One of the interesting parts of my wonderful husband's Christmas Party is that I was confronted with my surgery. What I mean by that is among the glittering trees decorated by designers and his cocktail attired coworkers, I came to find out that my surgery was not something between him and I after all. Rather, when explaining to his boss that he needed time off to accompany me for surgery, some wires got crossed and the next thing I know apparently the entire Sr Management Team from his company knew that I had donated a kidney. Apparently the only part that didn't come out was that it was an anonymous donation.
It was super wonderful, I'm standing around having a cran-soda (to not make it apparent that I wasn't drinking at a cocktail function, which I would normally be all over) and the wife of my husband's best friend (who is the second of 3 top guys at my husband's firm) starts asking me about my kidney and how my cousin was doing. I was a little shocked. In fact I believe my exact response was "What? Excuse me, but what? How do you know about that? How much do you know? Where did you find this out?" A rapid fire string of questions. I was caught totally off guard. Normally, when I know I will be telling people about this, its something that I initiate, and I have the conversation somewhat planned out. This, this was different. I didn't start this. It wasn't my doing that spread it around. I had no idea how to react. After a few briefly uncomfortable moments I excused myself from the conversation to try and find my husband to see what had happened, and low and behold, it happens again: "Hey, by the way, awesome that you donated a kidney," Similar response from me.
Although I did say to all these people that it wasn't something I wanted to talk about, I had 2, needed one and so I gave the other away. I let them continue with the notion that I had given to my cousin, I didn't really feel like talking about it.
The one thing that happened from this is that I became more open to talking about it. I did find that people's reactions before surgery and after are vastly different. Before people thought it was their right to tell me what I should and should not do; a surprising number of people tried to talk me out of it. After, I only got positive reactions.
I started telling the rest of my family, my brother, aunt and uncle, as well as some very close family friends. I told a few more of my friends, as well as some people that asked about my surgery. In some ways I found it easier to tell people than to explain why I wasn't at work (I'm not a big fan of lying), and why I was moving around like an old lady.
Talking about it was freeing as well. I didn't have to hide any pain or discomfort, try to pretend certain activities held no interest when I really just didn't have the energy for them, or explain why I was talking certain pills and liked to nap a lot.
And when asked about why I simply say "have two, need one." And yes, if they do ask, I would do it all over again.
As for who doesn't know, other than my parents-in-law, the in-laws don't know, nor do a lot of people in my work circle. My little sister knows I had a kidney removed, but not that it was donated. Most of my immediate family knows, as do close friends, and that is how I would like to keep it, at least for now. Although, this is not set in stone. I am not out advocating for organ donation or anything like that, I am simply telling a few people what is going on in my life, as it is a big part of my life, and waiting until I am fully comfortable with these people knowing before moving on.
I do find that people look at me a little differently when they know, and I'm not a fan of that at all. Which is why there are some people who I don't plan on telling at all. For example, I don't tell people that press the issue. If a friend is asking some follow up questions from my standard statement "I'm on surgical leave" then I provide tidbits of information based on their questions, but if they don't ask, I don't tell. Then, there are the other people that knew I was going for surgical leave (particularly one woman who shares our office space) and kept pressuring me for details (not because she overly cares what it is, but because she doesn't like not knowing). She even went so far as to tell me that "I am beautiful just the way I am, and I don't need to change anything." Right. It was quite funny when I did pop back into the office for a quick visit and she was there, she kept checking me out to see if she could see what it is that I had done. Nope, boobs still the same size, as is butt and belly. Then what was it? - I could see the questions radiating from her eyes. I finally threw her a bone - abdominal surgery. Kinda made me laugh though.
I will admit, it was a bit of a relief to talk about it with some people. I mean, this was a very major part of my life, and to lie about it and keep it hidden was not easy for me. It informed so much of my daily life that I left I was unable to really participate in much of life because I didn't want to give away what happened, nor did I want to lie. So telling people made life a lot easier, as well as making activities more enjoyable - I could stop and take all the breaks I wanted.
It was that fateful Christmas Party that started all of this rolling, but I have to admit, other than the fact that some people who I would never have told know, it wasn't that bad of a thing. So, what about you?? What has sharing your decision and/or your recovery been like? Positive? Negative? Did the word spread like wildfire or was it something you were in charge of (I asked my family to let me be the one to share the news, and they were all very respectful of my decision).
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Week 2
Week two (of being home post-op) began with my husband's Christmas Party as part of a corporate weekend retreat.
We were both quite looking forward to this event as it was at a beautiful hotel and it was a nice weekend away. However, I don't think we factored in quite how taxing it would be on me. For starters, packing was a strain. The majority of my pain (and medication) was a result of doing things I shouldn't and overdoing it. Bending, lifting, twisting, standing up and sitting down then standing up then sitting down (repeat) were all things that did me in. These simple acts could easily wear me out, and packing is full of bending, lifting, twisting, reaching etc. That and the ensuing car ride made it a long ride - I was still sensitive to every bump in the roads, and being winter, there were a few. What I would have done differently is brought my Bunny Earl with me to put between the seatbelt buckle and my body - the consistent pressure was not comfortable after the first five minutes of being in the car.
I think my issue was I was underestimating how taxing healing really is on the body. Just because I hadn't done anything other than get up off the couch a handful of times, doesn't mean I wasn't exhausted at the effort and in a bit of pain. The pain wasn't really too bad, all in all, but it was worse when I did physical things I shouldn't.
The Christmas party was spread over two nights, and it was here that I was able to notice something I never had before: phantom pains related to digestion. I will admit I had phantom pains before this, however I attributed those to my body getting used to one kidney and learning not to send anything to Earl for processing. This, however, was different. I could feel a phantom pain on my left side within 20-40mins of eating/drinking less that ideal substances. Example: I got a twinge about half an hour after eating a batch of salty fries, or having more than 1 glass of wine. I noticed 'fake' food (junk food), foods with a high concentration of sodium, and alcohol would trigger these pains. They didn't typically last very long, but it was a bit of an internal jab reminding me that this early on I needed to be a bit more careful with my diet.
In Week 2, I slept a ton. I was on my own at home, and thus getting water, in and out of bed, up off the couch, showering and dressing, all these simple tasks that I had been doing before were more draining now as I had to do more for myself which typically required more movement, and thus I was exhausted at the simple things. For walking I could manage about 5 blocks without feeling anything major, but after that I really did notice my body was just not ready for that kind of work, it was still doing too much inside. My incisions were still very tender to the touch and tight fitting clothes did not go over well at all, nor as I found out, did pantyhose.
As I posted in Week 1, being alone is hard, and I was able to notice that more so in retrospect as in Week 1 I had my Father In Law and in Week 2, after the Christmas Party, I did not. I would reccommend magazines for Week 2 - books can be a bit overwhelming, I didn't really feel up to reading anything, and tv can get old, real fast. Magazines are strong enough to hold attention, not mentally taxing, and something that is easy to pick up and put down between naps.
What did you find worked in this early stage of recovery? Any tips/tricks you would like to pass on? Any questions about the recovery process? Love to hear from you - your comments inspire me to keep blogging about this. Thanks!
We were both quite looking forward to this event as it was at a beautiful hotel and it was a nice weekend away. However, I don't think we factored in quite how taxing it would be on me. For starters, packing was a strain. The majority of my pain (and medication) was a result of doing things I shouldn't and overdoing it. Bending, lifting, twisting, standing up and sitting down then standing up then sitting down (repeat) were all things that did me in. These simple acts could easily wear me out, and packing is full of bending, lifting, twisting, reaching etc. That and the ensuing car ride made it a long ride - I was still sensitive to every bump in the roads, and being winter, there were a few. What I would have done differently is brought my Bunny Earl with me to put between the seatbelt buckle and my body - the consistent pressure was not comfortable after the first five minutes of being in the car.
I think my issue was I was underestimating how taxing healing really is on the body. Just because I hadn't done anything other than get up off the couch a handful of times, doesn't mean I wasn't exhausted at the effort and in a bit of pain. The pain wasn't really too bad, all in all, but it was worse when I did physical things I shouldn't.
The Christmas party was spread over two nights, and it was here that I was able to notice something I never had before: phantom pains related to digestion. I will admit I had phantom pains before this, however I attributed those to my body getting used to one kidney and learning not to send anything to Earl for processing. This, however, was different. I could feel a phantom pain on my left side within 20-40mins of eating/drinking less that ideal substances. Example: I got a twinge about half an hour after eating a batch of salty fries, or having more than 1 glass of wine. I noticed 'fake' food (junk food), foods with a high concentration of sodium, and alcohol would trigger these pains. They didn't typically last very long, but it was a bit of an internal jab reminding me that this early on I needed to be a bit more careful with my diet.
In Week 2, I slept a ton. I was on my own at home, and thus getting water, in and out of bed, up off the couch, showering and dressing, all these simple tasks that I had been doing before were more draining now as I had to do more for myself which typically required more movement, and thus I was exhausted at the simple things. For walking I could manage about 5 blocks without feeling anything major, but after that I really did notice my body was just not ready for that kind of work, it was still doing too much inside. My incisions were still very tender to the touch and tight fitting clothes did not go over well at all, nor as I found out, did pantyhose.
As I posted in Week 1, being alone is hard, and I was able to notice that more so in retrospect as in Week 1 I had my Father In Law and in Week 2, after the Christmas Party, I did not. I would reccommend magazines for Week 2 - books can be a bit overwhelming, I didn't really feel up to reading anything, and tv can get old, real fast. Magazines are strong enough to hold attention, not mentally taxing, and something that is easy to pick up and put down between naps.
What did you find worked in this early stage of recovery? Any tips/tricks you would like to pass on? Any questions about the recovery process? Love to hear from you - your comments inspire me to keep blogging about this. Thanks!
Friday, January 7, 2011
The Healing Process
It has now been 5 weeks since surgery and I will be the first to admit they have not been an easy 5 weeks. Over the next week I will be posting on what the recovery process has been like and other aspects of my life that are directly related to surgery such as finding out that people found out about surgery when I have been very specific about keeping it private. For those that have been following my journey, I thank you for your time and patience. I will admit, part of the process was spending 14hrs a day online watching TV and movies, to the point where I didn`t want to be near a computer to post, hence the delay.
I am back, and will do my best to post with some regularity, and as always welcome any comments or questions. The comments have inspired me to return to the blog and continue posting about my experience.
Week 1
Short Summary: pain, drugs, loneliness.
I was amazed at how much every little thing took so much more effort. From standing up to getting in and out of a car (if I was up to going out), it hurt. The laproscopic incisions are on my left side and it felt like every time I moved I was using my abs, muscles that had been cut to allow for the tools. Hence the drugs. They gave my T3s when I left the hospital, a small prescription meant to help control the pain, but there wasn't supposed to be a lot of pain, and I suppose that would have held true had I been able to slow down and take it easy. I suck at that. Its one thing if people do things for me because they want to, its another if they do them because they have to. I didn`t like the have to part very much and thus would try and do things for myself. Not a good idea.
On Sunday my Father in Law came to stay with us for a few days. My husband had taken 2 weeks to travel for surgery with me, but needed to return to work. I was not in a place where I was okay to be alone, and thus my Father in Law came to stay. He arrived on Sunday and returned to him home on Wednesday. I must admit, having him there those first few days was so very important. First of all, I was not able to cook (for what little food I was eating, bend or reach, and most of all, I was bored. Already being back home for a few days, my hubby and I had passed the time watching TV and movies online, surfing the net, and generally hanging out in front of a computer screen. When the computer is your only source of entertainment for days on end, it can really get to a point where you want nothing to do with it. And that's what happened to me.
Thankfully, my Father in Law provided some great company - he makes a fantastic soup, was there to make sure I didn`t over do it on walks (my max was 3 blocks, round trip) and basically stop me from going insane. That's the thing, I couldn't walk very far at all, I mean, wearing denim was hard as my abdomen was still slightly distended from the CO2, and form fitting pants were painful. I`m not the type to hang out in public in sweats, so any outing was rare and short lived. I couldn`t walk, and the other thing that was interesting to learn is no driving for a month! Let me just say, the 3 blocks around my condo - not that interesting.
No walking, no driving, and over-saturation of being online. Thank goodness for company. It made all the difference in the world. My husband was still there of course, however I was sleeping when he left for work, he didn`t get home until 6ish and there was a loooonnnngggg day in there. I was trying not to sleep during the day because I wanted to be able to sleep at night, but sometimes that didn`t help either.
Just as having someone do things for me because they want to is different than if they have to, so is alone time. If I want it, great, but when its forced upon me because everyone is either at school or at work, or in a different city, the days can drag.When my Father in Law left, the remainder of the week was pretty lonely.
If I have any advice for anyone going through this: the first week after surgery when you are most limited in terms of ability and movement is almost as important, if not more so, to have someone there with you than the actual surgery itself. I could not have gone through surgery without my husband there with me, nor could I have gotten through that first week on my own. Also, don`t be afraid to ask for help. Simple things - the water pitcher in the fridge was low so I had to bend, and it was kinda heavy when full - thus I had to ask for water all the time. I fought back at first, trying to do things but I quickly realized the bravado wasn`t worth the subsequent pain. Ask for help. And be careful with the pain pills (more on that in Week 2).
I am back, and will do my best to post with some regularity, and as always welcome any comments or questions. The comments have inspired me to return to the blog and continue posting about my experience.
Week 1
Short Summary: pain, drugs, loneliness.
I was amazed at how much every little thing took so much more effort. From standing up to getting in and out of a car (if I was up to going out), it hurt. The laproscopic incisions are on my left side and it felt like every time I moved I was using my abs, muscles that had been cut to allow for the tools. Hence the drugs. They gave my T3s when I left the hospital, a small prescription meant to help control the pain, but there wasn't supposed to be a lot of pain, and I suppose that would have held true had I been able to slow down and take it easy. I suck at that. Its one thing if people do things for me because they want to, its another if they do them because they have to. I didn`t like the have to part very much and thus would try and do things for myself. Not a good idea.
On Sunday my Father in Law came to stay with us for a few days. My husband had taken 2 weeks to travel for surgery with me, but needed to return to work. I was not in a place where I was okay to be alone, and thus my Father in Law came to stay. He arrived on Sunday and returned to him home on Wednesday. I must admit, having him there those first few days was so very important. First of all, I was not able to cook (for what little food I was eating, bend or reach, and most of all, I was bored. Already being back home for a few days, my hubby and I had passed the time watching TV and movies online, surfing the net, and generally hanging out in front of a computer screen. When the computer is your only source of entertainment for days on end, it can really get to a point where you want nothing to do with it. And that's what happened to me.
Thankfully, my Father in Law provided some great company - he makes a fantastic soup, was there to make sure I didn`t over do it on walks (my max was 3 blocks, round trip) and basically stop me from going insane. That's the thing, I couldn't walk very far at all, I mean, wearing denim was hard as my abdomen was still slightly distended from the CO2, and form fitting pants were painful. I`m not the type to hang out in public in sweats, so any outing was rare and short lived. I couldn`t walk, and the other thing that was interesting to learn is no driving for a month! Let me just say, the 3 blocks around my condo - not that interesting.
No walking, no driving, and over-saturation of being online. Thank goodness for company. It made all the difference in the world. My husband was still there of course, however I was sleeping when he left for work, he didn`t get home until 6ish and there was a loooonnnngggg day in there. I was trying not to sleep during the day because I wanted to be able to sleep at night, but sometimes that didn`t help either.
Just as having someone do things for me because they want to is different than if they have to, so is alone time. If I want it, great, but when its forced upon me because everyone is either at school or at work, or in a different city, the days can drag.When my Father in Law left, the remainder of the week was pretty lonely.
If I have any advice for anyone going through this: the first week after surgery when you are most limited in terms of ability and movement is almost as important, if not more so, to have someone there with you than the actual surgery itself. I could not have gone through surgery without my husband there with me, nor could I have gotten through that first week on my own. Also, don`t be afraid to ask for help. Simple things - the water pitcher in the fridge was low so I had to bend, and it was kinda heavy when full - thus I had to ask for water all the time. I fought back at first, trying to do things but I quickly realized the bravado wasn`t worth the subsequent pain. Ask for help. And be careful with the pain pills (more on that in Week 2).
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Flying Home
We flew home on November 30th, a mere 5 days after surgery and here's the important points:
1. Wheelchairs are good. Trying to walk, no matter the size of the airport is not worth the pain it will cause later.
2. Medicate beforehand. I didn't, and it sucked. I only had T3s for the pain, and wouldn't recommend taking 2 as it makes me woozy, but 1 would have taken the edge off.
3. Earl came in handy. The hospital recommended I have a pillow or blanket between myself and the seat belt as a cushion and most airlines charge for these now, but Earl worked quite nicely. Not only did he provide comfort but the cushioning was greatly appreciated.
4. Wheelchairs. They are on the list twice for a reason.
5. A ride or a taxi, don't park at the airport. Airport parking involves walking, walking is not good at this stage. Chances are it's already been a long day with a lot of activity (especially if a certain dog gets out of your friend's house just as the cab arrives to take you to the airport and you have to chase him down before you can leave), and friends and taxis meet you at the curb which is a very good thing. Plus, they don't really let the wheelchairs out of the terminal building.
6. Rest. When you get home, just go straight to your wonderful warm, welcoming and comfortable bed and sleep. You need it.
All in all, its good to be home, and flying was way better than driving. Could not have survived every bump in the winter roads even on the way home from the airport, let alone from another city.
1. Wheelchairs are good. Trying to walk, no matter the size of the airport is not worth the pain it will cause later.
2. Medicate beforehand. I didn't, and it sucked. I only had T3s for the pain, and wouldn't recommend taking 2 as it makes me woozy, but 1 would have taken the edge off.
3. Earl came in handy. The hospital recommended I have a pillow or blanket between myself and the seat belt as a cushion and most airlines charge for these now, but Earl worked quite nicely. Not only did he provide comfort but the cushioning was greatly appreciated.
4. Wheelchairs. They are on the list twice for a reason.
5. A ride or a taxi, don't park at the airport. Airport parking involves walking, walking is not good at this stage. Chances are it's already been a long day with a lot of activity (especially if a certain dog gets out of your friend's house just as the cab arrives to take you to the airport and you have to chase him down before you can leave), and friends and taxis meet you at the curb which is a very good thing. Plus, they don't really let the wheelchairs out of the terminal building.
6. Rest. When you get home, just go straight to your wonderful warm, welcoming and comfortable bed and sleep. You need it.
All in all, its good to be home, and flying was way better than driving. Could not have survived every bump in the winter roads even on the way home from the airport, let alone from another city.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Freedom! Discharge Day
I loved Day 3. First, I had oatmeal with brown sugar for breakfast, which was the closest thing to real food I'd had in days, and second I got out.
Here was my conversation with the surgeon who checked in with me first thing in the morning:
Him: "how are you doing?"
Me: "I would like a shower and I would like to go home, please"
Him: "alight then, we should be able to do that."
He took a look at my chart, saw that I was eating and moving well and got started on the paperwork.
My husband showed up shortly, when and filled the prescription for T3 with codeine for pain management, a nurse took out my IV, and gave me a shower (I HATED not being able to wash myself - one of the reasons I wanted to go home), I got dressed in some loose fitting yoga pants and a sweater, and away we went.
Home at this point was my friend's house, he had very generously opened his home to us for the duration of our visit, and although there is no place like home, this was so much better than the hospital. 1, I didn't have someone bugging me every 4hrs to take my vitals. 2, I could pee without assistance. 3, I wasn't in a hospital with a room full of other patients, who I understand had their own issues, but at times were very noisy, and those times felt like they were always when I was trying to sleep. 4, I could wash myself (which granted I didn't do until the next day, but even knowing that I could made me so much happier).
Once at home I took 2 T3s and took a much needed nap. The simple activity of showering, walking from my room to the cab and then into the house was a bit much for me. I was exhausted.
This first day of freedom involved a few naps and not much more, even food-wise. I was/am still on mostly soups with some soft solids in them, nothing much more than that. So although the food did get better, we are still limited on what I can/should be eating. Lucky for me my husband is a pretty awesome cook, so when I am able to eat more, I know I'll be in good hands.
Here was my conversation with the surgeon who checked in with me first thing in the morning:
Him: "how are you doing?"
Me: "I would like a shower and I would like to go home, please"
Him: "alight then, we should be able to do that."
He took a look at my chart, saw that I was eating and moving well and got started on the paperwork.
My husband showed up shortly, when and filled the prescription for T3 with codeine for pain management, a nurse took out my IV, and gave me a shower (I HATED not being able to wash myself - one of the reasons I wanted to go home), I got dressed in some loose fitting yoga pants and a sweater, and away we went.
Home at this point was my friend's house, he had very generously opened his home to us for the duration of our visit, and although there is no place like home, this was so much better than the hospital. 1, I didn't have someone bugging me every 4hrs to take my vitals. 2, I could pee without assistance. 3, I wasn't in a hospital with a room full of other patients, who I understand had their own issues, but at times were very noisy, and those times felt like they were always when I was trying to sleep. 4, I could wash myself (which granted I didn't do until the next day, but even knowing that I could made me so much happier).
Once at home I took 2 T3s and took a much needed nap. The simple activity of showering, walking from my room to the cab and then into the house was a bit much for me. I was exhausted.
This first day of freedom involved a few naps and not much more, even food-wise. I was/am still on mostly soups with some soft solids in them, nothing much more than that. So although the food did get better, we are still limited on what I can/should be eating. Lucky for me my husband is a pretty awesome cook, so when I am able to eat more, I know I'll be in good hands.
I P Freely
Day 2 brought about the removal of my catheter. Yay! I was super stoked about that. It happened shortly after waking up on Day 2, after a breakfast of OJ again. The nurse simple came and said that she was taking it out, I was laying on my back, she reached inside the waistband of my PJ pants, grabbed the tubing and it was out. Simple as that. No pain or discomfort (other than having someone reach into my pants). I was now at a stage where I pee freely.
Which wasn't actualy true. I still had an IV, and my IV was plugged in behind my bed. So everytime I had to pee, someone (my husband during the day, a nurse at night) had to some and unplug the machine for me. But, it was great to be up and moving around even just that tiny bit.
Speaking of being up and moving around, I was also able to start taking short walks down the hallway (assisted of course by my husband), holding on to my IV stand which I rolled somewhat awkwardly alongside of me. Being able to take these short walks meant my days were not spent exclusively in bed, and that was a joy in itself.
Earl was always waiting for me when I got back, and I say always like I had more than 2 walks, which I didn't. Those simple walks of 50 and 75ft were exhausting. As the doctors, nurses, and transplant coordinators had been telling me, this was major surgery and I was not to underestimate the stress it would place on my body. Which I totally had, and that was my own fault.
My midsection was still quite distended, apparently it can take some time for the CO2 to be fully absorbed by the body, but I was more used to it at this point in time.
Day 2 wasn't very interesting. Day 1 my hubby, Earl and myself watched Toy Story 3, and today we watched Toy Story 2. Of which I slept through most of it.
It was almost easier to sleep during the day than at night, not sure why, but it was.
The other highlight of Day 2 was ice cream. I was almost on full fluids, which they tried at first with some vanilla ice cream in the afternoon. It was tasty! And I handled it well so I was able to have more than just juice and broth for dinner, and even had chocolate ice cream for dessert. Food got a lot better on Day 2.
Which wasn't actualy true. I still had an IV, and my IV was plugged in behind my bed. So everytime I had to pee, someone (my husband during the day, a nurse at night) had to some and unplug the machine for me. But, it was great to be up and moving around even just that tiny bit.
Speaking of being up and moving around, I was also able to start taking short walks down the hallway (assisted of course by my husband), holding on to my IV stand which I rolled somewhat awkwardly alongside of me. Being able to take these short walks meant my days were not spent exclusively in bed, and that was a joy in itself.
Earl was always waiting for me when I got back, and I say always like I had more than 2 walks, which I didn't. Those simple walks of 50 and 75ft were exhausting. As the doctors, nurses, and transplant coordinators had been telling me, this was major surgery and I was not to underestimate the stress it would place on my body. Which I totally had, and that was my own fault.
My midsection was still quite distended, apparently it can take some time for the CO2 to be fully absorbed by the body, but I was more used to it at this point in time.
Day 2 wasn't very interesting. Day 1 my hubby, Earl and myself watched Toy Story 3, and today we watched Toy Story 2. Of which I slept through most of it.
It was almost easier to sleep during the day than at night, not sure why, but it was.
The other highlight of Day 2 was ice cream. I was almost on full fluids, which they tried at first with some vanilla ice cream in the afternoon. It was tasty! And I handled it well so I was able to have more than just juice and broth for dinner, and even had chocolate ice cream for dessert. Food got a lot better on Day 2.
Post-Op Day 1
Hospitals are not great for sleeping, at all. Every 4hrs there was a nurse to take my vitals, and if that so happened to be during a few precious moments of sleep - oh well.
So Day1 started with a surgeon waking me up around 7am. He was a part of the team, but not my actual surgeon and thus I had never met him before. It amused me as people don't seem to understand why I did what I did. I have no connection with kidney disease, no connection with organ donation/transplant, I just decided to do it. He seemed baffled. He did take a quick look at the port sites and the incision (my 4 dots and a dash) and said that I was doing great and away he went.
I'm not overly sure what time things were going on during the morning, I was still pretty close with my morphine drip and that added a bit of a haze to everything. Breakfast for me was tea, orange juice, apple juice. Or that was what was served. I was only able to have the OJ, wasn't feeling very hungry.
One of the nurses washed me, which was an experience in itself. I am not a big fan of not being able to take care of myself, and not being able to wash myself was not fun. Plus, I am not a big fan of other people touching me, especially in all those places - even if its just to make sure I am clean. So I got a wash and was able to brush my teeth, which was super awesome. And I was able to put on PJ pants, which I cannot tell you how happy they made me. Finally my bum wasn't hanging out every time I rolled over! And I added some super soft socks as my feet have a tendency to be cold. I still had the compression stockings on as I was very sedentary and they help prevent clots, but they also helped keep me nice and warm. I couldn't put on a PJ top as I had my IV in and it didn't work with the sleeves. Which kinda sucked, but at least I was able to have pants despite the fact I still had my catheter in.
My husband arrived around 10am, visiting hours were from 12noon to 8pm, but the nurses did say he could come early if he wanted, but not before 10 as they had stuff to do. Which was true, I had 'eaten' breakfast and washed up after already meeting with a surgeon before he arrived. But it was so nice to see him. He always makes me smile.
In the early afternoon or late morning (again, not totally sure) one of the transplant coordinators came to see me. She brought flowers and a card from the recipient and their family. Apparently the recipient was doing great, creatine levels were down from the 600s to the 100s, which is huge, and it was like night and day for them. She said that quite often recipients have almost a grey pallor before surgery, and after they really get their colour back, which was a good sign, and this recipient was no exception.
To protect both myself and the recipient's anonymity, I won't share the contents of the card the wrote me, but I can tell you it made me cry. The recipient was a mother, father, son or daughter. They had a family. This person was now able to do things that mere days before they were unable to do. They had a future to spend with their loved ones that didn't involve 20hrs of dialysis a week. They thanked me for what I had done, for what it meant for their family and wished me a speedy recovery. Rereading the card now, it still has the power to bring tears to my eyes and lessen my pain. It was all worth it, plain and simple.
The rest of this first day was pretty uneventful, the only other thing to note was the physiotherapist came and had me stand up and take a few steps in place. I wasn't yet recovered enough to be walking, but standing was do-able. My meals were still clear fluids, so nothing really of note, and I didn't really 'eat' much as I had (and still have) very little appetite.
I kept the flowers my my bedside, the card in the drawer of my hospital table, and my Bunny Earl by my side at all times.
A while back while waiting for an appointment I was texting my best friend and we decided to name my kidneys Earl and Pearl. Pearl being on the right, Earl on the left. When my husband came to see me when I was first out of surgery, he came bearing a white bunny stuffed animal, and when we were thinking of names for him, my husband suggested Earl. Thus the recipient got Earl the kidney, and I have Earl the bunny.
This night, however, was not as uneventful. One of the side effects of morphine is nausea. Sometime during the middle of the night the nausea hit me like a freight train. It woke me from my sleep, I started pressing my call button for a nurse, and before they could even get there I was throwing up. It sucked. They wiped me up, gave me some gravol and a small dish for if it happened again. It did. Twice more. Each time worse than the last both in quantity of 'output' and in the retching which incidentally engages you abs which hurt my incisions. It was not a pleasant night. But, thankfully, it was the worst of my nights and really the only unpleasant part of my stay.
So Day1 started with a surgeon waking me up around 7am. He was a part of the team, but not my actual surgeon and thus I had never met him before. It amused me as people don't seem to understand why I did what I did. I have no connection with kidney disease, no connection with organ donation/transplant, I just decided to do it. He seemed baffled. He did take a quick look at the port sites and the incision (my 4 dots and a dash) and said that I was doing great and away he went.
I'm not overly sure what time things were going on during the morning, I was still pretty close with my morphine drip and that added a bit of a haze to everything. Breakfast for me was tea, orange juice, apple juice. Or that was what was served. I was only able to have the OJ, wasn't feeling very hungry.
One of the nurses washed me, which was an experience in itself. I am not a big fan of not being able to take care of myself, and not being able to wash myself was not fun. Plus, I am not a big fan of other people touching me, especially in all those places - even if its just to make sure I am clean. So I got a wash and was able to brush my teeth, which was super awesome. And I was able to put on PJ pants, which I cannot tell you how happy they made me. Finally my bum wasn't hanging out every time I rolled over! And I added some super soft socks as my feet have a tendency to be cold. I still had the compression stockings on as I was very sedentary and they help prevent clots, but they also helped keep me nice and warm. I couldn't put on a PJ top as I had my IV in and it didn't work with the sleeves. Which kinda sucked, but at least I was able to have pants despite the fact I still had my catheter in.
My husband arrived around 10am, visiting hours were from 12noon to 8pm, but the nurses did say he could come early if he wanted, but not before 10 as they had stuff to do. Which was true, I had 'eaten' breakfast and washed up after already meeting with a surgeon before he arrived. But it was so nice to see him. He always makes me smile.
In the early afternoon or late morning (again, not totally sure) one of the transplant coordinators came to see me. She brought flowers and a card from the recipient and their family. Apparently the recipient was doing great, creatine levels were down from the 600s to the 100s, which is huge, and it was like night and day for them. She said that quite often recipients have almost a grey pallor before surgery, and after they really get their colour back, which was a good sign, and this recipient was no exception.
To protect both myself and the recipient's anonymity, I won't share the contents of the card the wrote me, but I can tell you it made me cry. The recipient was a mother, father, son or daughter. They had a family. This person was now able to do things that mere days before they were unable to do. They had a future to spend with their loved ones that didn't involve 20hrs of dialysis a week. They thanked me for what I had done, for what it meant for their family and wished me a speedy recovery. Rereading the card now, it still has the power to bring tears to my eyes and lessen my pain. It was all worth it, plain and simple.
The rest of this first day was pretty uneventful, the only other thing to note was the physiotherapist came and had me stand up and take a few steps in place. I wasn't yet recovered enough to be walking, but standing was do-able. My meals were still clear fluids, so nothing really of note, and I didn't really 'eat' much as I had (and still have) very little appetite.
I kept the flowers my my bedside, the card in the drawer of my hospital table, and my Bunny Earl by my side at all times.
 |
| If this bunny had a green ribbon, it would be identical to Earl |
This night, however, was not as uneventful. One of the side effects of morphine is nausea. Sometime during the middle of the night the nausea hit me like a freight train. It woke me from my sleep, I started pressing my call button for a nurse, and before they could even get there I was throwing up. It sucked. They wiped me up, gave me some gravol and a small dish for if it happened again. It did. Twice more. Each time worse than the last both in quantity of 'output' and in the retching which incidentally engages you abs which hurt my incisions. It was not a pleasant night. But, thankfully, it was the worst of my nights and really the only unpleasant part of my stay.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
