Surgery was...well...it's over.
You ready? This is gonna get kinda long. And detailed. Don't proceed, if you can't handle it.
I woke up from surgery a little over three hours after they took me back. I must have looked silly, because I immediately started groping my stomach, trying to see if I could feel any incisions, or if they were able to go with the original plan of no outside incisions. Whew! I couldn't feel anything.
But, as I realized that my surgery took an hour longer than it should have and I saw the stressed face of my doctor approaching me...I knew something was up. I have never seen my doctor look stressed. Not when my water broke at 29 weeks with Ryleigh, not when he was delivering Presley at 33 weeks. Never.
He proceeded to tell me that I had massive scar tissue and it created a challenging surgery. My uterus had grown to my c-section scar (causing it to tip at a strange angle, which caused the complications during the ablation attempt) and my bladder. He said that it was incredibly complicated removing my uterus, basically having to "peel" it from all the scarring and other organs. To add to it, I was bleeding quite a bit.
I laid there, processing it all and waking up a bit more. About 30 minutes later, he came back and I asked him to tell me everything again, now that I was more awake. He repeated everything he told me before, including that he told Josh that this was the most complicated hysterectomy that he has ever done and that there is a 50/50 chance that I will be returning to the OR for internal bleeding.
They injected morphine into my spinal canal, so I wasn't in any pain. That first day, I was able to visit with Josh and laugh with my nurse as she emptied the bag connected to my catheter. My urine contained so much blood that it looked like I was peeing cranberry juice!
By the middle of the next day, the morphine had worn off and I was in pain. I was taking Percocets orally and an anti inflammatory intravenously. When that wasn't enough, my doctor ordered Morphine. My nurse was concerned with the dosage (12 mg) and we decided that injecting 6 mg, waiting thirty minutes and then injecting the other 6 mg, was the best course of action. I also had a healthy dose of Fenergan on board, with each dose, to combat the guaranteed nausea. I had two really great nurses, while I was there.
After evaluating me that day, my doctor decided that I needed to be watched one more day, in the hospital. I asked him if the pain that I was feeling was normal and he stated that for a typical hysterectomy, no. However, with the trauma that I had endured, he fully expected me to me in severe pain and have my recovery take longer than expected.
That night, my friend Nikki stayed at the hospital with me, so that Josh could get all the kids home, from other friend's houses. It's such a blessing that she was there, because my night was about to get crazy.
The nurse I had that night was incompetent and arrogant. She barely talked to me when she was in the room and seemed very irritated by anything I needed. Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I hate to ask for things in hospitals. I will wait, in pain, for hours, until the nurse comes to check on me, rather than ring the bell and bother them. So, it wasn't that I was constantly asking for things. I'm not sure why she was acting so aggravated.
When I asked her for my morphine and explained how we had been administering it all day, she didn't want to give it to me. I was in near tears, as I told her how much pain I was in. She finally agreed to give me the medication (the medication that my doctor prescribed me) and injected the first 6 mg. When I say injected, I mean injected. She shot it into my IV so fast, that it burned the hell out of my arm. To add to it, she didn't have the Fenergan already hanging. She promptly left the room, as I sat there rubbing my burned arm, and the nausea quickly set in. Then, I proceeded to vomit, for the next 5 minutes.
Nikki summoned her to the room and advised her that I needed Fenergan, immediately. She was incredibly irritated and advised us that she would have to call down to the pharmacy for some and we'd have to wait while they mixed it. Then...she left the room again.
She returned about 10 minutes later and told us that it was going to take too long for the pharmacy to mix it, so she proceeded to inject the other 6 mg of morphine (burning my arm, yet again) and then some Zofran. Then...she left the room again.
Now, this part I don't remember, but Nikki told me about it later. Apparently my monitors went nuts. The nurse never returned. My heart rate dropped into the 40's and my oxygen sats dropped to the low 60's. The nurse never returned. Nikki slapped the oxygen on me and spent the next 20 minutes shaking me awake. The nurse never returned.
My doctor returned in the morning and I told him about the nurse that tried to kill me. He was still concerned with my pain and nausea and told me that we'd watch me through the day. A couple hours later, the charge nurse decided that I was well enough to go home and I was left calling Josh, telling him to come pick me up.
It's now been 8 days since my surgery and I am still exhausted. (I actually had to type this over 3 days. All I want to do is sleep.) I am still in quite a bit of pain and as of this morning...out of pain medication. I have been waiting since yesterday for my doctor's nurse to return my phone calls.
Seriously, what is it with nurses not wanting to do their jobs? I cannot wait to finish school and become a nurse. If a person doesn't want to deal with the public, the sick public, then why go into this field?
Being sick is hard enough. Having to deal with incompetent people, who don't care, just makes it so much worse. I hate to ask for help. I hate even more when I ask...and I'm made to feel like an annoyance that can be dealt with later.
**Update** Doc just called. Woo hoo! More medication waiting for me at the pharmacy! :)