Magnificence

DECEMBER 5, 2011 - FIFTY EIGHT DAYS POST OP

I’m currently packing a bag to go to the hospital tomorrow for the last time. I get the nephrostomy tube out and then I’m home free! I am SO excited. Well, it turns out that I did, in fact, go to the ER the last time I wrote. It was around midnight and the pain had grown so bad that I could hardly talk or walk out to the car. Mom said since it was midnight, Dad’s birthday was officially over and she would not longer keep putting things off (even though I was the one to go to their room and say I wanted to go to the ER. Actually, now that I remember, it was Megan, but the decision was mine).Turns out I had a massive bladder infection coupled with a UTI. They took out the foley and pumped me full of Rocephin, Dilauded, and Zophran and then sent me home around five or six in the morning. I pulled my first all-nighter! It wasn’t quite as fun as I wanted it to be though. Ha ha. My eyes were so puffy the next morning but words can’t describe how much better I felt. 

The following Monday, I had the stent removed. It didn’t hurt at all, although the Demerol and antibiotic shots in my rear did. I totally related to a friend’s affectionate name of “Rambo Nurse” as I bent over the table. But it’s one more experience I can say that I had. Apparently I was  pretty loopy afterwards too. I was stumbling through the halls, pushing the valet guy out of the way to get in the car, and fussing at Mom on the way home. The weird thing was, I was conscious of all of it, but for some reason I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was almost worse than not being aware of what I was doing. My brain kept shouting for me to stop acting like an idiot, but my body wasn’t paying ANY attention at all. Of course, after the six hour nap, I apologized for all of it. Mom only laughed and said something along the lines of she “enjoyed the entertainment”. Good times.

It’s been interesting looking back on this and somehow remembering the small moments of fun that broke through the dark clouds of this experience. I remember so well the nightmares and the pain, the nausea, vomiting, sweating, headaches, back aches, fevers, frustration, anger, depression and confusion; being poked, prodded, and nudged by people I don’t know, being bathed by people I do know, the embarrassment, and all the insecurity that came along with this mess. But somehow more than that, I remember the visits, the home-cooked meals, hanging out with Steve-Pa and Grand-Patti, staying up watching House Hunters until I fell asleep, talking with Mom at four every morning while she put lotion on my back or patted my head with a cold cloth that only she knew how to prepare correctly, walking through the Garden of Hope outside the hospital (or the “Weeds of Hope” as Mom so affectionately named it), coloring with Emily and Alyssa, playing cards with Layna and Catherine, sitting on my back patio petting Sadie and talking nonsense with Wesley and Alex, getting a hug and a CD from Jake Hamilton, eating a whole delicious steak that my amazing Dad got me to feed my cravings, getting a Dairy Queen dipped cone and listening to country music with Dad to distract my body from the Dilauded withdrawals, and the list goes on and on. I choose to remember the good. I choose to believe that God is continually making my life beautiful no matter what the world brings. I choose to celebrate over every single small step, every inch, every sign of forward movement. God deserves praise for everything. Every single act of God is a huge deal. Nothing is insignificant. 

Well, I do have to get up at five fifteen tomorrow morning because I’m interventional radiology’s first case, so I will write more later when I have more. The name of the Lord be praised. 

JANUARY 22, 2014 - PROCEDURE DAY!

I am now sitting in the same chair I sat in two years ago when I was waiting for a CT with contrast (that I actually didn’t end up getting done) in Shands radiology. Only this time I’m waiting for an actual procedure. I’m having my needle aspiration plus/minus ablation of my diverticulum/cyst. I’m not nervous at all, except that I’m worried we’re in the wrong waiting room, ha ha. I’m just ready to get in a bed and then I’ll feel better...

Well, turns out I was in the right waiting room after all. Mom and I were both getting nervous and decided to walk to the other waiting room just to see. We didn’t even make it past the front desk of the one we were in and the receptionist called us over to put a hospital band on me and tell us they were ready for me. We went straight to holding and got in a bed. Then waited for several hours which is always the worst part. Finally they took me back to the radiology room and got me all set up, then Dr. Voegel was apparently caught in another case so they unhooked me from everything and took me back to holding. By that time, Mom and Dad and Megan had already left to go find some coffee. And they took everything with them. So I sat for about thirty minutes singing in my mind, ha ha. Down the row from me in the line of beds was an older gentleman and his wife. She kept staring at me, sitting alone in that bed. I smiled at her so she wouldn’t think I was sad or hurting. I do have a family and they aren’t terrible for leaving me! I thought in her direction. They didn’t know! But she kept staring at me with furrowed eyebrows anyways. I watched the nurse next to me at the nurse’s station make phone calls and try to find my doctor. She was the same nurse who helped me when I went into shock the first time I had a CT here. And she remembered that it was Mom’s birthday that day and Bethany was there too. Boy, do I have a history with these people. Finally, Dr. Voegal was free and they rushed me back to the procedure room so I could be next. They had me on my stomach with my hands above my head and blankets tucked around me. It was actually more comfortable than any other procedure I’ve had done (except maybe when I went under general anesthesia, ha ha). I fought the sedation this time though because I wanted to be aware of all of it. It was really cool and I wanted to learn. The adhesive grid they tried to stick to my back was too big and wouldn’t stick so Dr. Voegal pulled a paperclip out of his pocket and taped it to my back. He said, “Oh yeah, we’re real high tech around here.” I laughed because it sounds like something we would come up with in the lab too. He took a picture with the paperclip on and then pulled me out and drew some marks on my back to know where to go in. I felt when he gave me the lidocaine, but it wasn’t bad at all. Then I felt pressure when he was putting the needle in, but again it wasn’t terrible. It was weird when they put me back in to take a picture and I could feel fluid running down my side. I wonder if that’s how our patients feel when our doctors are a little messy. But before I knew it he had pulled fluid out and he stuck the syringe in front of my face. “What does this look like to you?” He asked. Urine. It looked like urine. “Do you think it might be serous fluid?” I asked, trying to be hopeful. He shook his head. “It looks like urine to me.” Then he injected Gadolinium contrast in the pocket and they had me roll up on one side and then the other so that it would flow into my ureters if the pocket was connected. Then they took a picture. According to the picture they couldn’t see where it would be connected, but because of the fluid, he still didn’t ablate it. I remember feeling like I wanted to cry because he wouldn’t ablate it. I don’t think I really understood even though he tried to explain and said he was sorry I was disappointed. It was just the drugs getting in the way though because when I woke up after dosing off several times in the holding room I remembered what he said with clarity and wasn’t upset at him anymore. I had a little pain afterwards and they gave me 2mg of morphine, which my body just laughed at after being back on Dilauded. They let me take one of my own pills which usually take about an hour to kick in, but it wasn’t a pain that I couldn’t bear so I didn’t ask for any more. Shortly after they woke me up and asked if I wanted to go home. Of course! So we got me dressed and then went to Sonny’s for wings. And of course I slept for the rest of the day. I’ve been sore since, but it hasn’t been terrible. No spasms or anything. It was an easy procedure. Praise the Lord! 

I kind of had a moment the other day because I think it hit me what I'm about to go through and I suddenly decided that I don't want to. But I talked to Alex for a bit and it made me feel better. I know what I'm in for, maybe not every detail, but for the most part. At least I won't be disappointed every day when I'm not allowed to go home from the hospital or when I have to have another drain placed. And I know if I made it through before and felt good afterwards, I'll make it through again and be back to normal before I know it. And I know I have plenty of people surrounding me who will be there no matter what and who will love me. No matter how isolated this makes me feel at times, I have to remind myself that's not really true. Like I said two years ago, going through things like this sift out your relationships and you learn who's only there when it's good, who only pops out of the woodworks when it's bad, and who will be there for both. I don't mind people who come out of the woodworks to help if they truly are in it to help. Some people's ministry is just to help those in need whenever or wherever they are. And when I'm in need they show up. But the people who truly speak to me, who truly touch me, who truly heal me, are those who are always there. There are just those people who I could call, text, or go out with at a moments notice. And they make me feel better than anyone else. And not to downplay the others who help, but I feel like to whoever may read this one day, I need to honor those people who are always there. My family is there no matter what. Mom probably gets me more than anyone else in the world and she always tells me what I need to hear, which is the truth. No matter what's going on, she always makes it work so that she can be there for me. She has stayed with me in the hospital every time, even the 14 days in a row that I stayed after surgery. For some odd reason I would wake up at four every morning and ask her to put lotion on me (my skin was really dry and sore because of fever). She would always get up and do it for me no matter how tired she was and we would sit up talking about life until I fell back asleep. Those were my favorite moments... and although she jokes that we value those moments at four in the morning entirely differently, she always gets serious right after and says that she loved bonding with me. She knew when I was hallucinating and she was the only one I believed when she said she was real. She and I both dream very lucidly, so even in my crazy state of mind I understood that she knew what she was talking about. We share a brain, although I'm pretty sure most of the time she has the bigger half.

Dad is always the comforter. I know he hates to see me hurt and he dreams about my destiny just as much as I do. He takes me out for chocolate milkshake breaks when I just can't stand it anymore and need a distraction. He makes me laugh even in the midst of tears (NO ONE CAN MAKE HIS SOUND EFFECTS!!!). Bethany still calls and talks every time I have something done even though she's busier than I am (and that's saying a lot!). Megan dances for me or just leaves crazy messages on my phone and somehow she always knows the exact times I need them. She and Bethany both left to go out of town about half way through my hospital stay and all of us were in tears. Alyssa always comes and crawls up on my bed just to sit so I'm not by myself. She even did the same thing in the hospital, playing cards or filling out coloring books with me as entertainment. All I have to say to Layna or Catherine is "Hey so... I like you..." and I know I'll be on my way to an ice cream date complete with the Jonas Brothers (or some other outrageous selection of music) within a matter of minutes. They came to the hospital every day (and paid for that crazy parking) even when I was sleeping just to be there... and empty my foley (so proud of you, Layna... I know it's totally not your thing). I know I can text Alex at any time of day (and tell him just about anything, too) and he will always text me back with a solution or a prayer even if he was sleeping. He will always be my greatest opponent in our wii "couch bowling" tournaments. In short, these people have been with me for a long, long time. They've seen me at my worst and I've seen them at their best. They will always be magnificent to me. Thank you.