I’m home from the hospital, and home from my intermediary stay at my parent’s house. I love them so much, but I couldn’t relax and I couldn’t sleep.
Still can’t really sleep, though. I cat nap through the day because I get exhausted. Sleep is a battle between my subconscious wanting to get comfy and my medical need to stay the fuck off of my drain bottle. I can’t sleep on my back, and sleeping on my side that doesn’t have the drain hurts for some unknown reason.
This last round of surgery was shit. And not just because I basically had to strong arm the doctor into getting off his ass and fucking doing it.
I said earlier that I wasn’t nervous about it because I genuinely wasn’t! I’ve had good surgery and bad surgery. The first one made me scared of hospitals for a while. The second one was perfect in every single way. And this one started great, it really did. I went in with stuff, my folks came, they hit me with some great shit before taking me upstairs into the surgery room and i can’t remember stuff. But then I woke up with a shitton of pain. That didn’t go away. And continued to not go away.
The nurses wanted me to get up and walk, but it was impossible because I was crying in pain. And this latest round of “hospital opiate use crackdown” shit (I know the new VA guidelines are for ER use, but people are shit) made the nurses ridiculously hesitant to give me medications. I remember getting fentanyl in the recovery room because I was crying. But you don’t give someone fentanyl one hour and then assume that tylenol and advil are gonna cut it the next.
The next day when I saw the doctor and complained he was all, “Well, we’re giving you dilaudid every 8 hours! You’re on three pain medications!” (He was including the tylenol and advil as tho that was anything to brag about.) So I tearfully said to knock off the tylenol and advil and give me something stronger, that can actually last 8 hours IV (which dilaudid can’t). He said fine, I could have it every 6 hours. But didn’t tell me that. He let the nurses tell me later on, after he was already gone. Did I mention that they were always late with the medicine? Yeah, I had to keep reminding them.
I kept crying.
At some point in the afternoon he approved a pain button, which made life SO MUCH easier. It let me start to get up and move. I did a bunch more walking around at 3am than when I wasn’t fucking crying.
The next morning I was told that the button was going away, because it was time to start putting food in my mangled, destroyed, broken stomach. I started pressing it as much as humanly possible because I didn’t know how the pain would be managed without it. I was pressing it, on average, every 2 hours. Being dragged out of sleep from pain.
After it was removed, and everything was checked for leaking, they gave me something called Hycet. It’s liquid and just a tiny bit stronger than vicodin. It tastes horrible. It’s also 7% alcohol and no one warned me. I downed it in one gulp and spent the next hour wishing for death. All other medications were given iv. I was told that I could have a dilaudid if I really needed it in 6 hours. I mean, fuck, the physical tablet medication says to take it every 4 hours. But whatever. They were still giving me the hycet and advil shit. I was still dying of pain. In the end I started to refuse the hycet all together because just when I’d be ok-ish again, that shit would burn my body with the fire of a million stars.
Finally I was told I could go home on the 3rd day. This time the doctor didn’t even come visit. He had his other doctor come. Who prescribed me dilaudid.
I’ve had a few more interactions with the hycet, and talked to my normal doctor, and he’s giving me something else. I can pick it up tonight at the pharmacy. My drain is getting taken out on Monday, so at least then life can start to get back to normal.
In other news I’m binging Psych, playing Fallout 4, wishing I could eat popcorn, and generally feeling like death. ❤