If you're my friend on Facebook, and care read about my whining, you know that on Wednesday, January 4th, at 7:30am, I went under the knife for a hysterectomy. But it wasn't just any knife. It was the DiVinci Robotic knife. Here's my story....
For years I've suffered with pain on my right side. I lived with it for YEARS. Y-E-A-R-S. Did I mention this has gone on for YEARS? Considering it has been YEARS, I figured if it hadn't killed me by now, it wasn't going to, so I just lived with it. And it was really annoying. But, at my last "physical"...(you know...that physical, the one that all of us women look forward to every year so much that we mark the date on the calendar with hearts and flowers, just like we do the anniversaries of our first dates, first kisses and wedding anniversaries ), I talked to the doctor about it and told him I was over it. After discussing my options, we decided that a hysterectomy was the best for me. Rip it out!!!
My sister had it done and couple years ago. In fact, she was the first patient at St. Agnes to have it done. She was a model patient, too, of course, because she has an extremely high pain tolerance. (I wanted to say she had the pain tolerance of something really strong and mean, but I couldn't think of anything, besides an ox, and I was afraid that would offend her. She's sensitive that way). When I say model patient, I mean that literally...She became a spokesperson for the Di Vinci robot. Interviews, photo shoots, videos, banners, newspaper articles. Yeah, really. (She drew the line at TV commercials and freeway billboards, though.) When the doctor was going over all the details with me, he actually made me watch her video interview. I laughed through the whole thing. I couldn't help it (sorry, Sissy). Anyway...she talked about how she rested the first day and didn't use pain meds. The second day she drove her kids to school and went to her son's basketball game (can you say cu-cu?), then was up that weekend cooking for company and skiing three weeks later. Yeah, she's pretty much superwoman. She makes it look soooooo easy. (They didn't bother to ask me about all the phone calls I got from her crying and whaling in pain. But I understand. It might ruin the whole "It's so easy my husband could do it..." vibe she's giving off.)
So anyway, the videos are watched. Packets are read. Papers are signed. Insurance is approved. Date is set and........sigh...the date arrives.
After a wonderful night sleep (note the sarcasm), I went in for pre-op preps. I showered and shaved that morning. That was before I knew they were going to "scrub" me down with these horrible anti-bacterial wipes! Seriously? I thought I was going to go through the roof. Number 1, they were flipping' cold. Number 2, they were ANTI-BACTERIAL. In fact, I think they might have even been Clorox or Lysol wipes. It was insane. Mean, actually. Even worse? There were 2 male patients that were having to be shaved all over then "scrubbed". A. Gross!! B. OUCH! What the hello kitty? If they feel this is completely necessary, they need to figure out a way to either warm the wipes or do it after you're out, because, honestly...it's cruel.
Then they put these things on my legs. Leg compression things to keep the blood flowing while I'm out, to prevent blood clots. Innocent enough, I guess. The nurse described it as, "a massage". A massage? Apparently she's never experienced it, or she's never had a real massage. Poor, misguided little nurse girl. I'm slightly (ok, that's an understatement) claustrophobic. To me it felt like an ancient torture device, if I knew what an ancient torture device felt like. Between the antibacterial scrub down, the leg contraptions and the loose bowels causing me to run to the bathroom on the other side of the pre-op room with my gown flopping open every 5 minutes, I was DONE. My doctor had ordered me some calming meds before surgery, but I had to see Dr. Feel Good first....and he was running late. Jerk. And I told him so, too. FINALLY, as I'm being wheeled into the OR they give me something. I calm a little, but still pretty anxious, obviously...since the OR is rather intimidating, especially when there is this huge robotic arm hanging over the operating table and a chair across the room where the doctor will be sitting. More drugs, please? I don't mind if I do!
So...then I got some good stuff. Funny thing, though, I remember everything. I remember Dr. Feel Good getting ready to do my spinal and telling me I was skinny (FYI: no longer a jerk after that comment), and Dr. Kim (the greatest doctor ever) asking me about all my mom's grand kids and me trying to explain to him that if my brother has 2, and my sister has 2, and I have 3, that makes 7 and he says, "so there's 6?" And me replying, "Holy poop balls, Dr. Kim...I'm having second thoughts about you operating on me right now!!"
Next thing I know, I'm trying to wake up in recovery. OMG...I hate that feeling. I feel so out of control, and when I get that feeling, we all know what happens...Panic attack. I've some how managed to learn to control it, mostly. I can't control my heart rate, but I can control my reaction. I lay perfectly still, eyes closed, and try to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth. I told the nurse I needed something and she tried to call the doctor, who couldn't be reached (Dr. Kim was briefly on my poop list while he was unavailable) to get an order for Xanax, because I already take it, for AN HOUR AND A HALF, before she says, "well, we do have some medication I can put in your IV if you want to try that..." I calmly answered, "Yes, please. That would be great." As soon as she was out of the room, I yelled, "It took her a freakin' hour and a half to figure that out?!?!?!" I may, or may not have embarrassed Tim with that little outburst and I may or may not really give a poo.
How do you handle pain? I handle it pretty well, I think. I think I probably whine more when my pain is less than I do when it's really bad. They have these pain scales for you to gage your pain on. 1 being no pain at all (with a smiley face), 10 being unbearable pain (with a very horrible sad face, that's red and sweaty). How do you know what unbearable pain is? I've given birth without medication, with contractions off the charts. I would think that would be considered unbearable pain, but I managed it. Considering I have anxiety like I do, I think I handle such situations pretty well. They kept asking me how my pain was and well, it was pretty bad. I felt like I was giving birth without pain medication again, and quite frankly, I wasn't enjoying it. "So, Kimberly, on a scale from 1-10, how bad is your pain?" Me, "8 or 9." Nurse, "8 or 9? Really?" YES, BIOTCH!!! Are you laying here in this bed? Did you just have some robot rip your uterus out through a tiny incision in your abdomen? I THINK NOT!!! MY PAIN IS A FRICKIN' 8 OR 9!!!!! After several vials of IV drugs, I gave up and said forget it. Just give me a Xanax or 2 and I'll call you in the morning!
At some point, Dr. Kim decided I didn't need any more IV meds and that I could take Oxycontin. The nurse came in with several pills and said, "This is your Zoloft, Xanax and Oxycontin." Whoa. Really?!?!? Won't that kill me?!?!?! I was having my own little Pharm party right there in the hospital! Whoop! Holler!! Seriously scared the crap out of me (ok, not literally because, unfortunately, it was several days later before there was any bowel movement), but I took it anyway. I think I'll save the Oxycontin for the druggies. I didn't feel any better after taking it. I took it twice then opted for the Tylenol/Advil/Xanax combo instead. So, we can look at that one of two ways: 1. I'm an idiot and really enjoy pain, or 2. the pain really was bearable with just Tylenol/Advil/Xanax. Haha! The truth is, my friends, most things are bearable with Xanax.
Evening came and it was time to decide to stay in the hospital or go home. I wasn't actually going home, I was going to my sissy's house, where Tim, the 3 girls, and my niece and nephew were waiting for me. Hum......eenie, meenie, miney, may...in the hospital I will stay! Yay!!
Actually...nay. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I thought it would be nice to have a night in the hospital (remember my earlier blog about the hospital resort I have dreamed up?). Say what you want, but I don't get to rest when my kids are around. I love them to pieces and they make me smile, but they're hooligans. And I have only myself to blame. That being said...Oh. My. Stars. And. Garters. I should have gone home. Between my extremely grouchy, whiney, rude roommate, Pearl and the IV they had flowing through me causing me to pee, and I'm not exaggerating here...AT LEAST 20 times during the night, I wished, every single agonizing minute that I had chosen home.
I actually had two IV's. One hooked up and one just dangling off my arm, with a huge needle that had blood backing up and that was hecka painful. Then, there was the one that was hooked up. It wasn't just hooked up to an IV bag....it was flowing like a waterfall. It was turned up so high, that I had to pee every 10 minutes. I'm NOT KIDDING. At one point, from about 10-11 I was up at least 6 times. They told me not to get up without help, but I called and no one answered. I even called their little cell phones and the one that finally answered was rude and told me she's get to me when she could. I had to pee lady, and I just had surgery in the same area...I was in pain. I couldn't wait. So, me and my little IV pole went for a little walk to bathroom, praying every time that I didn't pass out or fall...at least 20 times that night...and I'm not exaggerating. Seriously, not exaggerating. Oh, and finally after my not hooked up, dangly IV hose thingy narrowly missed the pee water 15 out of 20 of those times, I got smart and tied it on my arm. Why was that hose even there?!?! I just woke up with it. It was never used and gave me a huge, painful bruise on my arm.
Needless to say, when Dr. Kim (the greatest doctor ever) came in, he said, "Why is she still have an IV? Take that out. She not need that." (It's written that way, because that's how he talks. Love my Dr. Kim. You should hear him cuss. It's hysterical!) Then he reminded me that he told me I would be more comfortable at home. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Then showed me pictures of my innards and how I had scar tissue binding my ovary, tube and my bowels. (I know...you just threw up a little). Nice, huh? He also told me that it was most likely scar tissue from my appendix and that will probably come back. Yay. More good news. Best news yet, though...I got to go home.
Isn't there a rule that you have to be wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair? I thought there was, but I suppose I could be wrong...because the nurse said, "do you want a chair or can you walk?" So I walked out. Nearly passed out on the elevator, but I did it. Woohoo!! I was on my way to my sister's house. Tim had taken the girls home and because I had to see the doctor the next morning, I opted to stay the night at my sister's so I didn't have to ride home and back. He came up to see me then came home to the girls and my sister took amazing care of me. She didn't rub my feet though, which was disappointing. I would think that a really good sister would do something like that, but she didn't. Oh well...beggers can't be choosers.
I'm currently on the road to recovery. Slower than I imagined, actually. The spokesperson for the Di Vinci robot said she was up in about in 2 days...not moving really slow and still feeling like her insides are going to fall out her bottom every time she stands up, despite the fact those insides are no longer inside. She set the bar really high. But the truth is, I can drive and lift at my discretion. After about 30 minutes of being up, I want to lay down and by 7pm, I want to drug everyone and put them all in bed, especially myself, but that's not really anything new. Tomorrow will be a week since the surgery. I suppose, considering I had my uterus, cervix, one ovary and tube removed, as well as some scar tissue cleaned up, I'm getting along pretty good. If you saw me out and about, you'd never know I'd just had major surgery. In fact, I find myself telling random people, just to get some sympathy!
I feel bad, because there are so many women who still suffer from abdominal and vaginal hysterectomies when there is this amazing technology out there allowing them to recover in 1/2 the time. The cost is still the same...the doctors just need to do some training, but I guess they just don't want to. Why else would they insist their patients go through such surgery when there's an easier way. If you're in need of a hysterectomy, call me. I'll give you the amazing Dr. Kim's number and he'll have you back on your feet in no time. Not as quickly as the spokesperson tells you, but pretty quick, considering.
Short story long...that was My Date with Di Vinci the robotic arm, in the OR at St. Agnes Medical Center.
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