I have been wanting to write this past week about the wonderful feelings of being home, but honestly, I was afraid that I would somehow jinx myself or awaken from this wonderful dream to find myself back in the nightmare of being in the hospital. I finally feel well enough and strong enough to believe that will not happen (I"ll pray not again anyway, just to be on the safe side). I truly think I have a touch of PTSD or something similar because I have not really allowed myself to go back and think about my experience in much detail. In fact, it took me until yesterday, just to book my return visits to all of my doctors because I just can't bear the thought of making the drive and walking back into that hospital. It was truly a hellish experience interspersed with incredible moments of being the recipient of true miracles. There were times of complete darkness and times of overwhelming love and light. Over the next days and posts, I hope to share my experience so that some sense of all of this can come to me. But right now... I am home!
Two weeks ago, this morning my doctors were at the foot of my bed informing me that because my condition had not changed over the past several days, surgery would need to be performed on Monday or Tuesday. That day marked the 22nd day with an NG tube and no food or drink. The prior CT scans had shown a large bowel obstruction of inflamed intestine, infection and scar tissue. The plan had been to let my body heal itself, by completely shutting down the bowel activities. After three weeks, and no bowel sounds or activity, it was time for medical intervention. They had waited this long because my body was so fragile after the two earlier surgeries and the enormous wound that had been caused by the MRSA (the size of my whole hand, plus about 1" deep, completely open wound). I had terrible counts to ward off infection even though I had been on IV antibiotics for almost 7 weeks. I would be walking in, unprotected, to an infection battlefield. It would also tack on at least another three weeks of being hospitalized, attached to the TPN feedings and NG tube. It was so overwhelmingly terrible to even think about, yet plan on doing within 48 hours.
Plus, I was alone. My constant companion, Ken, was at Villanova for Parent's Weekend with Tessa. Torrie was at home for football practice and to take care of my furbabies. I missed my children desperately and was heartbroken that I was missing the opportunity to see Tessa, to hear her sing, and to just hold onto to her. I felt so dark and empty inside. I wasn't able to meditate to relax, nothing seemed to calm my insides. Even God felt very far away from me...
To make matters worse, a huge mistake involving my pain medication was about to happen. At that point, I was receiving pain medication every two hours. By the two hour mark, the pain was so high, that it that it never became controlled. The nurses put in for a pump that I could administer by own dose and not get too far behind the pain. It all seemed well and good except the doses that I was receiving were three times the strength that I was supposed to have had. This was on Sunday afternoon, so by the time Ken got there Sunday night on his return from Villanova, I was already at the beginning stages of being overmedicated. By the time he arrived back on Monday morning, even though I had not pressed the pump at all during the night, I was barely conscious. I remember horrible nightmares caused by the hallucinations of the medication, plus trying to communicate to Ken and not being able to. At one point, I told Ken that I thought I was dying. Somehow (this is one of the miracles) I was able to tell Ken "it's too much medicine". He called the nurses and the mistake was caught. While this was happening to me, plans for surgery were still happening. I was to go down for a final CTscan, to help the doctors navigate when they began the procedure of looking at every piece of intestine and cutting away blockages. They tried to force me to drink the huge amount of contrast; I begged them not to, as I knew it would all be thrown up. From that delirious drug-induced state, I felt like I was in a wide awake nightmare. Ken had to leave in early evening to go home and get ready to stay with me overnight after surgery the next day. It was the darkest moment for me and I prayed to God for His will to be done... I surrendered. The Ct scan finally happened at 9:00 that night, I remember nothing until I was awoken by my Dr. at 5:30 the next morning.
In her words, "I can't believe it." The blockages were gone. Completely. No surgery. Miracle (another).
That was Tuesday morning, the same day as the surgery was planned for. Ken arrived and I shared the incredible news. Later that day, I was allowed to have ice chips to start the bowels up again. By Tuesday night, I was having sips of water in addition to the IV nutrition. Everything stayed down, but still no bowel sounds. Wednesday morning I was given jello and clear liquids, by Wednesday night I was on a soft diet and bowel sounds were now audible. Thursday morning brought the long awaited full diet status and the bowels began to kick into gear. I thought I heard the words "discharge to home care imminent'... And Saturday afternoon, I was home.
Thank you everyone, for my miracles, as a result of your prayers!
God Bless You,
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