Coming back from Aruba was an abrupt transition into reality. Mom couldn’t physically make it through the travel home and had to have medical assistance through the airports and customs. And, once we were back in Kansas City she was admitted to the hospital. When I turned my phone back on I found 15 missed calls from doctor’s offices and the 3 days following us arriving home were filled with 6 doctor’s appointments. One of those appointments I would sit down with my anesthesiologist and get a scary rundown of not only the risks but also just the facts of what would happen on surgery day.
Surgery day came 5 days after we had returned home from paradise.
The morning of surgery mom was still in the hospital, but we were still able to Facetime… from her hospital bed to mine I felt her love and presence.
The medical team overwhelmed my pre-op room and family, both blood and church, filled the hospital waiting room. After 10 years of waiting, it was finally time to get this thing done.
I always try and picture something as the anesthesia takes over, this time my peace was remembering the sunset moment in Aruba and all the feelings associated with that moment.
At some point during surgery mom was able to be discharged and join the rest of the family in the waiting room. It was a 10-hour wait for my family and the head surgeon had pre-warned that he would not give updates during surgery as he wanted to be completely focused on me. 10 hours is a long time for anything, but especially for a surgery. Not only was my body going through hell and back, but I can imagine the waiting room was filled with some anxious minds. Nevertheless, 10 hours is what it took for 3 surgeons to build bone where there was no bone, put screws and rods and cages to keep bone in place, try and revitalize smashed nerves and reconstruct a destroyed back.
Late that night I woke up with: a 6-inch scar on my belly and a 6-inch scar on my back, another central line in my neck, tubes drained blood out of my scars, a catheter drained my bladder, an oxygen cannula kept me breathing, a couple IV’s were in my arms, my PORT was accessed, heart monitors and oxygen monitors beeped with abnormalities. I was told I was now 2 inches taller, thanks to how much damage had occurred prior to surgery and what had to be repaired and restored, but I was alive and I could feel my right leg and my arms, I could even move them. (In the coming days, I would be able to feel and move my left leg more and more.)
After a long 9 days inpatient stay at the hospital, I thought the worst had come and gone.
I was transferred to a rehabilitation hospital and began to learn how to walk again and to start my recovery process.
I thought the back pain would be the worst of it all, but after 20 days with plenty of medical interventions, I still hadn’t had a bowel movement. Then, I was with my physical therapist when I started coughing up large amounts of blood. I took my first of 4 ambulance rides back to the main hospital that day.
In the coming days, I would be transferred back and forth from rehab to the main hospital as they tried to put together where the blood was coming from and why my GI system had decided to shut down.
One of the ER’s intervened and helped me have a bowel movement, but for almost 2 months it would require medical intervention to have any bowel movement as my colon was “paralyzed.” The blood we believe was coming from my lungs and after a couple of weeks of throwing up blood it would finally clot off. But, one of my ER trips if I didn’t think I was dying in those moments, I wished I was.
The pain in my stomach was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. That’s when we found out that my pancreas was inflamed, at that point in time my pancreas was producing a lipase level of 700 (normal range is 0-100).
We felt hopeful that a clear liquid diet for a couple of days would calm it down and I would be feeling completely better in a few days. I argued with the hospital not to admit me but transfer me back to rehab where I was to get released in 3 days’ time. They complied.
I was released 3 days later from rehab and at this point (late October) I had graduated to the assistance of a walker, Magnolia and the assistance of home health.
Homehealth would take over my care till the beginning of November when I would visit my primary care and he’d immediately admit me under the suspicion of sepsis.
Thankfully the hospital would find that I didn’t have sepsis, but instead severe pancreatitis with a lipase level of now 1100. My colon was still paralyzed, my stomach was inflamed, and come to find out my gallbladder was not working at all.
So, after 13 days inpatient, they decided to remove my gallbladder on November 16th, and I woke up immediately from surgery feeling like a new person.
Sunday, the following morning, I was able to come home, but Monday would find me not able to even drink water, let alone eat. I crashed hard and fast, by Friday I couldn’t respond to questions or even lift my arm.
I was readmitted Friday, November 22nd with thoughts that my autonomic system was in complete failure. I consumed less than 500 calories in 5 days, had lost 20 pounds in 3 weeks, my colon was still paralyzed, my stomach was still inflamed, my pancreas was producing a lipase level of 1500 (normal range 0-100), my bladder stopped emptying on its own, IV fluids kept me hydrated and talks of feeding tubes and ileostomy surgery remained in the conversation…
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