Starting from "the beginning" - we left around 5:30am on Tuesday (1/3/12) morning to head into the city and arrived just before 7am. Long story short, I was freaking out because no one was giving me anything to help me relax. I kept informing the nurses that were coming in and out of my "room" (more of a bed separated from other beds by sliding curtains...talk about privacy...) that I needed something to take the edge off before I was to go absolutely insane. The funny thing is, most of the nurses that were coming in to hook me up to something or obtain another piece of information or whatever else, remembered me from June - haha. I'm not sure if this is a good or bad thing. I guess it was good since they understood my anxious "condition" but at the same time, I'm sure they weren't excited to see the crazy chick with a Tourette's mouth back again.
There was a new woman from Pain Management that came to see me. When I explained to her that I needed to be as knocked out as possible without actually being knocked out prior to my epidural and being wheeled into surgery, she basically gave me a hard time. Bitch, I'm telling you what I need in order for me to keep myself from stabbing you in the jugular. Low and behold, she didn't give me enough. I was totally aware of what was happening when they were putting in the epidural, of course crying the entire time. I was aware when I said goodbye to my parents as I was being wheeled down the hall into the surgery room, of course, crying. I was still aware when they asked me to move over onto the actual operating table with my doctor looking at me as I was hysterically crying telling him that I didn't want to know what was going on right now...and getting in one more comment about please doing his best to take them out with a camera and not ruining my tattoo. Haha. I enjoy my slight doctor pep-talks.
Here I am after being stabbed to death...crying...
I might have been crying even more because they told me that they were running a little behind and that I probably wouldn't be going into surgery until 10:30am. I never understand this. I was asked to be at the hospital at 7am. One would think that I would be the first or second surgery. Apparently not! The thing is, if you're going to make me wait there, KNOWING I have major anxiety, then do what I tell you to do and give me as much sedatives as you can so that I'm at least relaxed and not wanting to claw my way up the walls. They should try to make you feel as comfortable, both mentally and physically, as possible. Whatever.
I remember one of the nurses saying my name and telling me to wake up, that surgery was over. I opened my eyes and asked, "Did they get them out with the camera?" She said yes. I was ecstatic. I know that I wasn't in as much pain waking up this time around and I wasn't propped on my side like the last time. My dad took this picture when my parents were allowed to come in. I don't think I look half bad for being cut open...then again I'm probably glowing with my good news...
Obviously this was the most important thing. I knew my recovery wouldn't be complete Hell and torture and that I wouldn't be in the hospital as long. I wound up only staying over one night and both my (male) nurses were great and extremely helpful. They actually kept telling me I should be out by early afternoon on 1/4 so when I was told that I was scheduled for a follow up chest xray at 3pm I was pissed. I kept trying to remind myself to be thankful of what transpired but I just wanted to go home at that point. Lucky for me, they removed my catheter in the morning on Wednesday, my chest tube in the early afternoon and finally my epidural in the early evening...so I didn't have to sit there with tubes coming out everywhere. I was getting a little nervous though because I couldn't pee for the longest time!
Once they remove your catheter, they put a "hat" - this thing that fits inside the toilet so they can monitor your peeing to make sure you're actually going - inside the toilet. My mom stayed over with me and I kept trying to go but nothing was coming out. I actually told her to go in there for me because I was scared they were going to try to put the damn catheter back in! Good luck with that, nurses. You'd never get that thing back in there.
Other then taking forever to pee, I was numb again - except not only was I numb on my right side, I was numb (AGAIN) on my left side. Umm...why? That was the first thing I asked my doctor when he came to visit me on Wednesday morning. I mean, my left side is still numb from the last surgery but this was as if I got surgery on that side once again. Basically, the entire "trunk" of my body was numb. My sides, my boobs, under my arms, my back and down to my belly. Lucky for me, the numbness on the left side lessened a bit as the day went on and it's back to being the regular sort-of-numb that it's remained since June. My doctor was unable to explain why my left side was numb, by the way. Cool. Glad there is no reason for this.
The meds they used for the epidural were different this time around...and I wound up having a weird reaction to them. As I'm sure anyone that's ever received an epidural knows, you get this pump that you can press every so often to control your own meds. For me, once again, the epidural did nothing to help with the pain - it's just an annoyance. But they always tell you it's helping even if you don't think it is, so I do what they tell me and press the button. Well - I wish I got a picture of my face. As soon as I started using the epidural, my face turned legit tomato red and was itching me like crazy. Only my face. What the fuck. I looked like I had fallen asleep in the sun with baby oil on my face. It was SO red.
I knew the epidural was causing this weird reaction on my face - and it was also causing me to be crazy nauseous. They let you have liquids as your first "meal" in order to see if you can keep anything down due to all the meds and whatnot. Welp, I violently puked up all the ices and jello and whatever else I consumed the morning following my surgery. I didn't tell my nurse because I didn't want them to freak out. I knew it was just the meds that weren't agreeing with me. I was still pumping the epidural since my shoulder was killing me and the same medication they gave me during the last lung surgery to relieve some of the pressure could only be administered every 6 freakin' hours. So, when lunch time rolled around and I had some actual food...I knew that was going to come up too. And my friends, it did. Gross.
I decided that perhaps I should stop using the epidural after that. I probably stopped pumping it around 11am. I could've stood on the side of the street and used my face in place of a stop sign it was so red and coupled with the puking...enough was enough. After a few hours the redness started to go down a little and I wasn't feeling as sick. Again - I didn't tell my nurse. Whoops...
Hey! You gotta do what you gotta do to get the hell out of there! I guess you can see my Rudolph nose a little in this picture. This was before my liquid breakfast:
After they took out the catheter, I had my mom take some pictures of my war wounds. The three incisions that were made are actually a lot bigger then I thought they would be. I guess I was assuming they would be like my last laparoscopic surgery on my pelvis...boy, was I wrong. The four little ones on my stomach are so tiny in comparison to these.
The pictures below show the incisions but my body is also cluttered with other markings - I guess my doctor mapped out what he might have had to do should the laparoscopic surgery not have been an option. If those markings are any indication of what could've been...then HALLELUJAH I wound up with the first option.
The first incision point is under my armpit basically, the second is on my back where my lung is and the third is through my tattoo. As you can see, they're not super small (granted, they're nowhere near what my other one was though).
While I was in the hospital, my chest tube was all bandaged up and I didn't know what damage had been done to my tattoo. I was SUPER nervous about this. When the nurse took out my chest tube on Wednesday she said that it looked as good as it could be...but I didn't see it until today when I took off the bandages to try to take a shower (which I still couldn't since the incision is still oozing...gross). It really is as good as it could be and I'm SO happy about it! My doctor stayed right in the lines, haha. It's a thick incision but it's small - and will heal right along with the lines of my tattoo. I'm so relieved. It's a great feeling to know that something that will be on your body forever wasn't ruined during an unwanted surgery.
Anyway, my follow up xray's were of course, late. I didn't get them done until around 4pm on Wednesday so my mom and I just decided to stay a little while longer, have some dinner and then leave to avoid rush hour traffic back home. I wound up arriving home around 8pm on the 4th and I was never happier to be in my own house. This surgery definitely ran a lot smoother then the last one but it's still stressful and upsetting.
With that being said, I'll touch upon some of the lovely side effects that only I would wind up with. First of all, my red face finally returned to it's normal color...but for the last three days it has been PEELING non-stop. Like seriously, it looks and feels as though I decided to get myself a chemical peel. Are you freaking kidding me?! Layer upon layer upon layer of my skin has peeled off! I don't even know how to say it without laughing about it because it's just total ridiculous.
I have been lathering my skin with lotion and straight Vaseline and it is still peeling. I just don't get it! What the hell is this from? Is it from the epidural? My mom suggested that maybe it was from the anesthesia - like, the mask they put over your mouth. Ok, well if that's true then why is my ENTIRE face peeling? This is something I plan on asking my doctor during my follow up visit on 1/18.
Another weird side effect I have...I don't even know how to explain. I discovered this last night as I was rubbing my shoulder up to my neck since it's still killing me. Even as I try to explain the feeling of this I think to myself that I must be completely out of my mind, but there is no other way. Basically, right below my hair line behind my ear on the right side of my neck, feels and sounds as though there is a small layer of...plastic? Under my skin.
It crinkles.
I'm laughing typing this. I don't know what the fuck to say other then I muted my TV last night, put my neck close to my dad's ear and told him to listen. When I press into my skin under my hair line it legit crinkles as though you're touching a piece of some flimsy plastic, ha! It also feels like it...under my skin. It's SO weird! It was really freaking me out last night. All I kept thinking was that perhaps some of my spinal fluid like, leaked out into my neck and was fermenting in there or something.
Clearly, I'm not a doctor. I decided to wait until trying to explain this to my doctor or one of his Fellows at Sloan...if for nothing else then saving myself from looking like a lunatic. It has gotten a little better throughout the day today and doesn't feel as weird as it did last night. But seriously - what the fuck.
Other then the chemical peel I didn't order for myself and the plastic that was inserted under my skin during surgery, the other things are pretty normal. My skin is starting to feel tight and hurts. I can barely lift my right arm without the assistance of the other one. My breathing is a little labored and I can feel a little gurgling in there. But these are all normal healing processes that I'm just going to have to deal with.
Overall, I couldn't be happier with how things turned out. My paperwork states that I can't drive for 4 weeks but I guess I'll see how I'm feeling in two weeks when I go for my follow up visit. I'm hoping to be able to take a shower tomorrow which always makes you feel like more of a human. I've been using these hospital bath wipes in place of real soap and water which isn't the best feeling in the world...and my dad helped me wash my hair today. So, little by little I'm starting to feel more normal although I'm sure I'm going to be in pain for a while. But that's fine. It won't be anything like it was the last time and for that, I'm super thankful.
Because my mother and I were so exhausted when my doctor came to see me, we didn't ask how much of my lung he actually removed. We also didn't ask if the pathology reports were back yet. I'm sure on the 18th I'll obtain this information but I will be curious to see if both masses turned out to be Leiomyosarcoma and how much of my lung I still have left.
I'll update more as my recovery goes on.
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