Disclaimer: It’s been a bit nutty these past few weeks, both at home and work. I haven’t had the energy to finish these posts, but I do now, three full weeks after surgery. But again, these posts are mostly to help me remember my full adventure in trying to have a baby. In other news, my sister and brother in law’s first baby has arrived! I cannot wait to meet my new nephew and eat up his little feets. More on that later.
Moving on with the story of me not being able to just let my body heal. Edder would walk away to say… take a shower, or grab a snack. Every time he left me alone in a room when I wasn’t sleeping he would have to double check that I wasn’t going to get up and re-roof the house, or paint an entire room. Silly Edder. I wasn’t going to paint the WHOLE room… maybe just like…. 3/4. And just half the roof. I mean, why waste valuable sick time off on letting my body heal?! Crazy talk. Um. No.
Little did I know that this was all going to backfire and my desire to move about and do stuff was going to make me miserable.
After the whole, “I got up and cleaned the house 24 hours after having my uterus cut up” debacle, things got ugly for about 12 hours. I mentioned I got into the fetal position to make my stomach feel better. Which worked for the surgical gasses, but thanks to all my movement, I was making my uterine balloon tubes get wonky. Things were NOT feeling normal. It felt like someone had taken a dagger to the innards of my girl part. And it was showing, things were getting… swollen. Big time. Not okay. It was excruciating to move or walk. I begged for more lortab, I cried and I tried to sleep. Around 7a Saturday morning I woke up to the still horrifying pain, and more swelling. And this is the point I started freaking out.
I was convinced I was getting an infection (despite being on high powered antibiotics) and that my vagina was just going to get ruined and they would have to cut it off. Yes. I used those words to Ed. “My vagina is going to be ruined and it will need to be cut off.” Thank goodness he wasn’t on lortab or in raging pain… and you know… he’s the most level headed person I know. He called the Dr. as I frantically texted my sister who is a PA and my mom who was a nurse and a friend who is a CRNA. They came to the same conclusion, that I had an edema, but it was time to wait and see what the Dr. said. I was ready to bolt to the ER. Ed made me wait.
After talking to the Dr. he came to the same conclusion, I likely had an edema and that it should subside and I would have to wait it out. No fun! I was bedridden. Then around 10a I got up to go to the bathroom and this is where I really lost it. There was some bizarre blood coming out of me annnnnnd things started coming out of my body. I started screaming for Ed who is a saint and came to inspect everything. He told me tubes (the catheter end of my uterine balloon) were coming out, which I could kind of see. I cried. Again. But the pain was gone.
We called the Dr. Again. It wasn’t an edema at all. I jacked up my catheter when I was so active the day before, which made the catheter move into an odd position causing said pain and swelling. All because I was a bad patient! Kind of served me right. But it was all okay, it was okay that the tubes were outside my body. I still wasn’t convinced, but I am not the pro on these things. It was bizarre. And scary. I was feeling quite a bit of trauma. Mostly because we weren’t prepared for the tubes to make an exit and had no idea what to do. After the third call to the Dr. under complete duress on my part, I felt re-assured enough to leave things be. But it wasn’t easy.
To state the obvious, that was Saturday, and from that point on until Tuesday morning all I did was shower, sleep and eat. And watch all seasons of Parks and Recreation on Netflix. I just wasn’t ready to go back to work on Monday, I was so exhausted, so completely exhausted. And I still hurt. And still felt wimpy and it made me mad but what could I do? But, I’ve been coming into work since Tuesday and while it’s nice to get out, I’m still exhausted.
There is nothing easy about having tubes coming out of your vagina. That’s just a pure honest to goodness fact. It is creepy. And difficult. It oooogs me out to go to the bathroom. Or stand up/sit down. Or shower. Or walk. I can feel it constantly, laying down, sitting, regardless. It’s there. All. The. Time.
Sometimes it makes me want to cry. I think I’m going to get PTSD from these ridiculous uterine balloon tubes! Not to mention knowing there is a saline filled balloon in my uterus holding it open? Just plain freaks me out. THIS IS NOT NORMAL! Looking four months pregnant but knowing it’s just because I have a foreign object in my uterus, not a baby is trippy. And it is taking a toll. I am aware of this thing constantly, I can feel it at all times.
I exaggerate a lot and yes I am dramatic, but with this I’m telling pure truth. So I’m not going to try and pretend to be tough about this. Pretend this is a breeze and I’m handling it like a champ. Because I’m not. It sucks. It freaks me out and I want these %$#*&@@!* tubes/balloon out of me. NOW. I cannot describe how awful it is having this thing in me.
I feel very puny and wimpy right now. I haven’t recovered as quickly as I thought I would, or wanted to. Aside from the tubes, just walking around my office makes me exhausted and makes my belly hurt. But I keep reminding myself I don’t want to go through this again. I need to heal properly the first time. Admit I’m exhausted, I hurt, I want to cry, that this is uncomfortable and hard. That I just need to rest and recover… to amp up for the most important task of my cuterus uterus’ life. Growing a baby!
In the end. Edder was right. I was wrong. I needed and still need to take it very easy and rest. This surgery was hard. Standard in the infertility world? Sure. But it was harder than I thought it would be. I was emotionally prepared to wake up from the surgery hearing the worst news I could hear. I was preparing myself for that so much that I totally overlooked the healing part and assumed that would be a breeze. Lesson learned. Yet again.
That sums up the week after my surgery. Part 3 on the plan and full recovery coming next. Yeah…. I’m annoying that way. A three-part post on my surgery and vagina. You’re welcome.