Bye Bye Little Gallbladder!

Well, I am now sans a gallbladder. It has been 48 hours, and I kinda miss the little guy. Or well, rather, his escape left me in a lot of pain, and I kinda wish he had never been removed. Now, I know in the long run this will be worth it. But the current state of affairs makes this less than satisfying. Anyway, I am mostly sane now, so here is the story:

I left my house at 8:30 on Thursday morning. Wednesday night I ate some low fat lasagna and then some frozen yogurt. That was my gallbladder's last meal. Frozen Yogurt. And man was it good! So, Susie picked me up on Thursday morning and transferred me to work (in my pajamas, no less) so that Jessica could do the drop off at the hospital that morning. After being dropped off my valet, I headed into Day Surgery, where they were super ready for me...they got me into a gown, took my vitals, and then left me there to read until about 11:45. My first nurse was Lucy, who said she would be there all day, but then I never saw again. Real nice, Lucy, real nice. Oh, I feel like i should mention, and most of you know this, I am horrible with names, but for some reason, in hospitals, make a point of trying to remember names. I think this comes from the idea that if I suddenly needed something, I could yell a specific name and get service a lot faster than normal. Yea, I know. I am a little off. Anyway, so Luzy sent me off with Charles, who pushed me in my gurney down the halls and into the elevator the second floor. This is a but surreal, since you can see yourself decked out in a gown, on a gurney, in all the reflective cameras and mirrors on the ceiling.

Once in the holding room, Charles left me in the hands of Darren, who asked me how I was doing. When I told him this was better than work, he told me I was crazy. But I think he liked me, since I was the only one in there a)under the age of 70 and b) even slightly coherent. Beau (the hot anesthesiologist (came in and gave me some sort of cocktail into my IV (oh yea, some guy whose name I dont remember hooked me up a nice IV into the top of my left hand, which I am not a fan of...why not just in the elbow crease??). A new nurse, Kitty, told me she would be with me throughout the procedure. And Dr. Yo came in to tell me not to lift anything for 2 weeks, and then told me he would see me in a few. And he did. They rolled me right into the OR, had me move over to the operating table, and then masked me. One deep breath later and I remember NOTHING.

So, apparently I was out for about an hour and a half. Around 1:45 I half gained consciousness, enough to be aware of several things:
1) The nurse next to me was Kitty, from earlier. Score for her still being there. She was asking me where my pain was on a scale of 1-10. I told her 2. I mean, c'mon people, the only thing that hurt was my throat from having a tube in it. Everything else was apparently still very numb.
2) I had an oxygen mask on. After many weeks of CPAP practice, this was not a problem at all for me. Except my nose itched.
3) The woman two beds over was screaming in pain and they just kept telling her to relax. I could not, for the life of me, understand how she could be in pain. I mean, after all, I was numb, and everything felt great.
4) I felt a bit nauseous. But, apparently, I did not communicate this.

Soon I was being wheeled downstairs. I don't remember that trip at all, so not sure if Charles came back or not; the next thing I remember was telling them which "room" to put me in (15, for the record). The wheeled me in and I asked for my cell phone and promptly fell asleep. At some point in the next hour, I somehow texted out some mass texts about how I was done with surgery. Sorry to those of you who might have not gotten this, or may have gotten it multiple times. What can I say? The drugs were good. They told me I had to pee before they would release me. Ha! Not a problem. So, apparently I told them I was ready to go to the bathroom. And so they walked (barefoot, which I still cringe about) to the bathroom, and I promptly fell asleep. And they woke me up and told me not to close my eyes. Which I did. I just thought it was the norm, but I imagine from an outsiders perspective, this was pretty funny (less funny for the nurses dealing with me). Back on the bed, I started to feel really nauseous. So, they handed me a blue sickness bag and ordered some Zofran. I thought I just had to burp a lot, so the bag seemed useless at the time. A few nice burps later (all the babies in the my life have nothing on Aunt Debs post surgery!), I felt a bit better (uh, the Zofram might have helped too). Becky arrived about that time, and all of a sudden there was a new nurse, taking out my IV. My stay was over? I was not ok with this, seeing as I was just getting comfy for a nice nap...during the whole burping/sickness timeframe, they hooked up some hose to a whole in my gown and it was like a personal air conditioner unit. I was in for the night! Becky was a little surprised too, but they got me, dressed, unhooked, and on my way. The trip in the wheelchair to the parking lot might have been my first hint I wasn't really ready to be moving too fast. Luckily I had packed the little blue bag with me. Unluckily for Becky, I didn't use it until about 2 blocks from the hospital. Luckily for both of us, I didn't use it a whole lot, and even more luckily, Jessica (my friend who does not do bodily fluids, despite twin 7 month old babies) was not with us. Becky was a champ and pulled over until I could breath through the situation, and then got me home asap, where I then proceeded to get rid of anything that was left in my kitchen garbage can. And let me tell you, puking over a garbage can sucks in the best of situations. It sucks a whole lot more when you have stitches in the inside of your torso and can't really move. Suck. Sucks. Sucks.

I vaguely remember Becky asking me if I wanted to lay on the couch or bed. All I wanted was to be flat, so bed it was. And once I laid down, i felt so much better. She brought me water, saltines, and some pumpkin bread. I tried a saltine, which was a good idea until I realized I was dehydrated and the saltine wasn't going down my raw throat very smoothly. I switched to water and a bit of bread, and we hung out waiting for the pharmacy to fill my pain pill prescription. And apparently i told Becky some stories. I remember one such story, probably not be repeated here, and I am sure she was thinking: "Really Debs? Really?" Yea, I'm that friend. Anyway, eventually Becky went back to fill the prescription and I passed out. I remember very little of Thursday night, so those of you I spoke to, I hope it wasn't too weird. About as much can be said for most of Friday.

I did have a great flow of support over the last few days, and for that I am so thankful. Sara brought lunch on Friday, Patricia brought dinner, then Becky came by this morning with red gatorade and baby Liam for a little visit. Veronica brought the kids and some banana bread, and I have had countless other offers for meals, drinks, ice cream, etc. And phone calls from across the country and world to check in (sorry most of you didn't get a pick up, I have been a little drugged and phone has been mostly on silent). Makes a girl feel loved.

I am doing better today, walking a lot more, and it is getting easier to get in and out of bed (the first day was much like a turtle getting off her back without using any muscles on her right side). I am eating pretty normally, although it is a lot of banana bread and soup, out of mostly fear to eat anything high in fat that might have less than fun affects on me. I have noticed I am a little nauseous if I push it too much, but I think this might have to do more with coming off the Vicodin than anything else. While I love the effects of the meds, giving me the perfect drowsiness to just pass out, I am not a fan of the lasting drowsiness and the cloudy feeling. So, I switched to Tylenol this morning and seem to be doing good so far.

I'm back!

I feel like I should knock on something before I say this again, but I AM BACK. I am feeling like myself, finally, for the first time in over six months. Or well, I should qualify that: I am feeling like my new old self. I am feeling good, great even. I have energy, I have a clear head, and I have motivation to do more than the bare minimum. This means a few things:

1) I am back at the gym, lifting weights and going crazy times on the elliptical, because in my true competitive style, I am always racing the guy next to me to see who can outlast who, only he doesnt know it, so I always win.

2) I am sleeping somewhat normal hours and not waking up stressed at 3am about dumb things (ie, how the busses are getting from LAX to JPL six months from now).

3) I do things after work. Like real things. Today I worked out and then hung out with the minis and their parents and ate bean soup that Jessica cooked (pick yourselves up, Jessica has been known to cook. Once.) Brylee is an expert Sweet potato puree eater, and plays the game well, opening her mouth and being generally cute while eating. Yesterday I didn't get home until 10:45pm. This has been unheard of, even on the weekends, in months.

4) I don't want to crawl under my desk and nap at 10am. Just at 2pm. And that is normal. Always has been. I get through it with a soda run, an ice cream run, or a visit to someone's desk with candy. Being that Halloween is this month, the candy visits are easy right now!

5) I am sending birthday cards again. This might not sound like a big deal, but man, I used to be so good at birthday cards. And then February and March happened. Don't get me wrong, I buy them. And sometimes I even write them. But sending them, and gifts, has all but ceased since the beginning of the year. My dad got a gift, mainly because I could order it online and ship it directly to him. I dropped the ball majorly on all my friends who turned 30. BUT, I am back, and hoping to make up for lost time with some great Christmas gifts. Or, at the very least, a nice card.

6) My house is clean. Now, not immaculate Katie Hutchings clean (please, let's not pretend). But like, live-able clean. The carpets have been vacuumed, the kitchen swept, the bathroom bleached, even the palm trees trimmed (but not the bamboo...cuz that's a project in itself). The cats even have had flea medicine within a month. Dude, I am on it.

7) I am drinking water more. And less caffeine. Towards the end there, I was drinking Coffee followed by Diet Coke followed by more Diet Coke. And barely any water. And I knew it was bad, but the caffeine was all that got me through.

So, I am excited to be back. And to have my life back. Well, mostly. For those of you keeping track, the surgeries start next week. That's right, they are putting holes in me. Several of them in fact. First up, the gallbladder. Yea, this one should be the most minor of the surgeries. Out patient procedure, yadda, yadda, yadda. This just means I can totally get Jessica to pick me up because she thinks it is funny to pick me up after I have been drugged because it seems I am rather funny. So, next Thursday, around noon, I arrive at Clear Lake Hospital (I am now very familiar with this place) so that Dr. Yo (yup, I'm not making it up, that's his actual name) can puncture me 4 times and take out my gallbladder. Mom and grandma have both had theirs out, so I blame them for this, obviously. Then I get a day off on Friday to recover, and a good excuse to not lift anything heavy for the next two weeks (this only sucks because all the babies will just make eyes at me, and I will want to pick them up, and won't be able to. They better learn to walk real fast!)

After the gallbladder, and yet to be scheduled, will be the tonsils. Less exciting, since I imagine this will actually suck once I wake up and have the worst sore throat in my entire life for two weeks. And after the tonsils there is always the possibility that Henry will be coming out, but I am not convinced. Either way, if Henry is coming out, I am requiring that these cuttings all happen during 2011. See, first of all, 2011 has sucked. And 2012 will not suck. So, they all need to happen this year. And second, and possibly more importantly, I am about to hit my out of pocket max for my insurance, and then everything will be free. So, you better believe I will taking care of EVERYTHING this year so I dont have to pay for it next year. Bring it on, Clear Lake Medical Area! And even more so, bring it on, life!

Tourguiding

I recently got into a rather heated conversation with someone who was once a college tourguide. Now, I was a college tourguide at Cal. It was, I believe, the single greatest thing I did at school. I mean, sure I discovered supernovae while in college, but tourguiding...tourguiding was where I learned about life. And where I made the best. friends. in. the. entire. world. I am still in close contact with many of the people i tourguided with. I have been in tourguide weddings. And when I think back to college, it is the days in the visitor center office that I think of with the largest smile. Now, it might not be this way at other universities, but at Cal, the tourguides were like a family. We were all a little crazy about our Cal facts, and we loved each other for it. We were the only ones that would don incredibly unbreathable windbreakers at 10am on a Saturday to walk around in the rain with a bunch of cranky 17 year olds and their over zealous parents. We all knew how to work backwards (I was successful at this even in flip flops), we could recite the history of any building on campus in a heartbeat (I bet most of us still can), and we all had our own bad jokes we used everyday. We had all stopped on the hidden floors in the campus tower, the Campanile, to see the dinosaur bones stored there. Most of us knew how to sneak into the campus library even if our group was more than 10 large. We loved what we did.

What I remember more than work though, was the after work parties and hangouts. We used to have the best time! Blue and Gold jello shots by the casserole dish. Raleighs "staff meetings" where everyone had their own pitcher, and the waiter (always hot) always got a HUGE tip for putting up with us. We wrote new lyrics to the Cal Drinking Song which we would then sing at the top of our lungs throughout the bar. The 16 hour days on Cal Day that would lead to exhaustion drinking (oh Cal Day). The A's games. The trips down to the Stanfurd farm to take tours of their campus and ask every obnoxious question in the book. Football game tail gates, frat parties with the tourguide frat boys, bonfire parties, and BBQs on my back deck until 2am. It was a damn good time. And to this day, my tourguide friends and I laugh and laugh about some of those nights.

Anyway, so this friend of mine. He was a tourguide at University of Texas at Austin. So, our debate started off about the number of Nobel Prizes each school holds, stemming from the recent Berkeley win in Physics (woohoo!). He claimed UT has the most ever. He is wrong. I'm not saying it's Berkeley. but I know it isn't UT. That's right, I looked it up. I threw back with the fact that our library is clearly bigger than UTs. He then says their campus populations was larger (fine, it is). Cal was founded earlier. UT was ranked higher (uh, clearly not true, and I did not let him win that one, don't worry). Anyway, it was a fun argument, and we paused it when we both ran out of facts (I might have been using 2003 facts for a little while, which may or may not still be 100% true). It made me miss it though. I loved that school, I loved that time in my life, and while I love my life now, there is something so special about being part of such an awesome community, and within that community, having such a great group of friends. On tours, people would always ask me why I picked Berkeley. I was always honest, it came down to money and my visit to the campus. But, I would always look them straight in the eye and say "I made the decision to come here, and I have never looked back. It was the best decision I have ever made, and I do not have a single regret." And I still dont. So, here's to my great tourguiding years from college, and the friends who I made who during those years who are still putting up with me. Oh, and of course, Go Bears!

Six months

Today was a hard day. Six months ago, while I was at work early in the morning for a CAS program, Jessica walked in to the Gilruth with puffy swollen eyes and, while holding back tears, told me that our friend Suzy had passed away. I still can't go back into that room without thinking about that morning. We went that morning to see the Cejka babies, who were exactly a month old in the NICU. I held one of those baby girls and just thought about life and how fragile it is. The days that followed were full of tears, and a lot of friends leaning on each other for an amazing amount of support. Her funeral was packed to the point where the overflow room was full. For weeks after she died, I would forget she was gone. My phone would ring and her name would come up on the screen. It was her daughter playing with the cell phone, but it still would get me every time. In June I cleaned out my desk at work and found a note from Suzy she had tucked in the drawer the summer before. That note is still there. At the time it made me sad, but now it makes me smile. It reminds me how much Suzy loved life, and how much we should all love life. Suzy's little boy is six months old now. Her little girl will be three next month. Both of her kids are just like her. They love the simple things in life. They giggle at everything, and they let things roll right off their shoulders.

I think the last six months have probably been the hardest six months of my entire life. I have struggled with health issues and the frustrations of fatigue. I have gone from loving my job to job searching. I have struggled with relationships and finding my place in a world that has been turned upside down. And I lost a great friend. Seems to me that is a lot for six months. I have thought a lot about Suzy today. She was always so kick back, she never let anything get to her. She found the best in everything and was ALWAYS smiling. She would want us all to be happy, and not let the memory of her upset us. Don't get me wrong, I still have my moments, I think we all do. Sometimes life just seems unfair. But, in the end, her spirit is still very much alive and with all of us. And after six of the hardest months of my life, I can only learn from her, learn from her death, and keep her memory alive. And, of course, see life as she did: One big adventure.

Sunroof weather!

Fall has officially arrived in Houston. Now, for most of the country, fall would mean leaves changing colors or bringing out the long pants and sweaters. Here, it just means being outside is actually enjoyable. The nights are beautiful, minus the mosquitos, and I have been trying to spend as much time as possible outside soaking it all in before fall gives way to either a)winter, or rather, stone cold humidity that goes straight through to your bones and makes you want to wear every layer in your closet, because even though it is only 40 degrees outside, the wind and humidity makes it feel like the South Pole, OR b)the 18th return of summer and record 100+ degree temperatures with the weather men screeching about global warming. Yea, Houston is kinda dramatic.

I have been driving around with my sunroof open, wind blowing through my hair, blasting whatever is in my CD player (yea, that was me driving down 96 earlier with Madonna's Immaculate Collection blaring, don't judge). It puts me in the best mood. Like, I even look forward to getting up in the morning because I can get outside and enjoy it before it is gone. Last night we took a trip to the park and walked around the water, which seemed like a good idea until the mosquitos remembered how much they like my legs. I have been sitting on my deck enjoying the evenings after work, and watching Mollie and Tony go crazy outdoors. They love this weather too, and look at me like I am nuts when I call them to come inside.

I guess I should say, I have also, finally (and man I hope I am no jinxing myself) getting good sleep, and feel pretty much normal again. I am still tired at the end of the day, but nothing, and I mean, NOTHING, compared to how I have been feeling. After six months of getting crappy sleep and having no energy to deal with anything other than the most necessary of life issues, it is nice to have some of my sanity back. To be able to put energy into thinking about things instead of just going with the easiest solution. To be able to slowly make plans to go and do things other than just the bare minimum. To be able to go into a crowded restaurant and not get super stressed. See, weird things were hard for me. This mask might be a pain in the butt, but it is worth it to have my life back.

I guess maybe I should qualify that statement. See, I got my life back, but now, the next saga begins: I get to have my tonsils out. Wooohooo? Well, I am kinda excited about it. Not about the actual procedure, but about less sore throats, less sinus issues, and an easier time sleeping with the mask (because less stuff in my throat means the air pressure on the mask can come down). So, while the recovery is gonna such from this surgery (2 weeks minimum I am told), I think the results will be worth it. Plus, my mother says she is coming with her knitting needles, and Jessica is willing to lend her (new and unopened) sewing machine so mom can make curtains for everyone. So, projects in hand, she can make me smoothies and hot (English) tea, and sew, and we can watch hours and hours of TV, and I will whine about the pain and then she can drug me. Fun for everyone. I guess this is what I get for being jealous of all the pregnant girls and their bedrest.

I also go back to the Cardiologist next month to check on Henry. If he is getting bigger, he gets to come out too. I am kind of wondering if I can get a two for one on these surgeries? Seems like there should be a Groupon or something...