I’m very sorry for my absence. Last Sunday I had another attack of pain and was taken to the hospital. My condition was getting worse apparently, so on monday I had a Gastroscopy done which I unfortunately wasn’t allowed to remain awake and watch. Yes, I wanted to remain sedated but awake to watch. It’s like a grey Anatomy episode all for myself hahaha.
Anyways, They had to go in and see if there was anything else causing my problems and they found nothing. Therefore, I was left with nothing but a single option; surgery.
Tuesday around 5 p.m They rolled me into surgery and opened me up through four peeking holes in my stomach( one below my belly button, one in the middle right under my boobs and two right below my right ribcage). Once in surgery, they cut off and scraped away my gall bladder. They had to enter with a tube through my mouth too because there was apparently a very large stone stuck close to my main rube under the gall bladder (Huvudkanal). That was not fun to wake up to because I had bruises and scrapped skin in my throat from the breathing tube AND the tube to retrieve the stone being too much in my throat together.
The surgery was over around 3 hours later and I woke up around 9.30 pm ish. That was horrifying. The people I saw when I woke up in the ICU was not the people I closed my eyes to in the OR. I couldn’t talk from the pain in my throat, I didn’t recognise anyone and nurses kept pushing needles of painkillers into my arms and touching and checking everything on the monitors. All the medication, the stress, the anxiety of not being able to talk and the anesthesia became too much and I got fried.
I started crying.
I don’t know why but I could’t take it and I crying. I cried for someone to come; a familiar face at least. I think I was okay with the devil too at some point. The nurse by my side kept asking me to stop crying. I’M NOT GONNA STOP CRYING. WHO YOU? This might be your job, you might know that everything is gonna be okay and this might be a tiny thing in your eyes but I realised nurses quickly forget that the patients don’t go through this every day simply because you see it happen every day at work. So don’t you dare telling me to shut up and be quiet. Even if she was nice and kindly asked me to not cry it doesn’t matter. Everything was floating and for all I know I could have been in Mexico without a liver and two kidneys.
I hear her ask the other nurse if we can get someone down there and she looks at me and asks me if it matters if they call my mom or my dad and I whisper “Mom” as loudly as my throat could manage. Of corse it matters! Not for some weird reason but because my dad is as emotionally supportive and sensitive as a brick. I wasn’t gonna lay the and have my dad pat me on my shoulder saying I should toughen up because it was gonna go away soon. NO. I cried after my mother. The only person between the two of them that I knew could understand me without me having to say anything. The one that can wipe my tears and hold my hand. The one that knows that asking me to shake it off isn’t gonna work.
Parents work differently.
I didn’t know my mom was up in the floor I was staying at before the surgery, waiting for me. I thought she was home. It didn’t take long before they brought her down to the ICU and I felt so…safe once I saw here. I face I knew meant safety.
I was given a strong pineapple juice to help my get some sugar and also to make me pee. After surgery it’s very common that the patient can’t feel that they need to pee, they said. After making me drink two of those juice boxes, they helped me get to the bathroom. They rolled the bed to the bathroom door and helped me up.
Let me tell you something; that was not easy not fun. Every single movement hurt and I couldn’t use my stomach muscles; they were soar from the surgery. I’ve never been more grateful for handles next to toilet seats. I successfully peed and they let me rest for about an hour or so ni the ICU before taking me up to the room I was staying at. I convinced my mom to go home and sleep because she had to work the next day. She went home and I cried some more. Not because I was anxious or because I was in distress like earlier; this time I cried because I exhausted. Because of the situation I was in. Because I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without help. I was just tired of all of the sickness.
I stayed at the hospital until wednesday evening and was allowed to go home that evening. I can only eat smal portions of food for the first month, no exercising the stomach for the first 2 weeks and then slowly starting again. I have to drink a lot of water and be careful of my incisions so they don’t open up. Luckily there’s no stitches nor any staples; they used glue so I won’t have to go back. The glue will wash off bit by bit as my scars heal.
I’m kind of hoping for very visible scars so I can say I was in war and got shot four times while protecting my captain/first sergeant or something like that. That’ll be a good story. Or something like ” Two robbers was trying to kidnap my 1 year old baby sister and I got shot keeping her safe so they couldn’t take her”. Something like that could be very cool too hahaha. Or I’ll just say they removed my gall bladder because it was a bitch.
I took a break from blogging to take a shower and because I’m such a curious fucker I gently opened up the bandades( I also wanted to gently wash them off a little) and guess what? AIN’T NO GLUE UP IN THIS BITCH,NO! that’s right: IT’S ALL FUCKING STAPLES.
I HAVE A FUCKING REPORT IN MY HAND SAYING IT’S GLUE YET MY STOMACH LOOKS LIKE IT’S READY TO MATE WITH FRANKENSTEIN!!
what the actual fuck?! How can the doctor reassure me that it’s glue and that it’s wash off on it’s own when I have been chilling with 12 staples in my skin?
And don’t give me the ” everyone makes mistakes” bullshit because DOCTORS CAN’T MAKE MISTAKES. what if it was something more serious? A doctor’s mistake is a patients life. THEY.ARE.NOT.ALOUD.TO.MAKE.MISTAKES.
Guess who I’m calling tomorrow to rectify this shit? -.-
Screw this shit. I let them open me up, I trust them with me life and I’m left with false information and 12 staples.