Here’s my story…
I’ll start with the anesthesiologist – not my favorite person in the world right now. I mentioned to him – THREE TIMES – that whatever was used at my last surgery eight months ago worked well for me. I had no problem at all!! I asked if he’d be able to look it up to see what was used. Later when talking with my husband, he felt the same way I did. That guy had no intention of checking what was used; he had in his own mind what he wanted to do. So why wasn’t that fellow with me holding the barf bag as I heaved up nothingness through the night?
But perhaps I should have started with the fun stuff. I’ve been telling whoever will listen that I want to keep my ovaries. It became funny when the very nice pre-op nurse gave me a marker to write it on my skin. Dr. McGowan laughed about it the next day when she stopped in, saying how the staff enjoyed that note on my leg. And, by the way, the ovaries looked fine so she was happy to leave them where they were.
Connie was the name of the pre-op nurse. We both thought the other looked familiar, but never figured out why. She was pleasant and we talked about a number of things. Her parents are Mennonite, but she didn’t grow up Mennonite. When she gave me the marker, I mentioned that putting it on the skin was probably toxic (but I did it anyway). She shared how, when she was pregnant, she tried to stay away from chemicals and became overwhelmed because they’re in everything we use. I told her you have to start small. My latest change has been my toothpaste.
I was wheeled into surgery, warned by the one pushing my bed about bumps along the way, and as we got closer to the room, she warned that it would be colder, and when we got to the room that it would be “down-right cold.” But that’s OK. They now cloth you in gowns with warming bubbles and hand you a remote for warming yourself up. They didn’t have that eight months ago.
I knew the anesthesia was different as soon as it was administered, and I wondered what that would mean for me.
I found out. Dry heaves, unless I drank water, then clear liquid heaves. Over and over.
Anesthesia, antibiotics, anti-nausea medicine, pain medicine, the list kept growing. Sometime in the evening, they offered me yet another medicine for nausea: finegrin (or something that sounded like that). I asked my night nurse, Melissa, if she would find out the side effects. She retrieved the info and read a very short side effects list, but it included constipation. I decided to try it anyway. Nothing changed. Melissa felt bad for me and seemed to accept my proclamation that drugs aren’t good for me. About 1:00 or 2:00 a.m., I said I just wanted to let all the drugs run their course and be done with it. I did discover that if I sat up and leaned right against my pillow, or leaned left, the nausea stabilized. But if I went back to sitting or laying in the center, I’d feel it start again. I hoped to get through the night, always leaning left or right, as I waited out the effects of the drugs. I told the nurse that my husband would bring me ginger tea in the morning which could help the nausea. She said, “They have tea in the kitchen.” But not ginger tea. It must have been shared with others, because someone on the day shift mentioned it when talking about the trouble I’d had. She said, “Maybe the ginger tea helped.” Her tone sounded a bit sarcastic. I hope I was imagining that.
I should probably mention something about the day nurse, right before she finished her shift. I wondered about getting a banana. It often is settling for me. She was like, “No, no, no, no, no…”
I learned that if they would have given rewards out, I would have received an award that night for having the best looking urine. The night nurse assistant said, when emptying mine, “You should see some of the bags I’ve emptied.” Silently, I disagreed. :) Not in my condition.
Fortunately, Dr. McGowen let me go home the next day. She asked me what I wanted for pain. I told her that Motrin (ibuprofen) would be fine. The thing is, the incisions that I knew were inside me, were just a dull ache. I didn’t think I needed anything. I used Motrin twice at the hospital, mainly because of a headache and that MAYBE the surgical pain MIGHT get bad.
But Dr. McGowen decided to write me a prescription for something stronger. Like all other prescriptions written for me in the past ten years, it went in the trash when I got home. Are patients not allowed to think for themselves?
When I came home, I still felt very nauseous. I kept going to bed, getting up, going to bed. While sitting in my chair, I remembered something about charcoal. I didn’t feel strong enough to check, so I texted my daughter to look it up. She confirmed that charcoal is good for that sort of thing. Charcoal is an adsorber. It’s harmless, it only grabs hold of toxins or poisons, whatever’s bad for you. Within the hour of taking six capsules, the extreme nausea left, the extreme dry mouth, and chills – all left.
Now I have to work on the non-movement. I hope I don’t have to go the route of enemas. I’ve been using magnesium. That usually works right away for me. The problem is, on one of my last days of vacation (a week before surgery), I must have eaten food that contained gluten. My intestinal system gets messed up when I do. I don’t think I had time to get things back in order.
This too shall pass.
(Update, one day later: All nausea left when things started moving.)
Link #1: http://tankitchen-dessert.blogspot.com/2010/08/nam-khing-hot-ginger-tea.html
Link #2: http://www.emedicinehealth.com/activated_charcoal/article_em.htm
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What can I say for you? With what can I compare you, Daughter Jerusalem? To what can I liken you, that I may comfort you, Virgin Daughter Zion? Your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you? —Lamentations 2:13
