Post Op day 3
Everything is going swimmingly. I remember nothing from the time that my surgeon stopped by to chat pre-op to waking up in recovery where a nurse tenderly smoothed the crease between my eyebrows and my forehead to get me to relax. My nurse for daytime Friday and Saturday, Genevieve, was an angel. An angel who looked all of 12 years old, but an angel nonetheless. She was full of good humor and tenderness. Friday night's nurse, Joan aka Nurse Ratched, was the complete antithesis to lovingkindness. Wretched woman who forced me to "shoot" three ounces of liquid vicodin into a two ounce stomach pouch. I got about halfway through before I begged for the IV dilaudid I'd been getting and phenergan.
Genevieve and Dr. Fitzer got an earful about her on Saturday.
We decided that I should stay one more night since I wasn't ingesting the needed amount of fluids except via IV. Sunday's nurse, Shawntal, another 12 year old, was the tough love nurse and got me up and moving. Over the course of three outings, I managed to walk seven laps or one mile around the ward. I could also sip broth, jell-o, and water and was given the go-ahead to go home.
Last night was kind of rough with a fair amount of gas pain in my shoulders and ribs as well as being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. I'm also craving scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries like whoa. I whinged about being hungry to wombatgirl. I didn't think I was supposed to be hungry. She patiently explained that was head hunger and my poor, abused tummy had no idea what it really wanted.
Today's been better. Very little pain, although I sound a bit like Homer Simpson with all the belching. I still want breakfast foods something fierce have noted on the kitchen calendar exactly when I can introduce solid-er foods (scrambled eggs, t-minus twelve days).
Scott and I going on a shopping jaunt a little later today for the exercise and more jell-o and maybe a few more sippy cups. So far, so good.
Genevieve and Dr. Fitzer got an earful about her on Saturday.
We decided that I should stay one more night since I wasn't ingesting the needed amount of fluids except via IV. Sunday's nurse, Shawntal, another 12 year old, was the tough love nurse and got me up and moving. Over the course of three outings, I managed to walk seven laps or one mile around the ward. I could also sip broth, jell-o, and water and was given the go-ahead to go home.
Last night was kind of rough with a fair amount of gas pain in my shoulders and ribs as well as being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. I'm also craving scrambled eggs, bacon, and home fries like whoa. I whinged about being hungry to wombatgirl. I didn't think I was supposed to be hungry. She patiently explained that was head hunger and my poor, abused tummy had no idea what it really wanted.
Today's been better. Very little pain, although I sound a bit like Homer Simpson with all the belching. I still want breakfast foods something fierce have noted on the kitchen calendar exactly when I can introduce solid-er foods (scrambled eggs, t-minus twelve days).
Scott and I going on a shopping jaunt a little later today for the exercise and more jell-o and maybe a few more sippy cups. So far, so good.