Many of you already know that on February 25 I had surgery. It was not a planned occasion, but resembling more of an "urgently necessary" issue. Let me tell you the story….
It all started with bronchitis. I caught a cold that quickly progressed into a rattling chest cough and wheezy breathing. Neither are fun. I went to the doctor, they prescribe a z-pack, prednisone (a steroid to help my lungs clear up) and some codeine cough syrup. I thought we were all done. A few days passed and I started to feel better….but noticed that in one of the "girls" there was some swelling and tenderness. Now I used to have a piercing in that area that I got in January, so I didn't think too much of it at the time, as it was still healing, so no big thing, right? Well 2 days after I finished the z-pack and the prednisone, it was as if I had a rather large balloon inside my shirt. I quickly called the doctor back and saw the nurse practitioner who diagnosed it as mastitis, to which my response was, "Isn't that reserved for pregnant/nursing mothers?" Her response was no, that it can happen in any woman. So she prescribed some antibiotic for 10 days with the instruction that after 5 I was to call in to let her know if it was working.
After 5 days, it wasn't getting worse as far as size goes, but the tenderness to ANY kind of touch/pressure and pain was unbearable. I called the office back, they called me back within 10 minutes and informed me that they spoke with my doctor who prescribed a different kind of antibiotic and some painkiller, with additional instructions to take these for 2 days and call in, because if it wasn't working, I would have to go in. You guessed it, it didn't help. So on Thursday, February 25, I left my office at 10:45 to go to the doctor. I arrived, checked in, was ushered in fairly quickly and they took my bp. It was a little high, but considering the pain I was in, I wasn't concerned. They gave me a gown and I put it on and waited.
Across the hall was another room with a wailing baby in it. I have no idea what was going on, but when my doctor arrived in my room, I ensured him I wasn't going to cry like that. He laughed and then proceeded to look at "Wilma," as someone very close to me calls her. I have never seen my doctor shocked, but his comment was a little bit unsettling.
"Well…….that's spectacular."
I almost laughed (almost), because I thought of the song from Moulin Rouge.
Spectacular, Spectacular
No words in the vernacular
Can't describe this great event
You'll be dumb with wonderment
So exciting
The audience will stomp and cheer
So delighting
It will run for fifty years
What do you say to that? I was speechless, which continued for a while, as he explained that he was going to send me for an I & D (Incision & Drainage) at a surgeon's office. Imagine my excitement. It wasn't so spectacular anymore. So the nurse left, called the office and I re-dressed and hustled out to the surgeon's office.
I arrived, then had to fill out this 3 page medical history form where I had to GUESS when I had chicken pox, various immunizations, etc. All while my heart is pounding and my blood pressure is creeping up.
The nurse came out to get me, had me put on a gown then proceeded to take my blood pressure 4 times. As you can imagine, it just kept creeping upward until I just had to say, "maybe we shouldn't take it again." That stopped it.
The surgeon came in as I was laying on the table/chair thing and looked at me a moment, checked out Wilma and then said to the nurse, "Can you get me a hollow 20-gauge needle please?" I nearly passed out and he hadn't done anything! He then stuck Wilma with it and pulled out infection. I almost punched him, but he moved when he saw my hand clench into a fist and my knuckles popped.
His next statement was, "I can't do this here. There is too much infection. I'm going to have to do it in an operating room. What it will involve is me cutting a chunk of you out, then removing the infection."
Being me, with my now skyrocketing blood pressure and all this anxiety, burst into tears. I had never had surgery and was a little freaked out.
So I got dressed and was sent straight to the hospital where I checked in and waited. My phone was rapidly running out of power because of all the texts and phone calls to people that had to be made. Dad showed up shortly thereafter and then I was shuttled into the "pre-op" room. Once I was all iv'd up and ready to wait, he came in and we watched the Olympics until he had to go get Makenna.
The anesthesiologist came in and we talked about the procedure for anesthesia with the breathing tube, etc.. I explained that I was terribly anxious and shortly thereafter, got a sedative to calm me down. They then took me into the OR. 4:23 is the time they marked on the board as I went in there. I moved myself onto a hard metal table while they stuck all these monitors on me and then received my lovely oxygen mask. I took 2 deep breaths, then they put the medicine in and I was done.
I woke up in recovery feeling no pain. I was overjoyed. For a while.
What they didn't warn me about was that because of the size of the infection (a softball), it left a rather large cavity inside me, so they packed the wound with saline-saturated gauze, then bandage me up. The next morning, they would come in and remove it and repack it. The idea is that the tissue inside had to grow back together by itself and then it would close the hole up in the end. This packing process has continued with daily visits to the doctor (even on weekends). It is not pleasant, but the wound is healing. In the beginning, they were using ¾ of a roll of gauze. I'm down to 2 inches now. A roll is 2 inches wide by 4 yards. Yes, friends, they were initially packing me up with 9 feet of gauze. So a little 2x2 square now is nothing. However the thought of 9 feet of gauze is still astounding to me.
Hopefully within a week or so, the hole will close up. It's actually been sort of interesting to go from a gaping hole to something so close to closing without stitches, etc. I will have a scar and be deformed, but as I told Wendy, I'd rather have a deformed Wilma than just Betty alone.
Anyway, there's the story. It's not exactly exciting, but on the upside, I did have a cute male nurse. Silver linings, right?
Spectacular, Spectacular
No words in the vernacular
Can't describe this great event
You'll be dumb with wonderment
So exciting
The audience will stomp and cheer
So delighting
It will run for fifty years
Until next time, dear friends.
