Home – the long way

Yes, I’m finally home!

With a couple of side trips.

Last night was a strange one. I kept getting nurses coming by, asking if I was ready to go home, pretty much until shift change. I was quite a mess, apparently. I took a selfie after my brother came and left with my daughter, sent it to my family, and even I could see how absolutely grey I was. They were still asking me about going home, though!

Pain levels were pretty much non-existent, unless I tried to move. I had to get help in and out of bed just to go to the washroom. Mostly lifting my legs for me, so that I didn’t strain my abdominal muscles in any way. The big concern is that I might tear an internal stitch.

Then there was my neighbour…

This ward has three recovery beds with just curtains for privacy, plus a bed in an isolation room. I was in the middle of the three curtained beds, and there was one other person who had the same surgery as I did. I know this because I could hear EVERYTHING. Surgical details. Discharge information. Who her transportation was. Several of her phone calls to that person. Then, hearing her throwing up in the bathroom, repeatedly.

She was still discharged, though they did ask if she wanted to stay overnight and she said no. That left me as the only patient on the ward.

Once she was gone, some people came to clear the space, take the sheets, sanitize the mattress, get the space ready for the next person…

Except it was done in small stages. I heard them banging around, then they’d be gone and I thought they were done, until someone else came over. More banging and crashing, then I thought they were done. Then someone ELSE came over, more banging and crashing, and finally they were done. At one point, I heard a woman start banging around, then another joined her and started talking about her… female problems, shall we say. I thought she was another patient at first, because of what she was talking about, only to find she out was staff. I could tell when she started using voice commands to use her phone to call the housekeeping department to come and finish the room.

Then the night nurse came and introduced herself and to do my vitals. She started to adjust the bed for me, then said I could do it myself, and tried to find the control pad. She eventually found it dangling near the floor. It’s supposed to clip into the arm bar, and she did try to put it in place, but it wouldn’t stay. So she left it on the bed beside me.

I was getting regular painkillers, regular vital checks then, at one point, she came with an anti-inflammatory pill, plus an anti-coagulant injection. No one told me I’d be getting these, so I had to ask her about it.

Eventually, things quieted down. I was able to get the bed completely flat (which took a surprising amount of fiddling) and could lie on my side and sleep. A couple of times, I had to call someone to help me get in and out of bed to use the washroom.

Then… something changed.

In the wee hours of the morning, I was able to get in and out of bed on my own, with no issues. Before getting back into bed, I walked back and forth in the hall, with no problems. I kept walking until I felt I was starting to risk overdoing it before going back to bed.

Even with the interruptions for more painkillers and vitals being checked, I actually got some real sleep.

Then breakfast showed up. Scrambled eggs, a hashbrown pattie, a bowl of oatmeal, fresh sliced apple, milk and coffee. It wasn’t as good as supper was, but I couldn’t complain about it, either.

I drank the coffee.

I was reminded why I don’t normally drink coffee. πŸ˜„

I was happy to see the doctor come in during one of my vitals checks. We talked for a while, as I really wanted to know what was going on with the scarring they found, because it couldn’t be from my appendectomy, when I was 12. He said, yes it could. I told him about the cyst I had removed. He asked which side it was on, and I told him they thought it was attached to my left ovary. The scarring was all on my right. Things were stuck to my right ovary. I told him, I had pictures of my cyst (taken after I was inflated, but before it was removed, so you could see quite a lot) and there were no scars. Plus, the pains didn’t start until about 6 months ago.

In the end, we have no idea what happened. He mentioned a few possible causes such as infections and such, but I’ve never had anything like that, that I know of.

They took out scar tissue and some lining I can’t remember the name of which, hopefully, will mean no more pains. It was too dangerous to take out any lymph notes but, by observation, they looked fine. So did my uterus – from the outside. The cancer was all on the inside.

I told the doctor how I was feeling, with some before and after comparisons. When I mentioned that I was able to walk until I finally stopped myself so I wouldn’t over do it, his response was, “there’s no overdoing it.”

…

I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’m notorious for overdoing things. When talking to my daughter about this later, she just laughed and said that he obviously didn’t know me, because I overdo things all the time! πŸ˜„

I got instructions in regards to the five incisions around my abdomen that the robot used to do the hysterectomy. What everyone kept forgetting about was my left arm. Before I was put under, I was told they’d be inserting a line there and told me what it was, but I have no memory of the name. When I woke in recovery, it was pointed out to me and I was told it was an arterial line, so I needed to be extra careful with it.

After the visit with the doctor and the nurse finished doing my vitals, I saw the ball of gauze under tape and asked what sort of care it needed. The nurse wasn’t sure, but said she would find out, then left.

She never came back.

Later, a nurse and student nurse came by to do my final checks and final explanation of things. I got my new prescriptions and an explanation of each one. It included Tylenol, but I’m already on T3s, so I didn’t need to fill those. It was mostly the student nurse doing everything, and she also removed my IV port. I asked about my left arm and she wasn’t sure, so she said she would ask and come back with an answer. They came back to reinforce one of my incisions and I asked again. She had forgotten to find out, apologized and said she would ask and come back.

She never came back.

I was all done by then and could get dressed and leave. I kept my daughter in the loop, since she and my brother were coming to get me. At first, I said I could meet them at the doors, but I was waiting for the student nurse to come back.

I ended up meeting my daughter at the registration desk for the ward, then we headed out.

It was a relatively quite drive to my brother’s and we didn’t stay long. With a long drive ahead, we made sure to use the washroom (the hospital really REALLY wanted me to poop!) and say proper thank you’s and good byes.

Since we had new prescriptions, our first stop was the pharmacy in town. Which meant my daughter could find out about her prescription that didn’t get delivered on Thursday, at the same time. As I reached out with my left arm while talking to the person about getting my new prescriptions, I saw my left arm.

The skin under the clear tape covering the gauze was bright red, with what looked like a red streak heading past the tape, towards my elbow. It was not red like that when I washed my hands at my brother’s, so this happened during the drive. It was also warm under the tape, but not on the skin around it, though that warmth did go away. Meanwhile, because part of the tape was over my wrist, every time I moved my hand, the tape there would twist and roll and was starting to come loose as far as the gauze. There was also a visible bruise under the gauze that looked darker.

The women I was taking to could see it, too, and asked if I wanted the pharmacist to take a look. I said yes, please!

By this time, my daughter had picked up her own prescription and we sat to wait the 20 minutes or so for my prescriptions. The pharmacist came by to take a look, and she seemed concerned. It could be an allergic reaction to the tape (I’ve never reacted to medical tape before, and it wasn’t on any of my abdominal incisions), or it could be the start of an infection. She recommended I go to the hospital to get it checked.

Better safe than sorry with something like this!

So we waited until I got my meds, which turned out to be completely covered. I got an anti-inflammatory, and something to protect my stomach from it. Not the same ones I took before that seems to have started all this. I was also given a non-prescription laxative, because these meds can cause constipation; so can the T3s I’m taking. They REALLY want me to poop!

That done, we paid for our stuff then headed for the ER.

I’m pretty sure the admissions clerk recognized us.

I showed her the redness and said I needed it checked, and that I’d just had surgery yesterday. As she asked more questions, I told her I’d had a full hysterectomy.

She looked at me in shock, saying “and you’re out already??” I told her, they wanted to send me home yesterday! She just shook her head in amazement.

Then, while the paperwork was still being done (and she cut off the city hospital bracelet to put on a new bracelet for this hospital), a nurse came by to see who was next to be brought in, and she was told about my arm. She took a look, we talked for a bit, and she ended up taking a picture to show the doctor. She was back before the paperwork was done, saying the doctor thought it might be an allergic reaction, but she would take a closer look when it was my turn.

We didn’t have very long to wait.

It was the same doctor I saw the other two times I was at the ER!

She remembered us.

I ended up telling her about the hysterectomy, the endometrial cancer, and the scarring they found, which would explain the pain she’s treated me twice before. The nurse was there was well, and both of them were looking at me, saying “I can’t believe you’re out already!”

After looking at my arm, she told me she’d have to take the tape off, and I said that I expected it. Between the redness and the bruising, I expected at least a big dark bruise under the gauze.

It’s hard to see in the first image above, but under the tape was quite red, and there’s a swoosh of red on the elbow side. There was some concern about removing the tape and gauze from an arterial line, but when they took everything off, it all looked really good! You can see that in the next image. The bruising turned out to only follow a vein. The site itself just looks like a little vampire bit, and was completely clean and clear.

Since I had no reaction to any other tape on me, their best guess was that I was reacting to whatever was used to sanitize the area before the line was put in. The nurse said a name, but I can’t remember what it was.

It looked so good, they saw no need to do anything to it. I just got a button bandage to cover the two little pokes.

Then I suggested, maybe my IV site needed to be done, too. The student nurse had a hard time with it, and the gauze under the tape (not a waterproof tape, like on my left arm) was saturated with blood that had already dried hard. They took the tape off and…

It looked fine. I just got another button bandage on it, just in case.

They were quite happy with how it all turned out.

I got instructions on what to look out for, and what to do if the redness got worse instead of better, and then we could go. My daughter went to bring the truck around while I updated the family. I was just heading out the doors when the nurse and doctor came back and caught me. The doctor wanted to give me a tube of allergy cream to use on my arm, if the redness got worse, so we wouldn’t have to go back to the pharmacy.

That was so sweet of her!

After that, we could FINALLY go home!

Through all this, I was doing really well. Obviously, there’s internal pain, which is a bit more extended because of all the scar tissue they had to deal with. It means having a full bladder hurts, having gas hurts, and eliminating hurts. Moving around, shifting, bumps on the road, all can hurt, but the pain is limited to just the surgical areas. I’m not feeling other pain. I’m not feeling sick or dizzy. All the long list of things to watch out for has not been an issue. Just localized pain directly related to the surgery.

I kept hearing from the family, how much better I was looking, too! I’m no longer grey, for starters.

Which means I’m going to really have to watch out. I feel “too” good, and it would be way too easy for me to … well… overdo things, regardless of what the doctor says!

I will have to sleep on the couch, though. In the cat free zone. The cats have a habit of parkouring off my belly at times, and I certainly can’t have that happen!! I’m not sure how well that will work, as the couch is quite low and hard to get up from. Not much choice in the matter!

So we are now home and I am in my 6 week recovery period. I’ll be getting a letter in the mail with my 4 week follow up appointment with the doctor. He’ll have the pathology results by then, which will tell him what stage the cancer was at. Once we have that information, we can know what needs to be done next, if anything, other than monitoring.

I’m also banned from driving for the next 2-3 weeks. No to using power tools or machinery. No to making any legal decisions. No to lifting anything more than 10 pounds.

Which means I’m going to have to get a lot of stuff done through my daughters. Normally, I focus on the outside stuff, they focus more on the inside stuff. Now, I can’t do any of it. So my daughters are going to do all the winterizing and finishing off with the garden, cleaning up and preparing beds and putting things away for the winter.

With all the haskaps we’ve got planted, my daughter and I have decided we should plant flower seeds in the loose soil around them now, so they’ll come up in the spring. My daughter also wants to plant a few more of the haskaps that are left in the little pots. We’ve got some warmer days for the next while, so it’ll be perfect for that.

Which reminds me. A few days ago, my SIL sent me a screen cap of a “this many years ago today” photo that showed up for her on Oct. 13. It was of my late father, sitting in his walker by the house, in the area in front of the old basement window. All around him was bright green grass. The picture was taken on Oct. 13, 2014. The last time we saw my father was a Thanksgiving road trip in 2015, another mild fall. We’re having another mild fall now. Talking to my brother on Thursday evening, he well remembers years when we had to make our Halloween costumes over snow suits, and my parents driving us in blizzards to houses to shout, “Halloween Apples” (we didn’t shout “trick or treat”, because that was mean).

I’m quite appreciating our mild weather, and we are expecting a mild winter, too, thanks to that Super El NiΕ„o. Here’s hoping!

A mild winter will also make it easier on all of us, health wise, too.

So, that’s where we are at now.

Time to settle in and focus on recovery.

The Re-Farmer

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