Liver Surgery

To be completely honest, my memory of this hospital stay is hit or miss. I went into surgery praying they would use my port, but then they "didn't have the right needle". Emory University Hospital. Didn't have the right needle!? The same hospital the CDC sent Ebola patients. Rrright!? We made a deal, as long as the IV could be switched to port after surgery. It took 9 pokes before they even found a vein. Then as each vein failed during surgery, they had to find another. I awoke from surgery with an IV line in my wrist, elbow, and neck. Ever had an IV in your neck? 

The most. 

UNCOMFORTABLE. 

IV placement. 

Ever!

[Not even going to mention the super fun part when they removed the neck IV and the adhesive from the tape pulled my skin off.]

They were nice enough to start my IV drip for pain early, so I awoke from surgery in much less pain than usual. (I'm usually in non-existent tears "screaming" barely a whisper 10...it's a TEN!) By that evening I was able to comfortably sit in a bed side chair, and the next day I was out walking working hard toward a quick recovery.

And then it happened...

In every caregiver story, there is a moment that occurs that scares you to death. It's the moment you truly realize you hold someone else's life/death decision making powers. This was Fred's moment. And most of this comes from Fred...

The second night I fell asleep around 8:00 pm. The nurse tech came in an started taking my vitals. She notes my O2 levels dropped dramatically to around 35%. Normally they don't want O2 to fall below 90%. My right lung had collapsed. Fred quickly went to get help. I was hooked up to high capacity oxygen and moved into the ICU, where I awoke to another barrage of needles. I counted 26 pokes. "We only poke twice." Per nurse! (I can only imagine the call for backup and a line of nurses, 26/2 = 13 nurses.) I was out of it, I completely forgot I had been through surgery, and kept asking them (terrified) if this would change my surgery date. 

By the time the ICU doctor started asking the basic questions I was still out of it. Typical who is President, where did you go to school, do you have pets/what are their names. Snuggles & Seven. No...Seven & Dexter (Snuggles had passed a good five years ago). I looked at Fred terrified and in tears. 

Fun story. This doctor is the sister of an old high school friend. The Laird sisters have unmistakable piercing blue eyes. I could recognize that, but not recall my pets names. I think asking if she was who I thought she was put her at ease medically. 

My stay in ICU continued with more tests until they finally found the collapse was caused by a clot in my right lung. Just earned myself six months on blood thinner meds. After three days in ICU, I was moved to a regular room with regular nurses. In prison terms, general population. And in hospital terms, I'm pretty sure the experience is the same. 

I was going to go into a bitter diatribe about my stay and care in "general population", but I prefer not to go there. If you're stuck at Emory, you want the specialty floor & nurses. In general, my stay at Emory taught me to fight. I will not be poked another 26 times in a row while someone searches for a vein and refuses to use my port. It taught me I know my body better than anyone else, and it's okay to refuse meds. I will not take ridiculous meds that I know do more harm than good. 

Of course, when you're drugged, the fight gets harder, and that's where always having someone present to help you fight becomes necessary...

At one point our AC went out at home, and Fred had to leave to get it repaired before I was released. Enter our dear friend J. A friend that had her own health issues she had been fighting through the last two years (TWO YEARS!), but she dropped everything to stay with me while he was away. And fight we did! When the doctors made their rounds the next morning, I told them I was leaving that day and didn't care if it was AMA. I couldn't put up with the nursing staff one more day. 

Usually I don't make such a ruckus, and later apologized to the doctor. I explained the nurse care was frustrating, and the doctor really didn't seem too surprised. The day I was released, the nurse was fighting with the doctor in front of me. I mean, I don't know hospital policy, but fairly certain that's a no-no. In the very least it's classless, but a testament to the care I received in GenPop. 

MRI Check Up

Most people tend to get nervous before their MRI check ups, but because I had a CT that showed clear shrinkage I was feeling pretty good. At least until we started driving, and then nerves kicked in anyway. 

Dr. S (Surgeon 2) scheduled a consultation immediately following the MRI. I was expecting good news. What I got was the exact opposite. 

I have one lesion on the liver that measures 1.5 cm. What I was told is now I had four lesions. Four! (Somehow I remained fairly calm, fairly certain it was shock.) We were told I have one lesion in the middle, three surrounding. 

Then Fred asked about the markers he had placed during the MRI assisted biopsy. Blank face. "You had markers placed? How many?" (Um, yeah...three and YOU ordered them!) "Well, the radiologist is having a hard time reading the MRI." (Well, how about you & the radiologist read my damn chart before you unnecessarily scare a patient to death!) "I want to see you again after the radiologist has more time, I prefer in-person consultations." 

And then he started asking me questions about my ostomy surgery. He couldn't read the surgeon's handwriting. Totally get that, but maybe call the surgeon and ask him. (The questions were far too technical for a patient to answer, and others I simply didn't know.) 

Surgeon 2 questioning me about the ostomy and not Surgeon 1. The fact that he clearly hadn't read my chart and refreshed himself on my case before the consultation. I was left with a bad feeling about this surgeon, and if there is one thing I've learned it's trust my instincts! I went home that night and started searching for a second opinion. If he didn't straighten himself out by the next appointment, I was moving on!

The next appointment. He immediately starts talking surgery. We had to ask him for the MRI results. "It's shrunk 50%." (Okay, what about the other "lesions".) "They were reading the markers as lesions." (Thank you Jesus! ...MORONS! Next time read the chart!)

That's it. Very matter of fact. No excitement or fist-bump like Dr. H (my oncologist). But at least he had a conversation with Surgeon 1 and could clearly talk surgery and recommendations. 

Going Forward:  [TMI'ish Warning]

Liver resection surgery is planned for August 18th. Because of the location it will NOT be laparoscopic. I had already assumed that based the difficult biopsies. Recovery time is 4 weeks (I'll be in the hospital at least 5-days). 

The original colonoscopy didn't get past the bowel blockage. As a precaution, he wants to close the gap and get the other half checked. (I already had a consultation scheduled with Dr. T, a GI doctor.)

Diagnosis

At the end of February, I was sick. Terrible stomach cramps, vomiting to the point of dehydration. Fred and I had tickets to Oysterfest and I was thinking I would meet up with him later, nope. By the time he got home I was deciding between urgent care or going to the ER. I let him sleep and when he woke up the next morning I had decided ER. 

I was given some fluids in the ER, and they did a CT scan. There was a spot on my colon, but the doctor assumed it was inflamed because I was sick. I was recommended a surgeon, but more of an "eh, if you get around to it". My symptoms continued, so we made an appointment. 

By the time we got to the surgeon, I just knew it was endometriosis related. From my last surgery, I know my uterus is stuck to my intestines. It had to be that it entered my intestines/colon. Even given family history my surgeon (Dr. E) kept assuring me it probably wasn't cancer. I was admitted to the hospital for a colonoscopy. 

Fast forward. I had a bowel obstruction & was wheeled into surgery. 

I awoke to a body that felt like a bomb had gone off. Eighteen inch vertical abdominal incision, 34 staples, and a temporary ostomy to boot. Yeah, the poop bag. Later on I would be grateful for my tummy gremlin (stoma), but in the beginning I truly hated my body. 

I was alone when I was given the cancer diagnosis. And that was the day I learned how much of a mental game I had ahead. That day I fell apart. It was student nurse day. I was breaking mentally, and my body reacted physically. The nurse & student nurse didn't notice. The patient care tech took one look and knew I needed to relax. She gave me my first bed bath, and helped me calm myself. I'll be forever grateful for her care. 

My brother and Fred arrived at the same time. How do you tell your husband we're about to start another cancer journey? Again?! So soon after we had lost my dad, to the same damn cancer? I whispered it to my brother first, and I guess that gave me enough strength to speak it into existence. Stage III Colon Cancer, possible spot on the liver. 

Recovering from surgery, cancer diagnosis, and having to learn how to manage this new body was impossible. Fred jumped in and learned everything. From helping the ostomy nurse, to sponge baths, to distracting me so I could push through the next pain med, Fred became my saving grace. At one point he was helping me shower and wash my hair, and I look down at myself naked, body ripped apart, belching like a man and just start laughing. I tell him I've never felt sexier. The truth is I have never felt more loved. This man is truly my super hero. 

We quickly learned I was given the worst care when I didn't have someone sitting with me, so Fred started lining up "babysitters". Friends that would stay with me, and give him time off to take care of our house, rest and wrap his head around what was happening. Friends that held my hand, rubbed my feet, and helped me feel human. I even had friends jump in and help the ostomy nurse. I have some GREAT friends, and words don't exist to express my gratitude. 

My hospital room smelled like a floral shop!

I was released from the hospital after 6 days, and I spent the next month recovering. Based on how easy it was to get up and walk after surgery I expected an easy recovery, it wasn't.