On Tuesday, I went in for my laparoscopic surgery to remove my dermoid cyst, look for endometriosis, and tubal ligation. The surgery itself went fine, I guess. I mean, I'm still alive, no lasting damage done.
The day was very long. I had to be at the hospital for 11:00 a.m., which meant no food after midnight, and no liquids after 8:00 a.m. (and only clear ones before that.) it was a long time to wait to be without fluids. That really sucked. I was so thirsty. I have no problem going without food, not that I could have eaten with my nerves anyway, but I hate being unable to drink. My head was pounding by the time surgery came around 2 in the afternoon!
My mom came with me, and I felt bad for her. It was a lot of waiting around for her. At least I was unconscious for part of it.
So this was my first experience with anesthetic and surgery. I was very worried about the coming around part, but it wasn't that bad. They didn't rush me, or tell me to stay awake, so that was good. They did, however shove pills into my mouth when I was half conscious. I thought that was weird. I think I was coming to, and losing consciousness a fair bit, although it didn't see like it at the time. I remember coming to, coughing, and then feeling like I didn't want to open my eyes, so I didn't. In my half-lucid state, I was thinking rather childishly that if I pretended to be asleep, they'd leave me alone. HA HA! The next thing I remember is someone calling my name and shoving a straw between my lips, then telling me to open and shoving pills in my mouth! Lucky for them I take pills easily, unlike some people I know that can't take pills at all.
The next thing I remember is them moving me to the next recovery room. I did manage to look at a clock and was shocked to see it was around four. I was in a fair amount of pain, like really bad cramps. They were asking me how bad the pain was, on a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst pain I ever felt. Well, I've felt some really bad pain in my life. I've had two children without any drugs, so I know pain! But telling them that this pain compared to that was merely a three wasn't going to get me any more pain meds. I'm learning that the hard way. Thankfully they took pity on me when they couldn't take watching me lie there grimacing and writhing anymore. They shot me up with something, and then I was better.
But I was so sleepy. My mom came into the room,we talked for a bit, then I went to sleep on her. So she just played solitaire on my ipad When I woke up, I felt a bit nauseous, so even though the nurse was hoping to get rid of me, she shot me up with gravol, which meant that I had to stay another half hour. I was ok with that. I promptly passed out again.
The next time I woke, I realized the whole place was pretty much vacant. But I still felt sick. Mom helped me dress, then got my drunken self into a wheelchair and wheeled me out. That was the worst ride I've ever had. By the time mom got to the doors, I was opening the barf bag and holding it up to my face. When she went to get the car, I asked her to leave me outside, despite the negative temperatures. Actually, that's the only thing that helped; the cold, cold fresh air.
When I got home, I went to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I was shocked by how grey I looked. Horrible.
I basically slept on and off since two o'clock that day until seven the next morning. That's a lot of sleep, even if some of it was drug-induced!
Since then, I've been ok. The incisions aren't too sore, it's more the air that's stuck inside of me that's killing me. They pump air into you so they can see what they're doing, but don't remove it. So it's stuck in my abdominal cavity, bubbling around and driving me crazy. It's painful, as gas can be. Only I can't burp or fart it out (forgive the crudeness!), I can just hope for it to somehow dissipate.
The weird part of this experience is that the doc never came to talk to me afterwards. I had to call his office the next day to find out what happened. I also had to make a follow up appt for six weeks away.
So as it turned out, I never actually had a dermoid cyst. What I do have, is stage four endometriosis, which is severe, and a lot of scarring on my uterus and ovary. Apparently, my ovary is stuck to my bowel, so he couldn't remove it without fear of putting a hole in my bowel.
So basically, he said my option is to have a hysterectomy. Which I guess doesn't really make it an option. Unless I choose to not have one, but then what? I'll continue to have these painful episodes. And likely they'll get worse. But even a hysterectomy doesn't guarantee the endometriosis will go away.
So that's my story. I don't know what to do,but I'm guessing the next time the endo flares up, I'll be making a solid vow then to end the pain by any means possible.
Showing posts with label ovarian cysts. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ovarian cysts. Show all posts
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Ow, again.
Today I'm lying in bed and trying to stem the pain radiating from my right side. I'm using Tylenol, Advil, and a hot water bottle to help. Earlier I actually took one of my T-3's, around 7:00 a.m. and promptly passed out until about 10:30! It's been a very long time since I slept in that long!
So what is my deal? I thought that I had actually posted this, but turns out I didn't. It was still in my drafts. So go read it please, and then you will know.
It's back.
Well, I guess it never really went away. It's just flared up again.
I'm feeling rather guilty being miserable about something so trivial. Especially given that I know so many people worse off than this. My friend Cindy, my hero really, of Running Out Of Hands just gave birth naturally to her fourth child! Ok, she's not worse off, she's gloriously blessed and happy, I just mean she went through way more pain, I'm sure, than I'm in.
And my Dad's GF is in the hospital after falling down a flight of stairs and totally shattering her wrist and elbow, and had to have seven hours of surgery to fix it.
And of course there's my dear, sweet niece M, who has now completed her radiation and has to play the waiting game to see if it helped at all.
So really, I shouldn't complain. Things could be worse. I'm actually worried that they will get worse. Last time this happened I was in pain for three days. I only have two days right now to be in pain. The third day is Monday, and I can't afford to be in pain that day. And I'm a little worried that I screwed myself over by canceling my doctor appt last week. Obviously the problem is still here and needs attention. Damn.
While I'm very glad we didn't have plans to do anything today that I would have had to cancel, it still feels like such a waste of a day. I haven't dressed, and I've been lying in bed or on the couch the whole time. The house needs to be cleaned, there's shopping to be done as well as laundry, and tomorrow we're supposed to go over to my mom's for a BBQ. It's my nan's last weekend here in Canada before she returns home to UK. I really don't want to back out of that, I've only seen her twice since she arrived at the end of June. Truthfully I don't know how many more times I'll see her at all, she's 85 now. But I don't know how I can stand an almost hour and a half car ride feeling like this.
Guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens tonight.
So what is my deal? I thought that I had actually posted this, but turns out I didn't. It was still in my drafts. So go read it please, and then you will know.
It's back.
Well, I guess it never really went away. It's just flared up again.
I'm feeling rather guilty being miserable about something so trivial. Especially given that I know so many people worse off than this. My friend Cindy, my hero really, of Running Out Of Hands just gave birth naturally to her fourth child! Ok, she's not worse off, she's gloriously blessed and happy, I just mean she went through way more pain, I'm sure, than I'm in.
And my Dad's GF is in the hospital after falling down a flight of stairs and totally shattering her wrist and elbow, and had to have seven hours of surgery to fix it.
And of course there's my dear, sweet niece M, who has now completed her radiation and has to play the waiting game to see if it helped at all.
So really, I shouldn't complain. Things could be worse. I'm actually worried that they will get worse. Last time this happened I was in pain for three days. I only have two days right now to be in pain. The third day is Monday, and I can't afford to be in pain that day. And I'm a little worried that I screwed myself over by canceling my doctor appt last week. Obviously the problem is still here and needs attention. Damn.
While I'm very glad we didn't have plans to do anything today that I would have had to cancel, it still feels like such a waste of a day. I haven't dressed, and I've been lying in bed or on the couch the whole time. The house needs to be cleaned, there's shopping to be done as well as laundry, and tomorrow we're supposed to go over to my mom's for a BBQ. It's my nan's last weekend here in Canada before she returns home to UK. I really don't want to back out of that, I've only seen her twice since she arrived at the end of June. Truthfully I don't know how many more times I'll see her at all, she's 85 now. But I don't know how I can stand an almost hour and a half car ride feeling like this.
Guess I'll just have to wait and see what happens tonight.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Ouchy!
On Wednesday morning when I got into the shower to start my day, I could feel a pain in my back on my right side and what felt like a menstrual cramp in my groin area on the same side. I couldn't understand why I was feeling this, because really, it was completely the wrong time of the month for that. Plus, I never get cramps on one side only.
So I carried on with my day, although the pain continued to get worse. By mid-morning I had to lie down and just let the kids play around me. By noon, I was dying for naptime, and had to call DH to come home as soon as he could. Movement aggravated the pain, and I wanted to walk around holding myself hunched over like an old lady.
Finally, 5:00 came and all the kids left and DH sent me to the clinic. Two hours later I was home with no diagnosis. Stupid, useless Dr. They did test my urine and said no infection was present there, and that I wasn't pregnant. Well duh! I could have told them that! I actually did tell them I only just finished my period the week before, do wouldn't that be a little too soon for pregnancy? Whatever. So the Dr apparently didn't know what was wrong with me. Even when I asked him if the pain could be coming from my ovaries, he said no, the pain was in the wrong place!
Turns out, that Dr needs to brush up on his female anatomy.
Over the next night and in the morning I was in excruciating pain. I was in tears at one point. I don't even remember labour being as bad as that, although I'm sure it was, just not as constant. At least labour pain came and went in waves, giving me relief in the intermittent off periods. Anyhow, DH took the kids to a friend's place to be taken to school from there, and he took me to the hospital.
At first, when I hobbled into the triage area if the ER, it looked quite empty and I thanked the heavens. However, not two minutes later, the ambulances started rolling in. And we all know that of course they take priority. An hour or more later I was dying. I was whimpering and writhing in that stupid plastic chair, trying to find the most comfortable position. I really was about thirty seconds from saying "to hell with it," and laying down on the disgusting floor.
Finally, the angels of mercy looked upon me and they granted me entrance to the place with beds. The wonderful, heavenly beds. No other bed has ever been more comfortable, more wonderful.
And yes, I know it was a gurney.
From that point on I was given something called Toridol (sp?) via IV, and then taken for a CT scan. Then I was given a most wonderful blend of morphine and gravol. Ah, sweet heaven.
After a nap that I was rudely awakened from by the Dr, (how dare he!) I was told my kidneys were fine and that I did indeed have cysts on my ovaries, the right sided one being larger and therefore causing pain.
Ok, they really shouldn't talk to you when you've only just woke up in a gravol/morphine induced stupor. It's really hard to focus! Thank god DH was there to take all the info in.
So I was sent home with a paper explaining the results (in medical jargon, and I actually ended up googling much of it to try and decode and decipher it) and told to make an appointment with my family doctor within the next few days so he/she could send me for an ultrasound within the next two weeks. Hah!! Obviously the man didn't have any idea of how hard it is to get appts in this town!
So we shall see what happens next… For now I have a lovely bottle of Tylenol + codeine.
So I carried on with my day, although the pain continued to get worse. By mid-morning I had to lie down and just let the kids play around me. By noon, I was dying for naptime, and had to call DH to come home as soon as he could. Movement aggravated the pain, and I wanted to walk around holding myself hunched over like an old lady.
Finally, 5:00 came and all the kids left and DH sent me to the clinic. Two hours later I was home with no diagnosis. Stupid, useless Dr. They did test my urine and said no infection was present there, and that I wasn't pregnant. Well duh! I could have told them that! I actually did tell them I only just finished my period the week before, do wouldn't that be a little too soon for pregnancy? Whatever. So the Dr apparently didn't know what was wrong with me. Even when I asked him if the pain could be coming from my ovaries, he said no, the pain was in the wrong place!
Turns out, that Dr needs to brush up on his female anatomy.
Over the next night and in the morning I was in excruciating pain. I was in tears at one point. I don't even remember labour being as bad as that, although I'm sure it was, just not as constant. At least labour pain came and went in waves, giving me relief in the intermittent off periods. Anyhow, DH took the kids to a friend's place to be taken to school from there, and he took me to the hospital.
At first, when I hobbled into the triage area if the ER, it looked quite empty and I thanked the heavens. However, not two minutes later, the ambulances started rolling in. And we all know that of course they take priority. An hour or more later I was dying. I was whimpering and writhing in that stupid plastic chair, trying to find the most comfortable position. I really was about thirty seconds from saying "to hell with it," and laying down on the disgusting floor.
Finally, the angels of mercy looked upon me and they granted me entrance to the place with beds. The wonderful, heavenly beds. No other bed has ever been more comfortable, more wonderful.
And yes, I know it was a gurney.
From that point on I was given something called Toridol (sp?) via IV, and then taken for a CT scan. Then I was given a most wonderful blend of morphine and gravol. Ah, sweet heaven.
After a nap that I was rudely awakened from by the Dr, (how dare he!) I was told my kidneys were fine and that I did indeed have cysts on my ovaries, the right sided one being larger and therefore causing pain.
Ok, they really shouldn't talk to you when you've only just woke up in a gravol/morphine induced stupor. It's really hard to focus! Thank god DH was there to take all the info in.
So I was sent home with a paper explaining the results (in medical jargon, and I actually ended up googling much of it to try and decode and decipher it) and told to make an appointment with my family doctor within the next few days so he/she could send me for an ultrasound within the next two weeks. Hah!! Obviously the man didn't have any idea of how hard it is to get appts in this town!
So we shall see what happens next… For now I have a lovely bottle of Tylenol + codeine.
Labels:
hospitals,
ovarian cysts,
Ovaries,
pain,
sickness,
stupid doctors
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