Hospital stay
Whew, what an eventful week.
Typing it out is going to exhaust me.
Wednesday I went for the MRI that we got at the last minute, followed by oncologist consult. He booked me immediately into the hospital for a colostomy that night and a cat scan. He said from what he could see it didn't look like my cancer was spread, so that is hopeful.
I went in and the ER people acted like I was some privileged brat to get a bed so soon. Pffft, screw you asshole, it's not up to me and I'm not to blame. I just said "I guess I deserve it." he said "lots of people here do." I responded "well my doctor seems to think it important." Fucker. How dare he make me feel bad about it? He doesn't even know what's going on with me!
So Wednesday was interesting. The MRI was fascinating and I actually felt the magnetic field moving. The catscan was relatively boring after that. Then more time sitting around ER and up to a bed and shortly after, whisked away into oblivion to wake up in the wee hours almost screaming in pain. I don't scream in pain, I cry and whimper and squeak and shake and work my damndest not to discomfit people in ear shot. Oh I could have screamed if I were alone, but I hate hearing other people suffer and so I don't want to put it on them. Just because I'm suffering doesn't mean they should have to if I can help it, so I try. Well they'd put me down with the call bell in hand and I pressed it and waited. I wish I'd known it had a double-press for emergency and I wouldn't have had to wait so long but they came in and drugged me back to sleep. Wednesday was spent trying to be passed out while they tried to get me waking up and walking. By evening I was taking strolls in the hallways. They said it would help my bowels return to function. I'm up for that. So I've been walking till I get exhausted, then walking some more. Dan set up the treadmill when he got me home today. I'll get on it later after I rest and digest.
The nurses kept offering pain killers but I felt the pain was less disabling than the drugs so I kept it as light as I could. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of druggie but I really am not. I just like hash, it helps with anxiety! I can't cough, though, so not sure how much I can get away with smoking. Tried a little puff and it didn't do anything nor bother my lungs, this morning.
The hospital is no place for an empath. I just wanted to reach out and make everyone feel better and I couldn't even reach out, let alone help. I tried a bit with my roommate Mary, but she really just doesn't give a shit anymore. She has no language for the last year due to stroke, and now had a broken arm, dead digestion, and no joy at all. I couldn't for the life of me think how to make her feel better, especially as I really didn't want to be so damned social. Everyone's gotta smile and nod and make words as you walk by. Busy place, meant I never could just be moody. What's more, there was an MRSA outbreak *on my ward* and that had me nervous as hell. I was using contagion rules, touch nothing outside your own room without a sleeve or using elbows, etc.
The food. Oh. My. God. I knew it was bad but I couldn't believe it could be THAT bad. Seriously, what the actual fuck people? If I get enough strength back I must at least write a letter about it, however little good it'll do. How do you heal people on empty dead food? Mostly it was cereal and sugar and everything was overdone, frozen, reconstituted, reheated, and old. Even the fresh wasn't fresh by the time it had been prepped, shipped across town, repacked, reprepped, and trucked around the halls. The fish inspired in me a round of "does your chewing gum lose it's flavour on the bedpost overnight" and, although we were in supper, prompted Mary to ring the nurse to tell me to keep it down. I was a lot less friendly with her after that. Fuck you, lady. I listen to you bitching in moans and "no no no" (she has three words, hello, mary, and no" and groaning at every fucking little thing. Refusing to co-operate with your care and then you hassle me over a moment of cheer? So kind of just ignored her and did the smile and nod thing after that. I lost another five pounds in three days in there just because I couldn't eat most of the food they brought. They kept sticking muffins and powdered reconstituted potatoes and eggs, wooden steamed veggies and other crap. I got dan to bring in some boiled eggs and coconut water for me. I had a sip of almond milk first thing and it made me projectile vomit so for the first day I stuck with the coconut water and eggs. I talked to the staff and learned that I couldn't so much as get an apple or some carrots so I called Iris thursday morning and asked her to bring in some freshies. Greens, carrots, and she brought yummy raspberries and cheese. Must get more raspberries. Yummy. So mostly I fed myself and picked at the melons that arrived with all the non-food. I thought today I'd get something decent as I'd picked items off the menu but they never followed it, didn't even bring the one thing I'd asked for at breakfast. Idiots. I whined and the nurse found me some prune juice. Yummy. I was told by the docs I'd go home saturday, then the stoma nurse (colostomy specialist) told me no way before monday, then the docs came in this morning and said "yes way" and I was deep in sleep, dan gone to work and Iris off unavailable weekends, and they woke me to say "you're going home now." Goddamn it. I said "my husband can't get me till supper time" and they acted like this was a problem. I guess that's how they clear a bed when someone downstairs is in need? I called Dan and he was able to make time so I'm home now.
My belly. Well there's a zipper under my belly button, about 3" long and vertical. It's tender and I know I have to be careful to ensure nothing gets torn. My bowels, so long idle, are acting like Mary about it all, trying hard to just go back to sleep all day. I'm feeding them fiber and stuff to counteract that. Lots of small meals. Soon as there's room in my shrunken stomach I put a little more down and eat till it complains. Just on the verge of nausea.
the colostomy. Look it up. Its disgusting. The original bag smelled constatnly, like a campground outhouse. The new version is much better. It's got a charcoal filter window for the gas and seals well, so it's odorless except when doing maintenance. The maintenance is going to take some time to stop me from shuddering every time but at least at home I've got wet wipes and decent toilet paper for the job. You don't change it all the time, you dump it and leave it filthy, just cleaning the end where the dumping and then folding up goes on. I think the worst is there's no fart control and it always sounds super loud. So I could be wandering around the fresh food aisles handling my veggies and suddenly a loud long ripping fart emits from me. Odorless thanks to the filter, but loud enough that everyone will turn and look. That's going to take some thinking. Maybe it's only if I'm eating gassy food?
So far I still have diarrhea, so it's grosser than it will be when things are healthy again. I've started my supplements, including probiotics to get things working right again. At least I can eat. Anything, almost, that I wish. I was advised to avoid tough fibers like celery and fruit skins, as they can block up in the unhappy belly.
The cancer. Well we first get my health back up, let the surgery heal and stuff. I'm so skinny and weak. No way I'd make it through treatment. Then it's radiation and chemo and I know nothing yet about it except everyone says it's hell. I don't know if it's inpatient or out, or if it's relative hell that for me will be in fact merely shitty. I do know that when other people say it's hell, it's usually just purgatory, and I've been through hells they can't imagine. I guess I just am as strong as everyone says. But I wish they wouldn't assume it so quickly because they think that equals "doesn't need anything." I get so neglected. Last night they kept putting me off. I really wanted my hair washed. I really couldn't stand the extra IV needle in my elbow preventing me from bending my arm. The night nurse came on, after the day nurse failed to keep her promise to arrange anything. She asked me how I was feeling. I was in tears and said I was depressed. Told her I just wanted the oily plaster feeling off my scalp and the needle out my arm. She complied. Took out the needle and set me up at a sink with some shampoo. Cheered me right back up. I got back to my room and noticed the little rental tv had a light shining. Odd. Okay, lets see if it works. It does! Now I was downright happy. I watched a stupid old movie and went to sleep. Got woken repeatedly as they do in hospital, watched a buster keaton movie in the morning over my boiled egg and greens and coconut water, and felt lucky for a change.
Timmy. Oh poor little dog. I called him friday afternoon and he howled and howled into the phone like a demon. When I got back he still seemed scared like this wasn't real but he's napping now and seems a lot more content.
So, that was an interesting experience I don't appreciate. I go back Monday for some adjustments to my belly and there's a doctor appt in the afternoon. He plans a complete exam then, although with all the vitals they kept at the hospital there won't be as much to examine. The oncologist checked out the fibroid in my vagina and said it didn't look particularly dangerous to him. I won't check it out again till I can bathe, after my stitches come out. For now it's going to be a shower hose and very careful washing. I'll miss my bath. I can bathe fine with the colostomy once it's all healed and adjusted, so baths won't be lost forever.
I'm so tired. So light and weak. So thin. I love being thin, though. Really love it. Its more me than being heavy. Only I want more muscle on my frame. I need to be strong and athletic, lean and wiry. That's who I am, and who I will now become again. Well, unless the cancer kills me. learning it's not spread out to my lymph nodes, lungs, or breasts, that's giving me the first hope I've had all year. I could possibly survive.
I may even get the colostomy bag off in a year or two if they don't have to remove too much of my bowel. he said they can do another colonoscopy via the stoma (the new lump hole in my belly) to see what else is going on in there and that will tell us how much of my bowel will survive. However, the mass of illegal tissue is big as a baseball and my pelvis is too small, he can't cut it out without doing too much damage in there. So that's why the chemo first.
Ok, that ought to bring us up to speed. bye for now
Typing it out is going to exhaust me.
Wednesday I went for the MRI that we got at the last minute, followed by oncologist consult. He booked me immediately into the hospital for a colostomy that night and a cat scan. He said from what he could see it didn't look like my cancer was spread, so that is hopeful.
I went in and the ER people acted like I was some privileged brat to get a bed so soon. Pffft, screw you asshole, it's not up to me and I'm not to blame. I just said "I guess I deserve it." he said "lots of people here do." I responded "well my doctor seems to think it important." Fucker. How dare he make me feel bad about it? He doesn't even know what's going on with me!
So Wednesday was interesting. The MRI was fascinating and I actually felt the magnetic field moving. The catscan was relatively boring after that. Then more time sitting around ER and up to a bed and shortly after, whisked away into oblivion to wake up in the wee hours almost screaming in pain. I don't scream in pain, I cry and whimper and squeak and shake and work my damndest not to discomfit people in ear shot. Oh I could have screamed if I were alone, but I hate hearing other people suffer and so I don't want to put it on them. Just because I'm suffering doesn't mean they should have to if I can help it, so I try. Well they'd put me down with the call bell in hand and I pressed it and waited. I wish I'd known it had a double-press for emergency and I wouldn't have had to wait so long but they came in and drugged me back to sleep. Wednesday was spent trying to be passed out while they tried to get me waking up and walking. By evening I was taking strolls in the hallways. They said it would help my bowels return to function. I'm up for that. So I've been walking till I get exhausted, then walking some more. Dan set up the treadmill when he got me home today. I'll get on it later after I rest and digest.
The nurses kept offering pain killers but I felt the pain was less disabling than the drugs so I kept it as light as I could. Everyone thinks I'm some kind of druggie but I really am not. I just like hash, it helps with anxiety! I can't cough, though, so not sure how much I can get away with smoking. Tried a little puff and it didn't do anything nor bother my lungs, this morning.
The hospital is no place for an empath. I just wanted to reach out and make everyone feel better and I couldn't even reach out, let alone help. I tried a bit with my roommate Mary, but she really just doesn't give a shit anymore. She has no language for the last year due to stroke, and now had a broken arm, dead digestion, and no joy at all. I couldn't for the life of me think how to make her feel better, especially as I really didn't want to be so damned social. Everyone's gotta smile and nod and make words as you walk by. Busy place, meant I never could just be moody. What's more, there was an MRSA outbreak *on my ward* and that had me nervous as hell. I was using contagion rules, touch nothing outside your own room without a sleeve or using elbows, etc.
The food. Oh. My. God. I knew it was bad but I couldn't believe it could be THAT bad. Seriously, what the actual fuck people? If I get enough strength back I must at least write a letter about it, however little good it'll do. How do you heal people on empty dead food? Mostly it was cereal and sugar and everything was overdone, frozen, reconstituted, reheated, and old. Even the fresh wasn't fresh by the time it had been prepped, shipped across town, repacked, reprepped, and trucked around the halls. The fish inspired in me a round of "does your chewing gum lose it's flavour on the bedpost overnight" and, although we were in supper, prompted Mary to ring the nurse to tell me to keep it down. I was a lot less friendly with her after that. Fuck you, lady. I listen to you bitching in moans and "no no no" (she has three words, hello, mary, and no" and groaning at every fucking little thing. Refusing to co-operate with your care and then you hassle me over a moment of cheer? So kind of just ignored her and did the smile and nod thing after that. I lost another five pounds in three days in there just because I couldn't eat most of the food they brought. They kept sticking muffins and powdered reconstituted potatoes and eggs, wooden steamed veggies and other crap. I got dan to bring in some boiled eggs and coconut water for me. I had a sip of almond milk first thing and it made me projectile vomit so for the first day I stuck with the coconut water and eggs. I talked to the staff and learned that I couldn't so much as get an apple or some carrots so I called Iris thursday morning and asked her to bring in some freshies. Greens, carrots, and she brought yummy raspberries and cheese. Must get more raspberries. Yummy. So mostly I fed myself and picked at the melons that arrived with all the non-food. I thought today I'd get something decent as I'd picked items off the menu but they never followed it, didn't even bring the one thing I'd asked for at breakfast. Idiots. I whined and the nurse found me some prune juice. Yummy. I was told by the docs I'd go home saturday, then the stoma nurse (colostomy specialist) told me no way before monday, then the docs came in this morning and said "yes way" and I was deep in sleep, dan gone to work and Iris off unavailable weekends, and they woke me to say "you're going home now." Goddamn it. I said "my husband can't get me till supper time" and they acted like this was a problem. I guess that's how they clear a bed when someone downstairs is in need? I called Dan and he was able to make time so I'm home now.
My belly. Well there's a zipper under my belly button, about 3" long and vertical. It's tender and I know I have to be careful to ensure nothing gets torn. My bowels, so long idle, are acting like Mary about it all, trying hard to just go back to sleep all day. I'm feeding them fiber and stuff to counteract that. Lots of small meals. Soon as there's room in my shrunken stomach I put a little more down and eat till it complains. Just on the verge of nausea.
the colostomy. Look it up. Its disgusting. The original bag smelled constatnly, like a campground outhouse. The new version is much better. It's got a charcoal filter window for the gas and seals well, so it's odorless except when doing maintenance. The maintenance is going to take some time to stop me from shuddering every time but at least at home I've got wet wipes and decent toilet paper for the job. You don't change it all the time, you dump it and leave it filthy, just cleaning the end where the dumping and then folding up goes on. I think the worst is there's no fart control and it always sounds super loud. So I could be wandering around the fresh food aisles handling my veggies and suddenly a loud long ripping fart emits from me. Odorless thanks to the filter, but loud enough that everyone will turn and look. That's going to take some thinking. Maybe it's only if I'm eating gassy food?
So far I still have diarrhea, so it's grosser than it will be when things are healthy again. I've started my supplements, including probiotics to get things working right again. At least I can eat. Anything, almost, that I wish. I was advised to avoid tough fibers like celery and fruit skins, as they can block up in the unhappy belly.
The cancer. Well we first get my health back up, let the surgery heal and stuff. I'm so skinny and weak. No way I'd make it through treatment. Then it's radiation and chemo and I know nothing yet about it except everyone says it's hell. I don't know if it's inpatient or out, or if it's relative hell that for me will be in fact merely shitty. I do know that when other people say it's hell, it's usually just purgatory, and I've been through hells they can't imagine. I guess I just am as strong as everyone says. But I wish they wouldn't assume it so quickly because they think that equals "doesn't need anything." I get so neglected. Last night they kept putting me off. I really wanted my hair washed. I really couldn't stand the extra IV needle in my elbow preventing me from bending my arm. The night nurse came on, after the day nurse failed to keep her promise to arrange anything. She asked me how I was feeling. I was in tears and said I was depressed. Told her I just wanted the oily plaster feeling off my scalp and the needle out my arm. She complied. Took out the needle and set me up at a sink with some shampoo. Cheered me right back up. I got back to my room and noticed the little rental tv had a light shining. Odd. Okay, lets see if it works. It does! Now I was downright happy. I watched a stupid old movie and went to sleep. Got woken repeatedly as they do in hospital, watched a buster keaton movie in the morning over my boiled egg and greens and coconut water, and felt lucky for a change.
Timmy. Oh poor little dog. I called him friday afternoon and he howled and howled into the phone like a demon. When I got back he still seemed scared like this wasn't real but he's napping now and seems a lot more content.
So, that was an interesting experience I don't appreciate. I go back Monday for some adjustments to my belly and there's a doctor appt in the afternoon. He plans a complete exam then, although with all the vitals they kept at the hospital there won't be as much to examine. The oncologist checked out the fibroid in my vagina and said it didn't look particularly dangerous to him. I won't check it out again till I can bathe, after my stitches come out. For now it's going to be a shower hose and very careful washing. I'll miss my bath. I can bathe fine with the colostomy once it's all healed and adjusted, so baths won't be lost forever.
I'm so tired. So light and weak. So thin. I love being thin, though. Really love it. Its more me than being heavy. Only I want more muscle on my frame. I need to be strong and athletic, lean and wiry. That's who I am, and who I will now become again. Well, unless the cancer kills me. learning it's not spread out to my lymph nodes, lungs, or breasts, that's giving me the first hope I've had all year. I could possibly survive.
I may even get the colostomy bag off in a year or two if they don't have to remove too much of my bowel. he said they can do another colonoscopy via the stoma (the new lump hole in my belly) to see what else is going on in there and that will tell us how much of my bowel will survive. However, the mass of illegal tissue is big as a baseball and my pelvis is too small, he can't cut it out without doing too much damage in there. So that's why the chemo first.
Ok, that ought to bring us up to speed. bye for now