. worried. (I never want to see that look caused by me again! That's when I knew I was in for some major work ahead...) At this point, he's been my doctor for a grand total of 36 hours? (he's now stuck with me.....and I am forever grateful!) He came in, sat down, and visited for awhile. And this is when I realized that I could barely move. I wonder what that looked like crossing my thought process....I wonder what my face showed, I'm not sure I really want to know. I remember nothing else except people from the hospital were in and out all morning.
I got a text asking what room I was in....my response "no clue. a room" Then my friends starting coming (they were able to find me without my help!). The ones I didn't expect. The ones I considered friends but didn't realize that it was mutual. Talk about being overwhelmed. People that came to the hospital surprised me. I never realized how strong a community I had built around me, I never realized how much I relied on that community until the need arose.
PT came in to assess me. and for the first time my body didn't really do what I told it to. The first thoughts of this isn't good crossed my mind. Still didn't have feeling from the waist down. But instead of things working when I told them to, things weren't working the greatest. About this time, modesty has completely gone out the window... which I never expected to happen. I didn't care that the gown I was in was hanging open in the back. I didn't care that I hadn't showered, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, or even put on my glasses. I walked farther than expected.... and told my story 800 million times. People were shocked by my story, shocked by me having the surgery I had. Friends showed up all evening. The ones I didn't expect. The ones I did expect...didn't come.
Day two rolls around. I'm asking questions about everything that isn't exactly important. I'm complaining about the massive bruising on my arms from the IVs.... and I yelled at my neurosurgeon when he did rounds. The man who operated, the man who was the one who saved the use of my legs and function of bowel and bladder....(granted a lot of people were integral to this...) and I had the nerve to yell at him. Now if you saw me in the hospital...my mind couldn't focus on squat...I couldn't read a book, I couldn't watch a tv show, I couldn't play a game on my phone. My ability to focus was shot and let's not even bring up memory....a lot of things are fuzzy from the first few days. The Neurosurgeon came in, talked to me for a few minutes and told me to ask two questions of PT when I saw them later in the day. Then he walked out. I yelled "STOP!" he turned around and looked at me and said what? I said in a teacher voice I'm sure...You want me to ask questions of other people but my brain isn't working and there's no way I'll remember them. Get back in here and tell me again so I can write them down. He listened...He walked back in, leaned against the wall and went over the questions with me again. Then with a laugh he asked if there was anything else I needed. I said nope, have a good day. To this day, I think that story will stick with me forever.
Constant stream of people again. It was nice to have everyone in and out to keep from focusing on pain, or discomfort or the unknown. But on the other hand, I was exhausted, but couldn't sleep. and PT came again....still ugly walking and couldn't walk as far as I did the day before. And yet another person comes in and tells me I'm heading to the rehab floor tomorrow. great. Whatever that means, people around me seemed surprised that they were moving me as quick as they were...to me, it seemed normal. It's Friday night...not a fun night, a nurse I never did learn her name seemed to be in my room all night long because I was miserable...too hot, too uncomfortable, too stiff, no relief from the pain pump, no relief from anything. She found me a fan, she checked on me all night long, she helped me roll over and over and over and over...pretty scary thought when you can't roll over in bed on your own.
Sat morning rolls around...didn't get much sleep and then was told that I can't go to rehab with the pain pump. So they said to try not to use it. (when you tell me to try not to do something, I just don't do it...solely to prove a point.) so I went cold turkey off the pain pump at 9 in the morning. here's the problem...there was no plan in place for a different source of pain control....hmmm. slight problem maybe? the other problem was I was still on a catheter.... and they pulled that before I moved floors too. (I'm still not sure what ended up being the worse of the two....) I washed my face for the first time since getting to the hospital. They moved all my stuff and then moved me.
New floor. New doctor responsible for me. New bracelet on my wrist. New nurses. Crappy TV. Had to get new meds for pain. New meds for pain caused nausea. Nausea called for more new meds... see a circle here? ugly day.
oh wait.... I did get a shower (Sat or Sun? I do not know). Glorious shower. First shower in days. and the bandage came off my back. Of course I couldn't see it. So a friend took a picture...holy cow! My entire back seemed to be a row of staples, with a short row to the side. (yes I still have the picture if you want to see it....it's not very pretty but it is pretty cool :))
Sat night....friends and family are at the hockey game (where I was supposed to be). Friends and Family at the LOG Agape Celebration (where I also was supposed to be). and where am I? in the hospital, by myself, in pain, and miserable. I didn't understand what was going on, I didn't understand why my pain was as high as it was, I didn't understand why my friends and family were out having fun while I couldn't. All I could think about was what I was missing. People texted all night, updates from the game, pictures and videos from the celebration, just checking in. Those texts were a double-edged sword. While people were keeping me distracted (which I asked for), I was in tears because every single text reminded me of what I couldn't do now. And this was the first that fact had hit. I couldn't even roll over in bed, how on earth was I going to go to another hockey game? How could I work with the high schoolers I love? How could I be independent and live on my own? What the hell was I going to do?
The rest of the weekend was a blur. one major moment stands out and I honestly have no clue when during the weekend it occurred but a friend comes to visit that actually got my mother to leave....(my mother hovered and wanted to fix everything but couldn't...not much fun!) A friend that understood the workings of the hospital, that understood being a patient, that brought a shit ton of stuff to entertain me (I still love the microphone!), that just let me relax and not 'put on the show' of being a good patient. I needed her that day more than I ever knew and only realized as time has gone by.
The plan is to start PT in the morning...this means PT, OT, and whatever else. Hours of these things. And I can't roll myself over in bed. How on earth is this going to work? And I can't pee...so after days of misery of being straight cathetered I threw a fit and made them put the foley back in. I wasn't going to handle that pain of being flat on my back any longer. And talk about body functions....mine still weren't working. Can't pee. Can't poop. Can't walk. Can't get out of bed without help. Can't roll over in my bed without help. Can't take pain meds without massive amounts of nausea. (can you imagine throwing up just after having back surgery? I couldn't!) ...see all the can'ts? Needless to say...another night of little sleep.
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