Still The Worst Time of My Life

I’ve been back in the hospital since Friday morning with complications from the surgery. Essentially, the necrotic (sp?) appendix has caused further complications, problems that most people don’t have during such a routine operation. Because of the disease, my organ tissues are sensitive, and because the appendix stayed in my body for so long being so rotten, my bowels have simply stopped working.

Graphic, I know.

1. We came back into the hospital on Friday morning after I threw up on Thursday night and then again in the AM. My body was retaining so much water that my legs were three times their normal size and my scars were so swollen and bloated they were poking out of my legs.

2. Unlike the first hellish visit, we managed to see a doctor after about an hour. They put a tube up my nose and down into my stomach because while sitting on the bed, I “projectile vomited” (as the RRHB) said pure green bile. Seriously, it looked like grass.

3. The NG tube started to suck up everything left over in my stomach: essentially any and everything I hadn’t already thrown up based on two days of eating “normally” out of the hospital.

4. They need to give my bowel a rest, which means no food or water. That’s been since Friday. It’s now Tuesday.

5. The doctors keep saying to be patient, that it’ll rectify itself and get better but we’re still here waiting for my bowels to work.

6. First it was 24-36 hours, then Tuesday at the latest and now they just don’t know. More tests today, I guess.

7. The surgeon who came in this morning said that he’s not surprised there are these complications. I asked him, “but I am going to get better, right?” Yes, was the definitive answer but I can’t say that I am not terrified every single moment I am spending in this hospital.

8.They’re desperately trying to avoid more surgery, which I can understand. I don’t want more surgery. But I also wish that everything with my health wasn’t so bloody complicated.

9. Lessons in it can always get worse, I suppose. And we’re clinging to the positives. Piles of gas in my belly means pain but also that things are working, but not completely. Piles of antibiotics means that they are killing the infection but also my poor tummy. There will be a lot of restorative yoga and healthy eating when I get out of here.

10. Still a rotten way to spend a birthday if you ask me.