Part 2...

It's not that hard to go 6 days without eating when you're on an IV.  The IV, for the most part, takes care of the hunger pain most of us are familiar with.  It's the other stuff, that you have no idea is related to food, that is hard to deal with.  Your skin drys out, your nose bleeds, and your mouth develops sores from lack of saliva. Your veins do not plump up like normal, so regardless of how easy it may have been to stick an IV or draw blood, it now becomes excessively difficult. Your blood sugar drops off, even with the help of special fluids, which causes headaches. Your stomach, now sitting empty, contains nothing but stomach acid, which at any given point sneaks it's way out of your stomach causing nausea.  Or worse, if you are laying down, re-flux. There is intravenous medication that can be given for this, but it too has it's limits, and it's side effects.

For those who may be as uneducated as myself, apparently your gallbladder, pancreas, and liver all share the same drain into the small intestine.  (Note: This is how it was all explained to me, and while I didn't fact check any of it, it seemed to make sense so I'm going with it.) Apparently, when contorted my body during Thursday's Yoga, I knocked a large stone loose, which my gallbladder then clamped down on causing the extreme pain and a strain on my heart, thus resulting in the wonky (technical term) EKG.  Once it released, the immediate pain was gone, but it then fully blocked the drainage to the small intestine over the next 3 days causing all the enzymes and toxins in the liver to get backed up.  This is what caused the constant (uncomfortable, but bearable) pressure throughout my entire midsection.  Your panaceas also generates enzymes every time you eat/drink something, even water, and therefore all of these enzymes backed up and caused my pancreas to swell like an inflated balloon.

The aforementioned ultra sound did show two stones finally moving, but it wasn't until the MRI was it concluded that they had indeed been free of the drain, and that things would start settling down soon.  Still, food and liquid were off the table in the hopes that the toxins and swelling would come down enough to do surgery.  Compound this with not being excessively mobile, and it was a wonder that I maintained any bit of my perky demeanor.

Tony, Gawd love him, did his best to keep me comfortable.  He packed me a bag from home complete with my bathrobe, jammies, bacon and egg motif slippers, and memory foam pillow. He packed my Kindle, brought me an Amazon gift card to reload with new books, picked up magazines, and even a yellow rose from the gift shop.  But perhaps the best part, he brought my shampoo, conditioners, soaps, and toothbrush from home.  Something about the coconut conditioners made me instantly feel better, and had all the nurses commenting on how good the hall way smelled after my shower. Showers were few and far between, conveniently timed in between IV changes and excessive down time, but they were treasured moments of simplicity among hours of the mundane.

Sure, I could walk around accompanied by my newest best friend, IV(y), but without being able to leave the floor or section of the hospital I was in, it left a lot to be desired.  I spent a lot of time in my room with my roommate, a feisty woman, 18 in leap years, who had landed herself there after trying to skip the line at the airport, falling and cracking a hip. Which, in itself would have been bad enough, but she flew to her destination before arriving at that airport, learning there was no way she could attend her cruise, and having to fly back home alone, to the few family members that didn't attend the vacation.

I had quite a few visitors, my nephew (2) who sat on the end of my bed trying to figure out why the TV was in front of him and the sound came from behind him, my sister and parents, my aunt who came with her own infuriating puzzle that, hours later I still can not solve, and of course, the kids. Wednesday night brought another NASTY nor'easter storm, the lightning from which lit up the room several times over, and setting off the fire alarms at 1 am.  I heard the alarm, and being on my two thousandth bag of fluids I got up to go the bathroom.  Heading out to investigate, I was told not to worry, that it had been tripped by the storm, and even when the Code Red was issued for the first floor, I was sent back to bed.  Just in case, I devised a plan to carry my roommate down the stairs.  She's a tiny thing, and I was thinking jostling her hip to save us both would be worth it.  I told her my plans in the morning, she just laughed at me... as she had slept right through it all.

Thursday morning the surgical team came in, verified my blood work, and assured me I was finally on the docket for surgery.  Tony headed up around 9am and the waiting began.  I was told to expect surgery sometime in the late afternoon, possibly around 5pm. Still, we were hopeful that it would all go smoothly and I'd be in and out before 7pm. And of course, I was not wheeled out of my room until 6:15.  I said my good byes to my room mate, saying I'd likely see her in the morning because at this rate, she'd be long asleep when I got back.

Sporting a Johnny three sizes to big, I headed out on the stretcher down the hall to the OR prep, where a team of nurses, anesthesiologists, and others got all my information.  Each one said they'd be in the room with me, then the next one would say the same, and then the next one, which made us wonder if anyone would be actually in surgery with me.  Which in the end, didn't matter, since I remember getting some Dilaudid, blowing Tony a kiss, and asking why the surgical room's ceiling was white. I told the nurse I thought it should be more of a blue with clouds....

I woke up shaking all over, unable to speak and sore... really sore.  The breathing tube had scratched against the cysts on my thyroid making it painful to swallow, and the oxygen mask made it impossible to talk.  Tony came in, having been briefed by the doctors, and held my hand for a bit before heading home.  Shortly afterwards I was whisked back to my room (about 11pm) where my roommate had waited up for me to return (Gawd love her!)

Around 3 am they gave me some applesauce and water to check my gag reflex which was fine.  By morning I was cleared for solid food and was in pretty good shape.  Tony headed back in about noon, where he found me receiving the last of my fluids, magnesium for my heart, which is incredibly hard on the veins and actually busted my existing IV, so another one needed to be put in and started to finish the last half of the bag.  I said my goodbyes to my roommate who was also being sent to rehab that day, and headed home to pick up the kids from school.

The house was spotless.  Laundry had been done, dishes were put away.  Tony had done an amazing job keeping it all together while I missed an entire week of my life. The kids survived with a lot of help from my parents and an understanding faculty.  The girl next door still hitched a ride to school every day because some things, regardless of circumstance, never change.  I have since talked to my roommate, who is doing well in rehab, but hates being with the "old people" and the lack of TV in her room.  Tony and the kids have been sleeping late, no doubt subconsciously letting go of the stress from the week, and we are slowing getting back to routine.

I am sore, but good. My abdomen is still oddly swollen, and my stomach bandages resemble a sideways big dipper. I can drive and do small things around the house, but no lifting and I get really tired fast.  I'm taking it easy (honest) and counting the blessings I did get for my birthday...

....good friends, great kids, a family that can be counted on for anything, and a husband who loves me when I am at my most unlovable.

Now if I could just get an appointment to follow up with my actual doctor.

But that's an infuriating story for another day.