Welp... It's been 3 days since the day I had surgery. I'm tired, and my belly (i.e. lower intestines) is rumbling like its trying to wake the dead.

We are at our final resting place until I get discharged. A nice studio condo thing with a pull out bed, kitchen for one and a breakfast nook. The bathroom is large, and there is one wall closet, a small closet and drawers on either side of the pull out, and a closet in the bathroom as well. Plenty of space. My mom is still with us and she's currently out for a walk.

Where should I begin?

I guess I will start with Wednesday, the day I went in for surgery. Woke up conveniently 10 minutes before the alarm from Keith's snoring, went to the bathroom, concentrated on not drinking any water while I brushed my teeth and then roused Keith and my mom. Everyone but me took a quick shower (I had taken a shower the night before with Hibiclens, the same stuff they use to scrub in before surgery and was told not to shower in the morning). Mom fluttered nervously around in the kitchen trying to bring everything she owned and I stood there watching her for a minute before I told her to slow down, that everything was okay. She smiled sheepishly and stopped, and then we were off. I had packed a few toiletries and no clothes and picked out some super comfy non-constricting clothes to wear. Black velvet elastic waist pants, black 3/4 sleeve top and stretchy chonies and bra. I slid into some sandals on our way out the door.

I drove us to the hospital, figuring it would be my last chance for a while. We got to Same Day Surgery just in time and checked in. They took me almost immediately and when I started to hug everyone good bye the nurse informed us that they would get to see me before I went in. I changed my street clothes for a large comfy hospital gown (big girl sized with room to spare), and they put silly blue paper shoes on my feet. The nurse who was helping me looked like she had just rolled out of bed and when I commented that she looked tired she said she had woken up 2 minutes before it was time to leave for work. "I'll be awake in an hour" she said. Thankfully she just did the weigh in, and not the IV. The IV nurse took 3 tries. She could see my veins, but couldn't "thread" the needle into the vein and apologized about 20 times in the process. She asked my permission to give it one more shot before she gave up and asked someone else and I said okay. Third time was a charm and I was hooked up. After that Keith and my mom came in and we sat there and chatted. Keith was sleepy but I was wide awake, nervous, but feeling cool. After a while I had to go pee, and thought maybe I should wait, but soon enough it wouldn't wait and I pressed the call button. The nurse said "Let me guess, you need to use the potty?" I was surprised when they led me over to the bathroom to find a measuring container with my name on it in the toilet bowl. They measure everything going in, and coming out of you while you are in. By the time I got back to my bed it was around 6am and they told me to say my goodbyes. We all hugged and kissed and they wheeled me into another room. It was pre-op. I saw a few nurses come and go, they explained about the surgery, what to expect, how the OR would be cold to keep the docs comfy and to keep bacteria down.. They basically spelled out everything I could expect over the next few minutes. The Anesthesiologist came to see me, and it wasn't the guy with the cold clammy handshake, although I had seen him go by a few times. This guy was really nice and asked me a few questions, talked to me about the surgery and his role, etc. A few minutes later he gave me some pre-op medicine to relax me, and it hit almost immediately. I felt spacey and a little disconnected. Reggie wheeled me into the OR and they inflated this mat thing I was laying on and slid me over onto the operating table. I looked around a bit, at the machines and the ceiling and then they put the mask over my face and I was out.

I woke up in my room around 1pm, after they had moved me from the table to my BariKare bed. I remember thinking about the intibation tube and thanking my lucky stars it was out of my throat and not still there. One of the ladies I talked to mentioned that when she woke up, the tube was still in her throat and it was really uncomfortable. I was wondering where Keith and my Mom were and was in and out for a while before I saw them. I didn't feel any pain that I remember, just felt.. odd. I could feel the spots on my belly that were stapled closed. They did vitals, blood pressure, temp, I had an IV in my arm with a PCA button on my chest for dispensing pain killers for myself. I also had a pulse/oxygen meter on my left index finger for measuring the amount of oxygen in my blood. Still not really sure how that one worked since it was completely non-invasive. I was on this craftmatic adjustable bed from hell. It was really nice. Half-propped up with a pillow under each elbow and one on my belly. Mom and Keith came in around 1:30pm or so and they described how they had started to worry after 4 hours and no word. The docs had let us know before hand that it would take about 4 hours before they would hear anything, but it was about 6 before they got to see me, so they were pretty worried. Anyway, we visited a bit and I dozed in and out. I used the PCA thing a couple of times. It can dispense pain med every 8 minutes, but I think I used it only twice that day. Around 5pm I woke up and my back was killing me from sleeping in the awkward position I was in and asked if I could get up and walk. The nurses were really surprised and said that no one ever asks to get up early. I was due for a walk at 9pm, but they were willing to let me up then. I cruised one lap around the small wing and back into bed. I had these short white stockings on my legs up to my knees (that the sleepy nurse had put on) and then these inflatable thigh-highs on top of that to keep my circulation going. So needless to day, every time I had to get up, disconnecting everything and adjusting the bed so I could move was quite a production. I also had a catheter that they had inserted after I was out in the OR and that was very strange.

I told Keith and my mom to go ahead and go because I really didn't need help getting to the bathroom (since I technically didn't need one) and that they should get some good sleep. They took off around 7 or so. The nurses came for vitals and catheter emptying every two hours and by the time I had my 9pm run, I was pretty tired. The catheter emptying is a very strange sensation. Normally you don't feel it at all, but I could feel this, sucking, sensation .. ick. I was also given some lemon flavored swabs to swirl around on my tongue and in my mouth to help relieve the dry mouth. I was thirsty something awful. At around 5am, I woke up feeling cranky and my back was sore so I called the nurse and asked if I could walk, and they expressed their surprise again. I saw a few other patients as I cruised by their rooms and I was really thinking this was pretty easy. Little did I know that it was Morphine I was getting loaded on with that PCA every time I pushed it.

I had to use this breathing apparatus every couple of hours too. A "Breathing treatment". Basically the same stuff that asthmatics use to open up their airways. This took about 15 minutes a shot, and at 2am, is very annoying. I pretty much clamped the thing in my mouth and tried to stay awake enough to breathe, rather than holding the thing. Then I would have to use the Volometer, another conraption that measures your breath intake. Let me tell you, doing these sitting up rather than lying down is key. Thursday morning I had an upper GI xray and they wheeled me into Radiology and had me stand on this long flat table thing and then they rocked it back so I could relax. The technician was funny and he described how bitter the stuff I would have to drink was etc. I was given a dixie cup of clear gooey liquid and when he went into the other room I could hear him tell me to take a drink and swallow, then wait and take another while the xray machine was going off. After a few minutes of leaning there trying not to lock my knees he let me know that I would be able to eat ice chips because I had no leaks and we rejoiced together.

He wheeled me out to the hall and let me know that someone would be by to pick me up. I was starting to feel gnarly on the table in Radiology, and sitting out in the hall for 10 minutes did nothing to pick up my spirits. Right when I started to make whining noises to myself and started running my hands through my hair from the pain my IV emptied and the machine started to beep. One of the radiology techs buzzed the recovery area and let them know that a patient was waiting for a while and her IV was beeping. Reggie was on the other end of the phone, but someone else came to pick me up. I got back to my room and hit the PCA as soon as I got settled.

All the nurses are extremely nice. Terry and Melissa during the day, and Julie at night. Melissa took care of me on Wednesday and Terry and Elaine took care of me on Thursday. Thursday Mom and Keith showed up around 10:30 or so since they knew I would be off doing the upper GI in the morning. After a few hours of vitals and what not, I noticed that I was beginning to itch everywhere. I kept scratching and looking for hives, and since I didn't see any I tried to ignore it. After a while I mentioned something to mom and she convinced me to call the nurse. I beeped them and they intercomed me and came in after I explained what was going on. They took my temp and it was up a little, 99.7 and Terry informed me that I am allergic to morphine. So they took me off of that and put me on Tylenol with Codiene my mouth instead. They also shot me up with Benadryl every 6 hours to keep the itching down. What it really did was knock my ass out. That afternoon they took me off the catheter and had me try to pee on my own. I had to pee 150cc's or the catheter was going to go back in. I managed to get out 125 by the end of the day and Melissa thought that was close enough and that my kidney function was just fine. Fluids going in, fluids going out. Vitals being taken, breathing treatments, volometer thing, etc etc etc...By that evening my stomach was rumbling like hell, gas bubbles roiling around in my gut. I wanted to pass gass, but I could tell that wouldn't happen without other accidents as well. After a few trips to the bathroom I finally had a bowel movement, and discovered that I couldn't reach back to wipe. So mom had to help. It was awful the first few times, and no matter how hard I tried, it just hurt to much to try on my own. She was really cool about it. What I noticed was that it all looked like dark blood from that end, and one of the nurses told me that this was normal, since it's the natrual progression of fluid from my stomach that they had just cut into. Later that night I finally got some air out and was feeling a bit better in that department.

That night and the next morning were hell. I couldn't walk without major pain. Now that there was no morphine going in, I was in major hell. Walking to the bathroom, walking around the wing, everything sucked, big time. I had some vitals and tests and the male nurse let me know that I would have to have a shower before he could pull my staples out and put on steri-strips. I had my mom help me in the shower, after 2.5 days I was pretty funky and I felt MUCH better after we were done. I washed my hair and combed it and then called the nurse. He came in, unstapled me, put on glue around the incisions and then steri-strips to help keep the incision ends together. He cracked a lot of lame jokes, but was really really nice, and was self-deprecating too. He told us about this mall in Carlsbad that has a lot of outlet shops and is next to these renunculous fields. Big bands of flower color on the hillside etc. I had another breathing treatment, used the volometer and then was let go. I was wheeled out to the car and got in surprisingly easily. The height on the Highlander isn't too bad for climbing up in.

We went straight to the condo and I propped myself up on the couch. I was in a lot of pain, and was not the nicest person for the first few hours. I kept trying to get into bed because I was tired, but lying down was just not comfortable. I ended up on the end of the couch with a chair in front of me to prop up my legs on. After my second attempt to lie down in bed and a lot of wailing and moaning, we finally perched my ass in the corner of the sectional with the chair in front and I spent the night sitting up with Keith on the couch next to me to keep watch and mom in the comfy bed. It ended up being pretty comfortable and now I understand why having a recliner after this kind of surgery is so important. You have to sit up to sleep, at least half way and having the boost for getting up when your abdominal muscles are so sore really helps. I only woke up once to go to the bathroom, and had to wake Keith for a wipe down. Poor guy. He and my mom are so cool about it though. It's embarassing, but a fact of life I suppose. This morning we got up around 8, showered, dressed and Keith and my mom packed everything. We checked out at 11, and drove to the Mall that they nurse at the hospital had mentioned. Two nurses gave us two sets of instructions, and one of them turned out to be right. Beautiful rows of millions of flowers behind this large outside mall of foofy shops like DKNY and Timberland, etc. We walked very very slowly around, and I rested often. Taking my Tylenol+Codiene when the real walking started. We sat at the PandaPanda chinese food place and I had the broth to some wonton soup for lunch. Keith had this really yummy looking beef thing that looked like General Chicken, but he said it really wasn't very good. All I could think was "just lick it, just lick it". When I was on Optifast a while back, one of the ladies I worked with told me this story about how she had been on it for a couple of months, then alluded to the fact that she had gotten stoned with her girlfriends and ended up eating half a bag of baby carrots. After her tummy going all that time without solid food she said she thought she was going to expire with all those carrots in her stomach. The lesson learned was "No matter how good it looks, don't eat it, just lick it. Just lick the chicken....".

Anyway, so pretty much all I can think of is food. But then again, I know I can't eat it, and every time I even drink water, I can feel how small my stomach is and how drinking too fast pushes it. I would love to be able to suck on a donut and not eat anything from it *grin*. For now it's broth, jello and water until Tuesday when I get to add eggs and cottage cheese for protien. Whee. All I can say is, if you asked me at this moment, whether or not I would do this again. My answer would be HELL NO. Perhaps if you ask me in a month, when my stomach stops rumbling from all the gas, when I can drink a 1/4 of a glass of water without my stomach cramping up and I have lost a few pounds my answer will be different. For now, it's all about pain and waiting.

I'm really glad my mom is here.. it's really helped a lot to have her here to talk to and for her to worry over me. She's great company. Mommy.

One thing I have to mention is how incredible Keith has been through all this. It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how gentle, patient and attentive he has been. I have found a great treasure in Keith, and I will never ever let him go. He's so sweet and kind, and caring.. When I'm pissed off and in huge amounts of pain and am pushing him away when he tries to gently hold me he still stands nearby and waits for me to calm down, and offers the gentle touch again. It's amazing, and I don't know what I have done to deserve such a person in my life. I only hope I give him so much love and strength in return...

So, I'm leaking like an incontinent grandmother, but the padding is on my side, rather than in my knickers. Bleh. Huuuurrp... ick.. euuullgh.

At some point on Saturday, we discovered that the steri-strips on my drain site were not holding any longer and I was leaking more on the dressings than into the lovely little drainage tube I have hanging off my right side (my right, not yours). So we've been piling on the gauze and tape and changing it often. I finally called the doctors office today, and since they are closed, they paged him (ack!). He said there really wasn't anything we could do about it, just keep it clean, change the dressings and use hydrogen peroxide if it gets crusty.

Today started off really well. I got up on my own last night for the restroom. Dripdried to spare my relatives the injustice of having to get up at 4am for a wiping, and everyone woke up again at 8. I had one Tylenol+codiene at around 3am or so, and nothing but straight Tylenol all day today until now (5:30). I was able to get up this morning and walk around the complex, slowly, but more spritely than the last few days, and I was damn near able to take care of my self in the restroom.

The barometer for how well I am doing day by day is in measurement of how close I can reach to my crotch, rather than how far I can walk. *grimace*.

We just went and saw Bridget Jones's Diary. Funny as hell. I walked straight up to the concession stand and asked for a small cup of ice and happily munched it within the first 5 minutes of the previews. That felt nice. During that time they showed a preview for Moulin Rouge which stars Nicole Kidman. Keith has always had a bit of a thing for her... well not a thing, he just finds her attractive. I mean, I do too, but there she was, dressed in victorian corsets, pale as a ghost and goddamn gorgeous and I started to cry. Freaking silly. She was wearing what I've always wanted to wear, looking how I've always wanted to look.. and here I was without food for 6 goddamn days and emotionally distraught... Anyway, I got over it before anyone noticed and only plotted out 3 ways that she should die.

I know that I will be a better fitter version of myself when this is all done. In a month when I give in and weigh myself I will be a good chunk lighter already. The thing is I've already gone and wrecked my body! My skin is nothing but stretch marks in most places.. I'm 30 years old and that stuff just isn't going to spring back. Yes, I will have a panni-whatchahoosit tummy tuck when this is all said and done, and maybe have my batwings removed, and my butt lifted, and my thighs trimmed.. good god, look at all that though.. that's a shitload of work! I mean... when this is all done, I'm still not going to look like that fantasy girl I think I could have been if I hadn't eaten myself into this state. Christ, I wish someone would go ahead and call it a disease and have everyone agree, because the thought that if I had just stuck to weight watchers or kept that weight off the very first time I went on a successful diet when I was 14 if I'd had enough will power just makes me want to go out and hang myself.

Even when the doctors I talk to grimace at me talking about "emotional eating" and say "I'm not really convinced that's the problem" I feel... guilty somehow. Society says that we are all a bunch of losers and that we should be able to control ourselves and not cram crullers and corn chips in our mouths willy nilly.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. I smell BBQ burgers out there by the pool that someone is grilling and I just want to go out there and lick them. Then eat some nice soft mustard and lick some cheese, just to get the full effect.

Okay, I'm stopping for now and going to learn how to play Gin Rummy from Keith.. god help us

I didn't post yesterday because I felt like crap. Sunday afternoon my left side "porthole" really started hurting. Apparently they cut one incision larger, 33 millimeters, in order to cram most all of the tools in for working on your bod. EVERYONE who has laparoscopic surgery experiences pain in this spot after surgery to one degree or another. Up until Sunday afternoon, I was just sore, then it started to feel like I had a spot under that incision that had a string of muscle holding up my entire lower belly. It's like..an over full waterballoon that you have to cradle from underneath because if you let go of it, it will burst, and that's how it felt... like it had no support and was going to break. It SUCKED. I stopped walking much but from the restoom to the couch, etc. because I was tired of holding my belly up and it still hurt like hell when I did this.

We rented a big recliner on Monday and they delivered it around 12:30. Let me tell you ladies and gentleman, this is key in recovery comfort. I tried lying down in bed... it was impossible not to try to curl up on my side (my fave position for snoozing) and when I found it impossible I tried lying on my back. When your abdominal muscles are cut into, damn near no lying down position works, and there's no way in hell I could get myself out of bed without a lot of cursing and screaming, so I gave up and started propping myself up on the couch and putting my legs on the coffee table. This was okay for one night, but then my back started to hurt.. (New York Jewish Mother accent) oh I could go on and on and on...

Anyway, so sleeping became easier. I also developed a low-grade fever on Sunday night... 99.5 which is no big deal, except it kept creeping up and down. My day to day temp is normally 99.1, having an extree layer of insulation makes you hot-blooded. Anyway, I kept taking Tylenol and chewing ice. By the time Monday rolled around I was freaking miserable. I've been reduced to tears more in the last 3 days than I have in the last 5 years, I swear. Everything else is feeling pretty good, incisions are healing shut, I'm more flexible (yay for self wiping *ahem*), but this one spot on my bod that's pulling like hell when I get up just blows it all. So anyway, last night my temp shot up to 101.2 and I took more Tylenol and an ice pack on my grape to get it down to 99.5 again. My body is fighting something going on. The medical office says please call if your temp gets up to 102, because this means something is seriously wrong. My mom was worried and Keith was watching me. I broke my fever last night, and I woke up with a normal temp.

Today we had a group class at the medical office to go over instructions for starting on solid food, and I also saw a nurse. I talked to them about the fever and the pain and they poked and prodded at me. The skin around that big incision is red, and hot, and because of the fever the first nurse called in another one and she asked me to watch my temp, start applying a hotpack and to come back tomorrow for another look-see after my nutrition class.

I also lost 9 pounds... I was at 306 on the 6th during the pre-op testing. In the hospital after surgery I went up to 313 from all the IV fluids and what not, and now I'm down to 297. Whee.. I'm not all that excited.. I mean after 6 days of no food.. something better be gone! I'll be more excited in a month when things really start moving.

I got to eat for the first time today. The whites of a poached egg, and one slice of toasted wonder bread with light butter, crusts cut off.

The way they describe my new tummy is like.. a dry chamois (shammy). Stiff and inflexible, and basically pissed off from being cut, stapled and sewed. For now, not much is going in, and I have to be very careful about the things I eat. Lots of protien, 2 meals a day, moist meat, and chew everything to oblivion. The opening from my pouch to my lower intestine is the circumference of the top to a tube of toothpaste, so you have to make sure nothing larger than that gets swallowed.

That's it for the medical side. For how I've been feeling... it's complicated I guess. I've been bawling like a baby from the pain, and frustration at it. Yesterday Keith and mom and I took a trip to the drugstore for gauze and tape and to pick up a prescription for mom. She has Type II diabetes so she has to take a pill a day and was running out. Anyway, the pharmacy said her refill was going to take at least 20 minutes so we decided to go get Keith something to eat because it was around 2:00 and he hadn't eaten yet and was getting cranky. Anyway, I thought he was going to take us to chinese or something (his favorite) and to my horror, he took us to Chevy's. Let me explain. I LOVE mexican food. I could eat that every day for the rest of my life and not have a problem. I laughed as we walked in and asked him if he was feeling mean. He looked confused and said no.. but I was so pissed.. I mean... it was inconsiderate. I suppose for a person not food deprived and fat this would be no big deal. But for me to have to sit there and watch him eat refried beans and spanish rice and tortilla chips and salsa.. it was just.. rotten. I sat there, chewed ice and stewed. Keith asked "why did you ask if I was feeling mean?" like I had hurt his feelings somehow.. and it was all I could do not to burst into tears from being so mad. I just blew it off, said "don't be sensitive" and reiterated that I had been laughing when I asked it. Mom sensed the oncoming storm and broke in with a recap of their Gin Rummy game and I calmed down.

I don't know.. it's stupid, I'm so emotionally raw from all this that I overreacted, but I also think it was damnned inconsiderate since I couldn't touch a thing of my favorite thing in the world.

*sigh* Bleh.

So the main recommendation of the 2nd nurse I saw today was to start wearing "support" undies. Those miracle lycra jobbies that support your belly. I crammed myself into a pair and they were right, it does help, and I don't have to hold up my belly anymore. I'm still sore, but I think I can walk more. Later today we are going to park by the beach and walk around.

Okay, so here goes.

So I lied about the support chonies. They worked for a while, at least worth one trip to the bathroom... and then I had to shuck those suckers. Have you ever worn those tight ass support panties??? They are enough trouble to get out of when you are perfectly healthy, much less when you are feeling like hell. So what we ended up doing was going to a maternity store to get a maternity belt... I'ts like a combination of a sling and a belt. It's about 3-4 inches wide, heavy duty elastic, with a bunch of velcro to hold it together, and for you to adjust it with. I ended up putting it on backward so that the closure was in the back rather than the front. It's just too much of a pain to try to close it in the front on my own, so my mom and Keith helped me out. That helped TREMENDOUSLY. I was able to crawl into the mall, holding my belly, and after wearing it out of the store, walk from the store to Sears, peruse the big girl bathing suits and then off to the car because I was still getting very tired.

I don't remember much about the rest of the day... broth for dinner, and then nothing but pain. My fever kept spiking around 100.5 and I was freaking miserable. I knew that something was really wrong with my bod. I know we are supposed to expect pain, but not the kind that reduces me to a screaming bawling mess every time I get up and walk to the bathroom, and only gets worse every day, rather than better...

I woke up about 4am on Wednesday and discovered a new and exciting pain. My drain site on the right side had a stitch behind it. That's the only way I could describe it. Every time I took a breath, it would "stitch" on me. So I couldn't breathe very deep. If any of you have ever run and gotten a stitch, you know what I'm talking about. I went back to bed and did my best to sleep. In the morning I cried in the shower and was in such misery. Every time I sobbed, it hurt like hell because of the new stitch. Keith had to wash me too. Up until Wednesday I had been able to do at least part of the job and he took care of my particulars since I couldn't bend enough to do it myself.

We all packed ourselves into the car and headed off to the nutrition class at 9:30am in the hospital classrooms. The class was great. There was an hour of nutritional information Q&A etc. They spelled everything out in very clear, concise terms. No doubt about it. Nothing but protien for me until May 18th, and then I get to add some veggies. I'll post the menu's and stuff. No breads, carbo's at all. Around the 5th month, you can go ahead and experiment with things, add sensible bits in, protien always first, and see what your body tolerates. I will always eat 1-2 meals a day (I plan on asking a nutritionist about this once I get to my goal weight, because I really want to do some serious weight-lifting/bodybuilding), and will probably never get back into sugar, other than eating a bite of someone's dessert at the end of the meal. Basically, protien in food form is key because this will keep my muscle, and your body does not really need carbo's when it has your fat to draw energy from.

After class we went to the Dr's office and I signed in, around 12:00. Mom's flight was at 1:25 and she had to be at the gate for boarding at 12:30, so we said our goodbye's there. I know it was hard for her, as she knew I was having trouble and they were going to check it out...

While Keith was gone taking my mom to the airport the nurse took me back and started poking and prodding. I mentioned the new pain on my right, and she inspected my left incision and decided that it needed to be opened, as well as they needed to take my drain out early. I was a little scared of the drain coming out, since I knew there would be very little anesthesia. The opening of the old incision didn't scare me because I knew they would shoot up the area so I would feel very little. After putting a topical anesthetic on the drain site, they explained what was going to happen. The drain actually goes from my left side, and the tube comes out on my right. I had no idea how long that sucker was. Pam, the nurse called in her assistant Melissa to take out the drain, she said Mel is the best drain puller they have. After about 2 tries getting the "1,2,3 breathe deep, hold, blow it out" routine we got it. She pulled, and I could feel the whole thing traveling through my abdomen and then pulling out the little incision. There was that traveling sensation that didn't hurt, and then just a little yelp at the end when the whole thing came out. Not bad at all! Melissa was awesome.

Then came the left incision...

If you are at all squeamish, please skip this part!

Pam first numbed me up with the same topical anesthetic, and once it kicked in she poked me with several shots of Lydocaine all around the incision site. She went very slow and asked me to let her know if it was more than I could take etc. Very caring. I was leaning back and my left boob was in the way, so I really couldn't see what she was doing... I saw Melissa hand her a tiny exacto blade and some sharp scissors and then she went at it. I could see blood.. etc on the instruments as she lifted them back up and considered what she saw... She cut down about 2-3 inches with the blade and snipped with the scissors.. after a while I was really really really glad I couldn't see what she was doing. And then.. the smell. I will never ever be able to forget that smell... like, rotten eggs, or a dead cat.. I don't know how to describe it. Anyway, after a bit she exclaimed and was very happy to find that she was right, there was all kinds of fluid collecting in there with no place to go. The reason it smelled so bad is that it was dead red blood cells, blood putrifys once it dies and since it had no where to go, it was particularly awful.

She and Melissa basically "milked" my belly and pushed TONS of complete yuck and nastiness out onto wads of gauze. Melissa commented "And they wonder why I don't eat lunch here..." We laughed at that and she said she never eats at work because of what she sees. She said the blood doesn't bother her, or what she saw on me, just.. the smells and what not. After a while, Pam was digging around with long Q-tips and clearing out all the gunk. Then she syringed in some hydrogen peroxide, and I giggled when I felt it fizzing away. There was no pain, because once you get past the top layers of skin, there are no nerve endings that far down. So when she was digging around and what not, I couldn't feel anything but pressure. After a while she snipped some again, and I really felt that last snip, sucked in my breath and did my best not to sock her. She apologized profusely, and they did during the entire procedure. Pam explained that now that my drain and the gunk were out, things would really start to improve for me, instead of getting worse. I would have soreness because of all the pushing and "milking" but that would go away soon. I finally took a look at what it looked like, and it wasn't that bad, just the incision was open again, and still the same length, about 2 inches long. When they were working it felt like I had a volcano sized opening, but nope, just the same as I had in the beginning!

Melissa said that it's not considered a "complication" because a few people experience the same thing...but it is considered a "setback" because we have to leave the wound open so it can heal from the bottom up. Basically because that incision is where they put almost all of the tools in, sometimes a bit of bacteria can get in and then *poof*, infection. Because your skin wants so badly to close up, the outer layer seals up and then when the infection grows, you experience fever, redness around the incision etc which is your body's way of telling you something is really wrong. She showed me how to clean it out, flush it, and then how to take soft gauze and pack it in all the way to the bottom, pushing it in with the wood end of a long swab and then piling the leftover around. She called this a "wick". The wick would keep the skin from healing over and sealing it up. I was really glad Keith was not there during that procedure.. I'm pretty sure he would have fainted. She covered the rest with square gauze and taped it completely over with clear 3M tape so that if it really drained and soaked the gauze, none of it would get on my clothes. They also drew a green marker line around the redness on my skin, so they could see if it retreated between that time and the next time they saw me.

We discussed anti-biotics, but because I am allergic to so many of them (penicillin, keflex, keftab, sulfa) she decided to see how my body took care of it on it's own. She asked me to come back at 4:30 that afternoon so they could check it out, and also so that Keith could see how to take care of the wound. The only thing I needed to do was apply some heat to it, 20 minutes on, 30 off so that it would help it to drain, etc.

When I walked out to the lobby, Keith walked in and we took off. Poor sweetie was tired, and hungry since we hadn't had time to eat before we left, and he's a lunch person anyway and he was overdue. We went to Ralph's around the corner to get me my first bits of food which consisted of deli turkey, cottage cheese, canned crabmeat, mustard for the deli meat and non-fat mayo for the crab. We also looked for Flintstones vitamins, but they didn't have any and Keith got some sandwich fixins for himself when we got back to the condo. Once we hit Solana Beach, he stopped at Albertsons and found the vitamins, and also got some Cottonelle personal wipies for my hiney. Since the new pain started I'm back to needing a bidet.

We had just enough time to eat, apply a hot pack to my belly, and then head back to the hospital. While we were driving over I called my friend Barbara that I had visited the week before (see pre-op journal, April 7th post) to let her know I didn't think we would be able to hook up that afternoon with all the stuff I had going on. She told me there was a support group meeting that night from 7-9 and I told her I would do my best to be there. With all the driving back and forth that would require Keith wasn't thrilled as he was so tired, but he knew it would be good for me so he said we could discuss it after the visit. We hit the Dr's office around 4:40 and they called us right into a room and Pam immediately dug in.

She pulled out the gauze and looked at my skin and the marker and the redness had retreated by at least half, then she pulled out the gauze. Keith started really turning white when she pushed in the swabs again and started swirling around. He stood right there and watched, but by the time she got to the fizzing Hydrogen Peroxide, he was sitting down. Poor guy. Pam was sympathetic, she said that when it's someone you love, it's always harder to take. Later Keith said that if it were on himself, he'd probably have no problem doing all this, but still wasn't sure if he could handle it. Pam ran through the whole regimen of unpacking, cleaning and repacking twice a day, and recommended I do this all in the shower so that the gauze would be wet before I pulled it out, etc. Just repack and dress it out of the shower. Because the redness had retreated so much and what not, Pam decided we could try forgoing the anti-biotics rather than risk giving me something I could have a reaction to, and have to deal with that at the same time as the wound care and everything else. She stressed that my body would be putting a lot of work toward healing my wound, and with the tiny amount of food going in, that I wouldn't be able to start strenuous exercise for about 2-3 weeks after. She said the opening of the wound would close over about 7 days, and then the rest would be fully healed within 2 weeks. So not too much more of the really yucky wound care! She also gave me a prescription for Vicodin to replace the Tylenol+Codiene I had been taking. The T+C just makes me sleepy as hell and goofy and does not a damnned thing for the pain.

We hung out in the hospital parking lot from 5:30 to 6:45, talking and napping before the support group at 7. We both went, and I saw Barbara there.. she looked GREAT. She's a beautiful girl. We were there for 2 hours, and since it was geared toward the emotional stuff, everyone got a chance to get something off their chests. There were a few people already done with surgery that were doing really well, and there were a couple that had had the surgery within the last 2 weeks that were really struggling. One woman was having a hard time envisioning herself not able to eat normally, that not being able to eat a whole sandwich was somehow a loss. I could understand where she was coming from on that. Food is a very social thing, and you lose a bit of that when you have this surgery. No more regular Quiznos sandwiches for me! Maybe some of the chicken from inside, but never a whole hoagie. One other woman was having problems with drinking milk and eating ketchup. A couple of women were about to have cats over that, and I was too. They are very clear in the literature that you should not eat milk products because they contain sugar, which causes dumping, not to mention cravings which could sabotage this surgery, and also to just not have things that you know have sugar, such as ketchup. A couple of people, including me asked why was she doing that, and it turned out she's diabetic and her doctor cleared her to do so as her blood sugar was way too low. When she had eaten the milk, and soy milk, even though she "dumped" her blook sugar had gone up. It was a high price to pay... They say that most Type II diabetes is reversed with this surgery. The other woman that had spoken up about not drinking milk ended up staying after and giving hints about what to eat with the woman who had problems with the sandwich idea and the milk drinking. I think I'm going to look up the support group in San Jose. I can see how valuable it will be to have input from other people who have gone through this.

Last night I had a couple more slices of shaved deli turkey. It was good, but I really wasn't that hungry. So far no dumping! I have a feeling I'm going to be okay with eating food.

So that's about it for the Tuesday and Wednesday.. now on to today.

Today I woke up, and took a shower completely on my own for the first time in 8 days! Let me be honest, I did take a Vicodin before, but still.. everything was flexible, I was able to reach everything, and although I am still sore, it wasn't debilitating like all the other days had been. My stitch was gone, and I didn't have to hold my belly the whole time either. I peeled off the gauze and pulled out the "wick" and let the shower water run in and out of it. It still smelled horrible, and when I pushed around at it, little globs of blood ran out and tons of dark red blood too. After I was done washing myself and my hair I called Keith and he brought me the water syringe. I flushed it out a few times. After I dried off I gingerly poked a couple of swabs in and I'm still amazed how deep that sucker is and how painless it was. As long as I don't bump the entry skin to the wound, I don't feel anything but pressure. I tried to get rid of all the smelliness, but it wasn't working. Keith watched and was quietly grossed out. I didn't pack the wick back in because Pam said that between my shower and my discharge appointment it wouldn't close up and to just get it covered. Keith took a picture of it, which will be up next week when I get near a scanner, and then dressed it for me. He told me that he would not be able to do the cleaning for me, but it was okay, because I can do it for myself. Poor guy, it's just way too gross... To be honest, I don't know if I could do it for him either.. but I suspect in the end that I could. Women are just better at that kind of thing. Especially when it's your spouse, or your children.. things like that just don't phase some of us. For a while I wanted to be a paramedic, and even went so far to get my EMT certification back in '93... But I digress.

We had gotten up early enough to take a little more time getting ready, and I even felt good enough to blow-dry my hair and apply mascara and lipstick.. amazing. We took off a teeny bit late, and I slapped a couple of spoonfuls of cottage cheese in a Dixie cup for breakfast. I ate 1.5 oz's of it on the way.

I started crying in the car on the way over and when Keith asked what was wrong all I could say was "I'm so happy!" He just smiled. I've never been that kind of woman.. to cry inexplicably when happy (except at weddings) I really was though.. just... relieved and ecstatic and hopeful all at the same time. I really believe this is the day when all subsequent days will be getting better, instead of worse. When we got to the medical office, all the people I had seen over the last few days in the offices and in the bariatric surgery wing were there also, getting discharged. One of the women's husbands commented that I looked good. I told him it was my turnaround day. We all had a good time talking about various things and listening to each others experiences with the surgery. A couple people have really had problems with "dumping" and vomiting up food. No one else talked about pain though. I piped up with my experience along the way. A few of the women that were going in for surgery on Monday morning and I exchanged email addresses so we could work together and one woman who was 9 months out gave us all her address so we could ask her questions. Everyone was nervous, but all felt better when us "veterans" explained how things had gone, and how incredibly nice the nursing staff was at the hospital.

I was called after 11am and was weighed and measured. I lost another 3 lbs over night. I can't believe I've lost 16 lbs in 8 freaking days!!! Every time I get on the scale all I can think is... "no way...." It's not so much a happy thing as it is a freaky thing for me. I wonder what my scale at home says... Melissa checked out my wound and flushed it out with hydrogen peroxide and swabbed it some, then just lightly covered it so the nurse could take a closer look and Keith turned pasty white again

We waited in the other room forever, and I started opening drawers and jars and what not while Keith griped quietly in the corner. It was 12:15, time for lunch. With all the talking in the waiting room, I didn't realize how much time we had spent there. He was bored out of his mind and cranky. I managed to make him laugh at least once and smiled a couple of times, so I knew he wasn't too bad off.

I saw a different nurse this time, a nurse practitioner. Of course I forgot her name as soon as she told me. I ended up sitting up for the cleaning this time rather than laying down. I'm not sure whether that would have made a difference. This nurse was NOT nice, at all. At least, not with my wound. She uncovered it, and flushed it with half peroxide and half water and then dug around with the swabs, not being at all careful when she pushed them back up, smacking the side of my opening which stung like hell and hurt. When her back was turned while she was doing something at the counter I looked at Keith and almost started to cry. Damn, she was just.. not gentle at all. He seemed surprised at her too. She turned around and said "go ahead and cry, it's okay". But I was so mad I didn't want to do that in front of her so I got over it. She told me that we needed to do something new along with the swabbing and packing. She showed me how to pack the wound, and then flush in some half hydrogen peroxide, half saline water to soak the pack, and then pull it out again. This will really clean the inside of the wound, and give me a better chance of healing fully. She packed me back in, using the cotton end of the swab, which scraped the sides of my incision every time she pushed it in causing sharp pains, rather than the narrow wooden end that Pam and Melissa had so it would be more gentle. Then bandaged it and taped it (crappy tape job). We discussed the 4 rules of working this new lifestyle.