The Day Life Changed

 As many of you know, on Tuesday, December 7 I experienced a day that changed my life.  

I went to work like normal, feeling a smidge off, but by 930am I knew there was no way I would be able to make it through the work day as an immense pain creeped into my stomach.  This happened the previous Friday, also causing me to leave work.  Here is the difference though: on Friday I came home and was able to sleep off the pain, but on Tuesday the pain was somehow different.  I left work, got in my car and sped to my mom's house which is half-way between work and home (I have an hour commute).  I am honestly not quite sure how I got to mom's as the pain was increasing and I was driving faster than I have ever driven in my life.  I got to my mom's ran in the door and went right into the bedroom to lie down.  I could not do anything to get comfortable; I kept writhing in pain.  I called Mark to bring me pjs as I knew I would not be making it home anytime soon.  He showed up, and between him and my mom they decided I really needed to go SOMEWHERE.  We decided we would venture to Boardman to the Southwoods Urgicare (Salem's Urgicare is HORRIBLE).  At Southwoods, barely able to walk in or stand up straight due to the pain, we were told by the doctor (who came out to reception before we even checked in) that we needed to go straight to the Emergency Room.  Luckily, St. Elizabeth's in Boardman is right down the street. 

When we got to Emergency we were greeted with a quite full waiting room. Mark got me checked in and I sat down, still not being able to get any comfort. It honestly wasn't too long until the nurse took me to get triaged. They took blood and all my vitals and put in a port for an IV and then sent me back to the waiting room. After what seemed like HOURS (and literally WAS) of waiting for a room feeling like the pain would never end they took me back to a room in ER.  I had to go through a CT scan, an MRI, and an internal and external ultrasound. The nurses had a hard time with my tests because lying on my back was the position that most exacerbated my pain; I pleaded with the ultrasound tech to stop because I just could not stand the position; she did her best to get the job done as quickly as possible with tears streaming down my eyes. I saw about 4 doctors  between my tests but no information was given to me. They gave me a pain med that did nothing. 

As I lay by myself (Mark was not able to go back in ER with me), crying, I felt like I would never get answers; however, that is when I first met Dr. Ornelas. He told me I was going to be admitted and I needed emergency surgery as my issue, if we waited any longer, could become more of a life or death situation.  In brief, understandable terms, I had a large bowel/intestine malrotation, and my colon was too long and I was born with a birth defect where all my innards were in my body upside down.  My diagnosis is also very rare, and its incidence has been reported to be between 0.0001% and 0.19% and is diagnosed 90% of the time in the first weeks of life or by age one . Also if a person with malrotation get to adulthood, once it flares up, if not treated, a person has 3-4 weeks to live (John Hopkins). This phenomena develops between weeks 5 and 10 of pregnancy, so the fact that I made it to age 40 is quite astonishing.

He told me my surgery would be intense and I could come out "normal" with staples, with staples and a temporary ostomy bag, or I would have to go on a ventilator for a few days to allow my body to heal; it was at this suggestion I burst out into larger tears, realizing the severity of the issue at hand and so thankful we landed at the ER.  The hardest part was hearing all these choices alone; Dr. O assured me I would be able to see Mark once I was prepped for surgery.  He then went out and told Mark the same thing, and Mark immediately called mom and told her she needed to come see me before surgery.  

Once prepped for surgery, I didn't have to wait too long.  I got some time with my mom and Mark until I was wheeled away. I was in tears and more scared than I had ever been in my life. My mom assured me (fighting back her own tears...I saw them) I would be ok, but I think all three of us were quite nervous.  

I remember being scooped from the "bed" to the operating table; the nurse telling me to take as deep breaths as I could and to count backwards from (a number I don't remember).  The next thing I remember was waking up in recovery, alone, with a nurse standing over me telling me again, to take deep breaths, and that I was a trooper and did great.  She told me my pain would be horrible for a bit, but that it would subside.  My surgery lasted about 1 hour and 45 minutes. I groggily nodded. I missed Mark and my mom.

It was not until close to 10pm a room opened up on Floor 7: the floor that would be home for almost a week. Upon arrival, mom and Mark were there waiting for me and I met the first of 4 nurses that would be integral to my recovery:  Karen.  I had Karen two of my nights while on Floor 7.  She was so patient and caring and explained everything to me so I had no questions.  She did her best to make me feel comfortable in a situation where that wasn't even possible.  My throat was killing me due to the NG tube, and Karen snuck a few ice chips to me to try to ease the pain as we waited for a throat spray to be prescribed to better subdue the pain.  I remember being awake enough to ask what to do if I had to go to the bathroom (I guess this is the runner in me...always looking for bathrooms) to which she told me I had a catheter, and would not be moving for at least 24 hours. I learned this first night, sleep was not really a thing because I was checked on every 2 hours; trust me, I am not complaining.  

I was on two different pain medicines and a muscle relaxer for the majority of my stay. I also had to get a lovenox shot in my stomach each day to prevent blood clots and wear Normatek-like leggings on my calfs to also help with the prevention of blood clots. I was also on a heart monitor until the last day. On my second to last day I had to get my IV port moved to my other arm, and also by the last day taking blood from me became difficult for the nurses, but they told me that was because I was in such good shape, and being in good shape is going to help me recover better than if I were not. Also, on the second to last night,  I couldn't have any of my medicine due to my heart rate and blood pressure being too low.

The next several days had me with my daytime nurse, Helena, and my pm nurse, Jeff. Lisa was my day nurse my last two days.They were all as amazing as they all went above and beyond answering my myriad of questions.  I remember when Helena told me I could advance to a clear diet after what seemed like FOREVER. I remember how amazing the clear food tasted. I asked a lot of questions, and no one ever tried to not answer me or get me answers.  The nurses had to teach me how to get out of bed to minimize impact on my wound and how to sit down and stand up.  They had to walk me to and from the bathroom once the catheter was removed. I also, once I got the NG tube removed, started learning about what amazing people my nurses were: a former Marine, someone who lived in Germany for 10 years and switched from truck driving to nursing, mothers, fathers, friends.  HUMANS...COMPASSIONATE, CARING HUMANS, that all were ALL-IN to get me to be my best in the hospital and once I was released.

Each morning Dr. Derryberry (one of Dr. O's assistants) came in to inspect my incision; he also removed my NG tube and took off the protective covering/dressing of the incision. I was told, depending on my healing process, the tube could possibly have to go back in, but luckily I did not have to do that.  Around 10am, Dr. O would come and give me more elaborate information than Dr. D. 

On the last day Dr. D came in I asked if he had pics of my insides, he grinned, and said yes and asked if I wanted to see. I said yes, and once I saw the pics I finally understood the severity of what went down. By this day I had a bit of a sense of humor back and asked Dr. D if this was his new "bragging" pic when the doctors compared what they did, he said ABSOLUTELY! LOL. My colon is likely famous now!  Dr. O, later that day allowed my mom to take pics of his pics from his phone.

On top of my fabulous nurses, my mom, Mark, dad, Kenz, Cait, Hannah, Julia, and Sydney helped pass 12 hours of visitation a day so I did not have to be alone. Once I was given the green light to walk, they walked me around Floor 7; they helped me to the bathroom, and did my hair, all to give me a mental boost.  When it came almost time to go there was two things standing in my way:  solid food and pooping.  Luckily, I was advanced to solid food (jumping the non-clear liquid diet).  I figured this might help the second obstacle more than broth.The solid food did not do what I wanted to to so when, on Sunday, the doctor wrote my go home orders on the condition I poop, I asked Mark to bring me a coffee when he came to visit me, and low and behold that was the magic that got me released to go home.

As exciting as it was to go home, I quickly realized this was also going to be a big transition as I didn't have around the clock care or have to be woke up every 2 hours, I had to adjust to wearing clothes (well, sweats) instead of a hospital gown, and I was now going to be fully dependent on the people who love and support me, not a hospital staff.  

My parents came over soon after I got home, and mom helped me shower for the first time in close to a week. It is a very humbling experience to have you mom help bathe you at 40 years old, but I am also thankful to have my mom, dad, Mark, and Willow-pants.  They bathe me, clothe me, clean for me, and cook for me.  It is all quite overwhelming.

As each day passes now, I get stronger, and I realize just how lucky I am to be alive. I get emotional whenever I try to talk about this or type, which is what it has taken me so long to write this. I am sure I am leaving out important information, but at the end of the day I am thankful and blessed.

My mom and Mark both deserve an award for how they handled themselves. I don't know (especially, how Mark) remained so calm and collected. He is not big on hospitals, needles, sickness...anything like that, so for him to hit this out of the park show his love and dedication (not that it was ever questioned before).

I am also abundantly grateful for all of the outpouring of love and support from my family and friends.  I am overwhelmed by the amount of love that has been showered on me, and I am truly lucky to have such amazing people in my life.  Sometimes it takes an "oh shit" moment to put life and what is important into perspective.

I go for my follow up on the 28th with Dr. O.  

I know I am out of commission until at least January 31, and I am still not quite sure what the recovery process will look like. I am sure I will learn more next week.

Until then, cheers to friends, family, and life and MEDICINE/SCIENCE/DOCTORS/NURSES.  These people are all AMAZING and LITERAL life savers.