A loud buzzing noise, repeated beeps in my ear, pain like a red-hot poker, suffocation. These are the things I remember upon waking up from my surgery. It’s mostly a little fuzzy, but I do remember repeatedly trying to pull the oxygen mask off of my face and the nurse putting it back on and telling me I needed it. I just remember the feeling of not being able to breathe even though there was oxygen being pushed into my lungs from the mask.
The nurse finally took it off of me after making sure I was more awake. The next thing I remember was more pain. My head was pounding like I had a tiny little jack hammer on top trying to split it in half. My stomach hurt every time I tried to move. I knew I would hurt, I was not prepared for my whole body to hurt. I felt like I was being ripped open by a red-hot knife. I must’ve moaned out loud because before I knew it the nurse was giving me a shot and then I didn’t remember anything again for the next little while.
When I woke up again my brother and my aunt were sitting with me in the recovery room. I was still a little out of it, so things are fuzzy. I remember them asking me how I felt. I don’t remember really what my reply was. I remember trying to scoot myself up in bed and feeling like I was being ripped in half like an old raggedy doll being ripped apart by some malicious child. My brother snapped this lovely reminder:
I have no idea what was going on in this picture or exactly what I was looking for.
Soon I was wheeled to my room. Since they performed my surgery via laparotomy (cutting me open like a C-section) instead of laprascopically (only putting a few tiny holes in my abdomen), I had to stay to be observed. My room was nice. It was private and I did not have a roommate. Apparently that’s the norm for the hospital I was in. I liked that I didn’t have a roommate. I have enough trouble sleeping in strange places without having to listen to someone else making noise from the bed next to me.
My brother took off to go pick his fiancé up from work, and my aunt had left before they taken me to my room. I was soon alone with just the beeping from the machines to keep me company. I had everything I needed at my fingertips. The controller worked the bed, the television,, and the lights. In turn the television controlled the temperature of the room. I thought that was pretty cool, that I could make it as hot or cold as I wanted. I’m generally a warmer than average person anyway so I cranked it down to like 74.
Every 15 minutes or so (it seemed like) someone would come and check my vitals, look at my machines, scan my bar code (of course) and ask if I needed anything. I was really very thirsty so I kept asking for ice water. It was the good ice too. The little nuggets that are simply lovely to chew on. I couldn’t get enough. I felt like I had cotton shoved in my mouth and no matter how much water I drank, it did nothing to alleviate that feeling.
My very best friend in the whole wide world stopped by to visit me. I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like, but we’ve still remained friends through thick and thin (and now they’ve moved across the state practically so I will get to see even less of her). I was so happy to see a familiar face. Unfortunately they came in and gave me a shot somewhere through the half-way point of her visit. (She says) I started saying some odd things like some business about my tongue being numb, and some other things I don’t quite remember. She left quickly after that because my eyelids started getting heavy. I swear I was managing it, but apparently when she called me on it I informed her that I wasn’t sleeping, but it was taking me a really long time to blink (or something to that effect. She says).
I dozed off and on through the evening. My brother and his beautiful fiancé Kiearstan came to visit. They grabbed some food from the cafeteria and hung out for a while. They had given me some delicious Jell-o (there’s always room for Jell-o!) and some clear broth earlier. I didn’t eat much of either because I just wasn’t hungry. I had no desire to eat anything. I just wanted more water.
During Michael and Kiearstan’s visit they brought me a dinner tray with some ham and potatoes and a roll on it. My brother was subtly prodding me to try to eat something, so I tried a bite of ham. It got stuck in my throat because my mouth was still so dry and I ended up choking. Oh boy did that hurt! I tried so hard to stop coughing and I just couldn’t stop because the ham was still stuck. My brother immediately jumped up and was trying to help. He was mostly just dancing around my bed because there was really nothing he could do but give me water until I could get the offending piece of pork wet enough to just slide down my throat. Needless to say I was finished with food after that. I wanted to die it hurt so bad.
Soon after that my brother and Kiearstan left, leaving me with a cute teddy bear that I named Over-bear (after my overbearing little brother-haha). I was granted another shot after a disapproving look from my nurse at my still-full dinner tray. I explained about the choking and the dry-mouth and told him (yes, him-and he was adorable too!) that frankly I just wasn’t hungry still.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of visits from more friends who brought me some very fun things to do during my recovery, visits from the nurses (shift-change occurred around 7pm), and noises from the hospital waking me up every so often. Needless to say the next day I was cranky and out-of-sorts from lack of sleep and pain.
I was frustrated because I still had not seen a doctor since my surgery. I wanted to know when I was allowed to go home! My doctor had told me it would be anywhere from 2-4 days, but my cousin had the same surgery and was able to go home the next day! That’s what I was trying to shoot for.
My first full-day post-surgery consisted of about six hours of Indiana Jones movies, getting up and walking around the hall with some of my favorite people (visitors not nurses-just to be clear), dozing off and on, and wanting to go home.
Finally the doctor who was making rounds came by and examined me. She told me if I could keep down solid food (still had not eaten very much) and tolerate an actual pain pill instead of a shot, I could go home that evening! I so very badly wanted that to happen!
Finally around 6pm I was granted my leave! I called my brother to come and get me as he would be staying the night with me. While I waited for him, I packed up as best I could, and attempted to put on some clothes. It was quite painful and I got a first look of my stomach. I was not prepared for what I saw. I knew what my scar would look like because I had seen my cousins, but I didn’t see it so soon after her surgery.
The scar ran along my bikini line and pretty much went from one end of my stomach to the other. I was super swollen and looked deformed. I was bruised severely too. I definitely looked as if I had major surgery done! I didn’t want to look at it anymore because frankly it grossed me out. I quickly tried to pull on my sweat pants (quick was not actually possible due to the pain).
Soon my brother was there and I was able to leave! I had a little anxiety about not being surrounded by medical staff. With my bad lungs I had been having a hard time breathing, and trying to cough all of that anesthesia out of my lungs was out of the question. I brought the little plastic thing they gave me to blow in though. That was supposed to help get the crap out of my lungs and prevent me from getting pneumonia from sitting for so long.
Of course they had to wheel me out in the wheel chair (no walking for me!) Scanned my bar code, one last time, and I was able to slowly try to slide into my brother’s car. The ride home was not pleasant. Even though I had him bring me a pillow and I was using Over-bear to press against my stomach, I felt every little bump of the road. It wasn’t my brother’s fault. He was doing his best to avoid bumps he saw and was driving very cautiously. Apparently our roads are just bumpy and we are not normally aware of it.
I was glad to be home. I was exhausted and starting to hurt, but glad nonetheless. I slowly climbed the stairs to my bedroom (so, so painful) and stood next to my bed looking at it. It was a new bed for me (I had purchased it the month before). It looked so comfy I just wanted to crawl right in.
I had tried to think of everything I would need, so I wouldn’t have to get in or out of bed, or bother anyone to come help me so I had it set up and ready to go. The one thing I had not thought about, was how high my bed actually is. It took me a full five minutes of thinking about how I was going to get into it before I just decided to go for it and do my best. Eventually I managed to get in and had a nice sleep for the whole night!
The next few days bled into one another: I would flop like a fish to get out of bed, stand straight for 2 minutes for the pain and dizziness to go away, make my way slowly downstairs to sit in a chair for a few hours, and then make my way back up the stairs to go back to sleep. Luckily I had these two to keep me company:
Did I mention I found a kitten outside one night before the end of the school year? She was so little we took her in. We didn’t know if she was a boy or girl because she was so young, so I named her Sammy (good name for a boy or girl!). We have since found out she is indeed a girl. She adopted us! I love having the worlds coolest dog (Harley) and now a cute kitty around! Harley is a very intuitive dog. She always knows when I’m sad or hurting and she will come lay by me. Animals really and truly are therapeutic.
Sammy and Over-bear
My doctor called me the first Tuesday after I was home to check on me and let me know her findings. She had spoken with my brother and aunt after the surgery but both of their stories were different, so I didn’t know which to believe. She did confirm that I had one very large cyst, over 10cm at last measurement, instead of the two they thought after my last ultrasound. She gave me a souvenir photo as well. I’m kind of oddly fascinated by it. It looks like a big golden ball!
Then she said something that surprised me. She said they found a tumor in my left fallopian tube. I had to have her spell it for me but she said it was called a serous cystadenofibroma. She said that it was benign which immediately made me feel more at ease since hearing the word “tumor” had put my mind in overdrive. They did remove all of the tumor, as well as my left fallopian tube and part of my ovary. Apparently my ovaries “kiss” which means they are pretty much stuck together so they left the majority of the left one attached to the good ovary.
Immediately after I got off of the phone with her, I Googled “serous cystadenofibroma”. Everything I read seemed to be mainly from journals of medicine or pathology reports. The thing that I found most interesting is that the majority of the things I read said it was a relatively rare tumor. My doctor did not say one way or the other if this increased my risk of getting another one or what caused it in the first place. She said these things just happen sometimes. Good to know my body is working for me and not against me right?
She did tell me once I am fully healed, I will hopefully be noticing a drop-off of my stomach issues. I hope she is right! I will be able to tell once I fully get back into the running groove!
I was very frustrated with my recovery. I felt like I should be feeling better after a few weeks. Instead I was feeling worse! The best description of my pain that I could come up with was that it felt like I had a piece of glass inside my abdomen and it was rubbing against something every time I moved. I did not have external stitches (thankfully they had used surgical glue), but I did have internal ones. My doctor informed me that could have been me feeling the knot from the internal sutures, or the soreness from having had the cyst, tumor, and tube removed from that side, or just soreness from my muscles that had been cut, trying to repair themselves. Whatever the explanation I was miserable!
To this day (almost 3 and a half months later) I still have pain when I press on my stomach. I still have a lot of swelling in that area and my scar is a very angry red color. Apparently these things are all a normal part of recovery. My body is still trying to regulate itself, and I’m still trying to heal, so I guess only time will tell. I am grateful that I only ended up with one cyst instead of two, and grateful that even though I did have a tumor it was not cancerous. Things could have been a lot worse so I shouldn’t complain too much.
I just still get frustrated that I am not 100% yet. I feel like I should be back to where I was before the surgery (minus all the stuff that was causing my issues). I am frustrated that I feel like I am having to start over at square one in terms of my stamina and strength. I was not allowed to do anything for two months. I put on some weight due to inactivity and admittedly eating like crap; and I am for sure not happy about that. I want to be running like I was pre-surgery. I don’t want to have to start over and be slow again!
I know now that I am whining. It’s time to suck it up, put on my big girl panties, stop making excuses and get in charge of myself again. I had no control over what happened and my recovery, but I can control how I come back from it. It’s time to get off of my ass and do it!
Runs Through Sprinklers 