Things were going along nicely. The Christmas novella was written and saved. I'd even started printing it out. I had the week to get everything done--not a problem. Monday evening, I had my dinner and went off to a 7 PM PNC meeting. During the meeting, my abdomen started started to cramp. Fortunately, is was pretty much just a check-in meeting and it didn't last long. I was really uncomfortable by the time I got home. Great, I thought, things were starting over like last month. Knowing I would have to be back on clear fluids for a few days, I made a big bowl of jello. And hurt more. I got into my nightgown because I just couldn't stand to have anything around my waist. My abdomen and stomach thanked me by popping out and getting really hard. And the pain got worse. Just as I was about to do some research on the Internet, I got that warning feeling and lost most of my dinner. I don't do that. It isn't ladylike. I continued to heave for a bit. Please, just let me sleep this off. I know I'll feel better in the morning. The voice of reason told me to call my insurance company's nurse line. It took a while getting through the automated receptionist (the economy started going to hell in a hand basket when all the telephone receptionists were replaced by "Press one for..." or even yet, voice response systems). Finally, though, I got through to an RN. I told her what was going on and what I'd tried. She asked me what else I had in mind to do and I said "die." She said that wasn't an option and said I should go to the hospital. It was now about 11:30 and Glenn was unwinding from work (overtime on his day off). I knocked on his door and asked him for a ride to emergency. I grabbed my book and enough yarn to keep me busy and we were off.
There was no one in the waiting room when we got there and no ambulances outside--a very good sigh. They registered me right away, giving me an ingenious blue bucket device when I said I was going to be sick. Triage took me right away and we were whisked off to a room. I think it was about 2 when I saw the doctor--really cute and really nice. He asked what he could do for me. I said "Get a turkey baster with a large needle, stick it in my gut, and release the gas." Without blinking an eye, he turned to the nurse and said, "Get me one turkey baster--sterile" He listened to my symptoms, said he suspected a bowel obstruction and ordered a CT scan. At that point, I told Glenn to go home and get some sleep, because I knew it would be a long time. Glenn is such a prince. It took some talking to get him to go home.
I had the usual--an IV line was started and blood was sucked, It was around 3 when they took me in for the scan--no contrast this time, either oral or injected. Back to the room to wait for results. Yea, verily, it was a small bowel obstruction and they were going to admit me. What? Not on my agenda--I had things to do, fudge to make. Around 5, the nurse came it and told me that they had a bed for me upstairs, but I couldn't be transported until shift change at 7 because they didn't have enough nurses. I wasn't going anywhere else, so I knit, read, watched the clock, hurt, and waited..
7 o'clock finally came and I was taken up to a room on the 7th floor and settled in. The staff was wonderful, from doctors and nurses to housekeeping. They are amazingly hardworking and always kind. I met the Hospitalist, a Dr. Liu, who was charming, and explained treatment options to me. The most effective, though not necessarily the most pleasant, was to insert an NG tube to suck out the backed up fluids and gas and decompress my gut. Second option was to keep me on IV fluids and give everything a chance to rest. It was my choice. Not happily, I opted for the NG tube, there being a shortage of sterile turkey basters. It was not fun getting it put in, and once inserted, I felt like I had a baseball bat down my throat, but it did start working right away. I was also given pain meds and connected to a bag of potassium chloride. I was in a two bed room with an older woman who wasn't chatty, but was going home. I knit and read and finally dozed.
Shortly after the afternoon shift change, I was waked by a patient across the hall screaming and yelling and carrying on like his home was up in a tree. I didn't hear the whole shouting match--I must have missed something in the beginning, but I did hear him say something about there being no place for him to smoke in the hospital so he'd had to go outside with his friends and that was his right--in the winter, in a hospital gown and socks. After a bit of this entertainment, my nurse came in and said they were going to move me to a different room. I was only moved next door, so I could still hear much of the yelling--which went on for hours--including "My wife is a lawyer and she's going to sue you" and the calling of security and the cops. I got the window bed of a two bed room. The other bed was occupied by Moaning Myrtle. I never found out exactly what her problem was, but HIPPA be damned, there is no privacy in hospitals, especially not for those of us blessed with good hearing. The whole time I was there, she slept, screamed, moaned, asked for pain meds, or complained about the food. When she did talk, she had no concept of the term "inside voice." Neither did her sisters when they came to visit. I don't think she ever learned a nurse or CNA's name, or even where her call light was. When she wanted the nurse, she would holler out "Nurse! Nurse!"
Meanwhile, back in my window view bed, I continued to get infused and sucked out. By Tuesday afternoon, my IV started to infiltrate. I suggested that they just use my port--a suggestion I'd made in emergency that wasn't acted on. What a good idea, everyone thought. Of course, they had to wait till they got hold of the doctor to get an order for lidecain to make accessing the port more comfortable, but they got the job done, and it was much better.
I'd called Glenn in the morning, with a list of things to bring me--my CPAP, bight splint, phone charger, laptop, and Leroy, the Lavender Pig. Did I say Glenn was a prince? Glenn's a prince. I made a few other calls, people who would have shot me if I hadn't let them know.
Tuesday night it was very interesting getting the CPAP mask over the NG tube. I know I'd done it before, because I had an NG for days after my surgery in 08. The tube already hurt my poor little already sore nose--the mask only exacerbated things. Thank goodness for pain meds. Even with Moaning Myrtle, I managed to get some sleep.
Wednesday morning, I was passing gas--nothing you discuss in polite society, but a happy topic on conversation in a hospital. Dr. Liu decided to cap off the NG tube and see how I did for four hours. If I did ok, they could start me on clear liquids. It went a little longer, but sometime in the afternoon, after I'd had a lovely visit with Elaine, I got beef broth, lemon tea, cranberry juice, jello, and an orange Popsicle. It stayed down. Just before dinner, I got a real treat--the removal of the NG tube! Dinner was virtually the same as lunch, with a change in flavors--chicken for beef, apple cinnamon tea, orange instead of red jello, and a cherry Popsicle. It didn't matter. I downed every drop.
My oncologist came to see me on Wednesday. She was wearing a mask, coughing, and looked terrible. She asked me how I was doing, and I said better than she was. She said that the bowel obstruction was always a possibility, considering my abdominal surgeries and radiation treatments. At least no one (outside of the ER doctor) was talking about surgeons this round. It is always a possibility for the future. The good thing was that the latest scan didn't show any cancer, so we'll continue to monitor things there.
Thursday, I was walking the halls, bypassed full liquids and went straight to a soft diet, which I also tolerated well. I'd been off blood pressure meds and pumped full of fluid since Monday, so by Thursday afternoon, my legs and feet were swelling to the point that I started to feel like an Oompa Lumpa--relayed that to my nurse, who called Dr. Liu, and got an order to start me back on torsemide. It worked very well indeed.
Friday was go home day. Dr. Liu advised em to follow up with my PCP and advised me on what to eat and how to eat--small meals, slowly. I told him about the menu for Christmas--prime rib--and gave me a look and told me to take it really easy or I'd be back. I called and made the PCP appointment, also called my Cancer Center and postponed my appointment for a port flush after Christmas, on the flimsy grounds that the port had just gotten a good workout. I continued walking the halls and waited for Glenn to get off work and ferry me home. I came to the hospital in my nightgown, robe, and slippers, and that's the way I went home. It was in a driving rainstorm and the slippers were somewhat less than adequate footwear, but we got the job done. I had jello and tomato soup for dinner and then Glenn drove me to church for knitting circle, so my hospital visit was nicely bracketed by church activities.
I'm feeling better--things are moving around. I'm being very careful about what goes in. I'm more conscious of the need to stay hydrated. Most of all, I know the warning signs and what to do if/when this happens again. I usually mail my Christmas cards on the 18th--that's not happening this year. Glenn and I did but a tree today and Elaine and the kids will be over to decorate it tomorrow or Monday. I have to seriously get cracking on the cards. If they arrive after Christmas, well, it is a twelve day feast, after all.
How not to overeat during the holidays. Get a small bower obstruction. Works like magic. I'm feeling better.
xxooxx
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