Not a hungry, hungry hippo

More like a deeply hurting, hurting hippo.  But a hippo, all the same.

I never had any idea that a person could be in this much pain consistently and still be conscious. I am on day 6 post-op and the layers of pain go deeply and transition from rolling pain and sharp, stabbing pain. Not really sure which is better. The rolling/roiling isn't as rough, but lasts so much longer. The sharp stabs are Jack the Ripper style and all I can say is GAH!

And I really cannot bring myself to eat much and I know by my measured output that I am drinking far too little and that is not good, but one thing I've worked so hard on for several years is only eating when I am hungry. Because for so many years food was forced on me when I was sick and now I find it revolting to have food in my face when I'm in pain. And a week or two of minimal calories won't be the end of me.

On top of the deep pain, there is the revulsion of self I see when I look in the mirror. I am 21 lbs heavier than I was pre-op. My midsection is gigantic.  I know, consciously, it is fluid retention, but that still does not change that I own exactly one dress, that is actually a swimsuit cover up, and four sets of pajamas that I can fit into right now.  It does little to reduce my depression of going so far back when I worked so hard to get here. And how hard will I have to work to get back where I was and when will I be able to start working towards that again...months and months from now?  I am so swollen and huge in the mid section and really feel like a gigantic hippo. I am so uncomfortable in my body right now and that, combined with the pain, make me feel just so very, very UGH. 

Coming home with a Foley catheter and having to deal with all that goes with that is a headache, just a simple roll over  or adjusting myself in bed is difficult. And I can't tell if the doctors are aware of what a headache it is or oblivious or what, because it was evident both surgeons thought it was just fine and dandy to send me home with a catheter and that if all I'm doing is laying in bed, it should not be an issue. Except that when you are in pain, you can't really just lay there. You fidget in bed. I feel like a trout that has been reeled in and left to flop on the sandy edge of the creek, hook isn't in my gills though, a little further south and much more painful. On top of that, everything I read says the longer you have a catheter, the harder it is to get your bladder to act on it's own once the catheter is gone. And the 2 hours round trip to visit the doctor will be exceptionally difficult, just 10 minutes in the car was sheer agony on the ride home Friday and the next 50 were no better.

I'm not one to have a pity party, I pretty much get up and roll with life, but I must admit that I'm right on the edge of throwing one for myself. I want to cry more than laugh. I want to just be able to walk down the hall and get myself a fresh glass of tea without incident. I would like to use the toilet instead of having a bag emptied. I want to lay down to sleep and not wake up in so much pain and deeply disoriented three hours later.  At one point this morning I awoke but could not figure out where I was and after much difficulty of sitting up and determining that I was in my home, I then had to get myself into a quasi-comfortable position and back to sleep since I was over two hours away from being able to take prescriptions again. 

This is going to be a rough and bumpy ride, I can tell that going to be the truth without a doubt. More to come, but I am also hopeful that there will become smoother sections on road along the way, too. The day I can get up and walk around the block will be tremendous for me. The day I'm allowed to jog even the slightest bit will be especially wonderful. I cannot wait for those days to arrive!

Health 'care' for women...I'm beginning to wonder how much care is there!

About a dozen years ago I was experiencing some gynecological issues. I was overweight at the time. I was clinically obese, but always self-identified as simply ‘overweight’ which was still true and didn’t seem as ‘actual’ as obese. Obese somehow conjured visions of 600+ lb people and I was half of that, but could not see how deeply into that description I fit. 

The doctor that I went to, a highly recommended OB/GYN, told me that the majority of my troubles would go away if I ‘simply lost 30 lbs’ and I felt shamed into seeing my issues as a result of my being overweight and so I did not pursue with another doctor or push back on that being an unacceptable answer. 

Fast forward a decade, I was 172 lbs lighter and the most fit I’d ever been in my life and still experiencing most of the same symptoms, some much more so and because I started running, some of them were becoming more and more problematic. I sought the advice of my new OB/GYN, also highly recommended, who this time told me I was simply old and without using the words said to suck it up, buttercup. And I didn’t like that answer, returned a few months later and had another exam and was told the same thing. I just felt like it was a moot point and found ways to live with it and presumed it was just my lot in life.

Then I wanted to have some cosmetic surgery and met with three surgeons. Told all of them of the same symptoms when they went through my medical history and two of them just nodded along and one said that was not acceptable. Encouraged me to pursue again with a specialist and wanted a clear report before he’d do my surgery. I was fortunate to find a urogynecologist who was again, recommended, and while I felt like I had to jump through all manner of hoops to actually be seen—I do believe an audience with the Pope is easier—I did make it in about 6 weeks later. 

That visit was the first of many which put me on a very different path than I had expected.

I learned that so many things I had happily celebrated over the past 25+ years were really cause for concern. I have stories of previous surgeries that I always tell with great pride, glee even. Up walking, pain free, without a single stitch or tear less than 10 minutes after delivering the biggest baby born at the hospital that year.  Back at work after 4 days on one shoulder surgery, 5 days after the other. Full release from PT in half the time expected.

Those were all examples of my connective tissue being extremely lax and not having the tone it should have and are a key reason I am about to undergo five surgeries next week and a very strong possibility of a sixth once the healing is well underway of the first round.  

The sad truth is that I was not given good medical care because of my weight. I did not press the issue because of shame that was attached to that weight. Being looked in the face and being told that it was an issue of my own making due to being ‘grossly’ overweight took away all my power. That was actually the last GYN visit I had for a decade. I didn’t want to be shamed further and knew my problems were not going to be corrected until I was down that magical 30 lbs. Then when I lost the weight and then some and reached an ideal body weight, I was told I was simply old—advanced age was how it was put—and again, not given quality care. My slim self felt more empowered to press for a better answer, but even that second visit didn’t result in anything but an uncovered visit through my high deductible HSA plan and a nice 300$ plus expense for me. 

Having a doctor from another discipline require clearance to move forward was an incredible game changer for me. Pressing for an answer to get the surgery I did want led me to a group of surgeries I wouldn’t wish for anyone…and yet I am still so happy to be having this done at long last. That these problems have persisted for so long and the answers I got were so totally unacceptable bothers me on so many levels. 

How many women are getting inadequate care every single day in the US? Why with what is supposed to be ‘great insurance’ and ‘excellent doctors’ did it take a cosmetic surgeon requesting an ‘all clear’ letter for me to get any action? What if I didn’t have a bunch of excess skin that I wanted gone? How long would I have had this go on, untreated, and worsening week to week? 

The exam I had a month ago and the exam I had recently showed marked deterioration and reinforced that surgery was the only option. Five surgeries when if this had been addressed when I first presented might have been only one or two. Five surgeries on a high deductible and out of pocket plan when before I had exceptionally good insurance and would have met my max expenditure by the extremely invasive and painful tests alone. Five surgeries with a much more difficult leave of absence situation than I had at the point of initial complaint. 

Some of this makes me so angry. Mostly though, it makes me terribly sad. Because I had someone to encourage me to be an advocate for my health and how many women do not? How many women are told they are too fat or too old and to live with something they shouldn’t have to live with? These are questions I may not even want to know the answer to as that might make me beyond angry to realize just how broken health care is for women. 

I go under the knife in less than two hours and have a very long road ahead of me, I will be documenting my progress here at key milestones.