I was awakened at 6:45 am by my doc, Dr. Cercone. He had his physician assistant with him and the floor nurse. He told me things went very well and that he thought everything looked good. He didnt see any sign of cancer outside my prostate wall, but we had to wait for the pathologist report. He said he gave me one unit of blood. ( my anethetist gave me the other 2 ). He pulled down my covers, upped my gown and took off on the nurse. It seems a vital, no very vital, part of a catheter on a man, is the leg strap. This is an elastic velcro band which wraps around the upper thigh, my left. There is another velcro loop that holds the catheter line secure. The idea is that this keeps the line from directly pulling on a man's penis. It keeps a bit of slack in the line and reduces irritation. Hell it reduces pain. Anyway, he fixed it up, and said to the nurse that he wanted it to stay like that always. Thanks doc. I didnt know how much at the time, but I learned very quickly. Dr. Cercone told me that physical therapy would be up before noon and have me up and walking. I wasnt too excited to hear that but I know it is critical for my recovery and to keep blood clots from forming.
At about 8 oclock a lot started to happen. In my room came a nursing student from the Community College of Alleghen County. He had a pile of fresh linens and told me he would be taking care of me. I asked him which campus he was from and he told me Boyce. I am an adminitrator for CCAC so it was nice to have someone from the same team helping. Little did I know how much help. Mike covered my chair with a sheet, helped me out of bed and set me up to eat my breakfast. I was able to eat a small bit, but it was the first food since Sunday afternoon and this was Wednesday. Mike then changed my bed, brought me a basin of water, a wash cloth and towel. I washed up and he doted on me like I was his brother. His instructor, Prof. Gardner came in and when I told her who I was, she and I began to have a bit of fun. Faculty and administration in a college have an unusual relationship. Sophie was sure nice to me. She is a great lady and an even greater teacher. Her students impressed the hell out of me. Mike was aware of the doc's orders for getting me up. However, noon came and no one from physical therapy showed up. Mike got me up in my chair again and made sure I was able to eat lunch. After lunch he got me back to bed and made sure I was ok before he left for the day. Sometime that morning, the big question was whether I had had a bowel movement. I hadnt, which makes sense since I hadnt eaten in 3 days, but the medical minds couldnt figure that one out. They said that if I didnt go by noon, they would have to get me an enema. Hell, you cant get blood out of a stone.
Around 4 pm, they brought a fleets enema and put it on my tray table. Then the nurse left. Around 5 dinner showed up, and since there was no one there to help me sit up or bring my table over, I didnt eat. Peg came about 6:30. She was whipped from working all day after teaching the night before. She saw the fleets but couldnt understand why no one gave it to me. Well, the 3 to 11 nurse was sort of a beauty queen. She clearly spent her shift putting in time, but leaving most of the work for the next shift. Peg ended up giving me the enema. Glad my insurance was paying thousands for my care. Anyway, no success from the fleets, but if I could tell the bastards, it had only been 12 hours since my first meal, and not being a beagle, didnt process that quickly. I talked Peg into going home. She had brought me a pair of earplugs at my request. A hospital is the last place to go to rest. Once I put those plugs in, it was great. My roommate kept his tv on 24 hours. It was never shut off, and the crack medical team would not turn it off at night when I wanted to sleep. I kept my 12 minute vigil with the morphine until I was ready to sleep. I put in the earplugs and hooked up my bipap, and I was out. They came in and took vitals and blood during the night but I just kept sleeping. It was the end of the day after surgery, and I was just glad it was over, but my stomach still was very sore. Oh yeah, physical therapy never showed up that day. Around 9 I told my nurse that I was supposed to have been up and walking. She told me that if she were I, she would not wait for PT. Just grab that catheter bag and your IV pole and walk. Then she walked out of the room. The dumb ass didnt realize I could not get out of bed on my own. What service.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Catching up - Surgery
As promised, I will go back and fill everyone in about my surgery. I had to be at Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh at 5 am on Sept. 9. I was the first person in the Same Day Surgery unit. Took care of all the paperwork and was taken to a unit where I had to take my clothes off and put on a gown. They took my vitals and I had a really nice nurse in there. She made sure I had a gown that fit, instead of one that showed the "full moon" and constricted my shoulders since it is a universal man / woman size. No, she found me a big boy gown and I was a happy guy. Well, as happy as I could be thinking about what was coming. Shortly after they wheeled me to pre op. Peg came along until they told her that was as far as she could go, and we said our goodbyes. That is weird. You want to be optimistic and say that I will see you later, but in the back of your mind you want to add "at least I hope so".
While I was in preop, they came in and took my vitals again, and the nurse taking care of me asked " Are you......." and before she could figure out how to ask, I said, "yes. Cathy is my ex wife". My ex wife Cathy is an ICU nurse there and has been there for over 20 years.
Well, shortly after, Cathy stopped by and checked in on me. She always makes sure things are good if I am in the hospital. She gave me the lowdown on my anethesiologist, saying the doc wouldnt do anything but would make the nurse anethetist do it. Well, in pre op the doc told the NA to start the line. The NA said she wanted to give me some drug that would relax me. She was a very pretty young lady, and when she put the IV line in my hand, I didnt even feel it. Usually, it feels like someone is putting a 10 penny nail in your hand but this was painless.....maybe it was because she was so pretty I had to be a he-man. Anyway, the doc came back and the NA pulled out 2 syringes from her pocket, and just hit me with both. Very nice. I forgot to mention that I laid in there for about an hour. And wouldnt you know it, I had to pee. Well, I fugured it wouldnt be good to go into surgery with a full bladder, so I told the nurse. She handed me a bed bottle. Under the covers with about 10 people around me, I did manage to contribute substantially to the bottle. This part becomes critical. This is my last good pee.
They came in and told me my surgeon was in the building but not in surgery, so they were going to take me back. They wheeled me in and I remember very little other than it was cold in there. The pretty blonde NA had a gown and mask on, did something to my line, and that was that. All I know is that it was about 7:45 when I went in there.
I woke up in recovery being pushed around in my bed. I saw a clock and it was 10:30. First question I heard was " on a scale of one to ten, what is your pain?". Not wanting to be a hero, I said 9. Bam, a shot in the IV line. Not much help, same question shortly after, same answer and bam, another shot. I was beginning to like this. It took a few times, but I got pretty cozy. In fact, once you quit bitching, the nurses quit coming around. The chit chat in there gets to become a real pain in the ass. I dont want to hear about kids, spouses, lousy dates. Hey, I am here and you should be taking care of me. Oh well, I was just happy to be there. They told me I lost a lot of blood and they had to give me 3 units. I had only put one unit of my own in the bank, so thanks to whomever gave the other 2.....I think, at least for now. If I end up with aids or hepatitis, I will not be this happy. Anyway, a sure sign of things to come, I laid in recovery for over 4 hours. Seems they didnt have any rooms. In grad school, I spent a lot of time in a math class studying queuing theory. It seems that you wouldnt do surgery on someone if you didnt have a room for them. I knew my Dad and Sister were with Peg, and I also knew my Dad had to be exhausted and should go home. He would not leave until he saw me, so I started bitching to the nurse. She was going to see if she could bring them back and viola, a room. They took me to a room on the eigth floor of Mercy. My advice to anyone who gets sent to this floor, is to go home or jump out of a window. I will elaborate more, later.
Peg, Debbie and Dad came up shortly after I was wheeled in the room. It was somewhere around 4 by now. I told them that my belly was sore, but I was pretty comfortable. I also told them that my backside didnt hurt at all. I thought this was a bit strange since my doc told me he would be going through my perineum, or as some of you know it, my 'taint'. Dad said just to wait til tomorrow. Deb and Dad left and Peg and I had some time together. We didnt say much but we both realized how much we rely on each other and how glad we were that we still had each other. She had to teach that night, and had to leave. It was about 5 pm. Peg left and they brought me supper. Well, I couldnt sit up, and so I figured it was easier to just not eat. They put a morphine drip in my line and I could take a hit every 6 minutes, up to 6 hits an our. I did the math and figure I could have a really good 36 minutes and a really shit 24 minutes, or just take a shot every 12 minutes and be reasonably comfortable. Amazingly, I programmed myself to wake up about every 12 minutes and hit the trigger. The first night passed with the usual interruptions, taking my vitals. I was not passing any pee, and I had a catheter attached. I asked if I could have water since that is a vital part of pee, and I hadnt had any for about 18 hours. They gave me a Ringers bag along with my IV, and I began to drink water. The first contributions to my bag were very bloody. I prayed for a better output, seriously prayed. By the next day, they told me I was the "King of Pee" on the whole 8th floor. I had serious output. It annoyed the nurse aid since my bag had to be dumped during an 8 hour shift at least two times instead of leaving it for the next shift. Another sign I was in a bit of trouble. I just figured the best thing was to sleep as much as possible. I did not need to sleep at night and be awake for the day. If I had to sleep, I slept. That night, I slept.
While I was in preop, they came in and took my vitals again, and the nurse taking care of me asked " Are you......." and before she could figure out how to ask, I said, "yes. Cathy is my ex wife". My ex wife Cathy is an ICU nurse there and has been there for over 20 years.
Well, shortly after, Cathy stopped by and checked in on me. She always makes sure things are good if I am in the hospital. She gave me the lowdown on my anethesiologist, saying the doc wouldnt do anything but would make the nurse anethetist do it. Well, in pre op the doc told the NA to start the line. The NA said she wanted to give me some drug that would relax me. She was a very pretty young lady, and when she put the IV line in my hand, I didnt even feel it. Usually, it feels like someone is putting a 10 penny nail in your hand but this was painless.....maybe it was because she was so pretty I had to be a he-man. Anyway, the doc came back and the NA pulled out 2 syringes from her pocket, and just hit me with both. Very nice. I forgot to mention that I laid in there for about an hour. And wouldnt you know it, I had to pee. Well, I fugured it wouldnt be good to go into surgery with a full bladder, so I told the nurse. She handed me a bed bottle. Under the covers with about 10 people around me, I did manage to contribute substantially to the bottle. This part becomes critical. This is my last good pee.
They came in and told me my surgeon was in the building but not in surgery, so they were going to take me back. They wheeled me in and I remember very little other than it was cold in there. The pretty blonde NA had a gown and mask on, did something to my line, and that was that. All I know is that it was about 7:45 when I went in there.
I woke up in recovery being pushed around in my bed. I saw a clock and it was 10:30. First question I heard was " on a scale of one to ten, what is your pain?". Not wanting to be a hero, I said 9. Bam, a shot in the IV line. Not much help, same question shortly after, same answer and bam, another shot. I was beginning to like this. It took a few times, but I got pretty cozy. In fact, once you quit bitching, the nurses quit coming around. The chit chat in there gets to become a real pain in the ass. I dont want to hear about kids, spouses, lousy dates. Hey, I am here and you should be taking care of me. Oh well, I was just happy to be there. They told me I lost a lot of blood and they had to give me 3 units. I had only put one unit of my own in the bank, so thanks to whomever gave the other 2.....I think, at least for now. If I end up with aids or hepatitis, I will not be this happy. Anyway, a sure sign of things to come, I laid in recovery for over 4 hours. Seems they didnt have any rooms. In grad school, I spent a lot of time in a math class studying queuing theory. It seems that you wouldnt do surgery on someone if you didnt have a room for them. I knew my Dad and Sister were with Peg, and I also knew my Dad had to be exhausted and should go home. He would not leave until he saw me, so I started bitching to the nurse. She was going to see if she could bring them back and viola, a room. They took me to a room on the eigth floor of Mercy. My advice to anyone who gets sent to this floor, is to go home or jump out of a window. I will elaborate more, later.
Peg, Debbie and Dad came up shortly after I was wheeled in the room. It was somewhere around 4 by now. I told them that my belly was sore, but I was pretty comfortable. I also told them that my backside didnt hurt at all. I thought this was a bit strange since my doc told me he would be going through my perineum, or as some of you know it, my 'taint'. Dad said just to wait til tomorrow. Deb and Dad left and Peg and I had some time together. We didnt say much but we both realized how much we rely on each other and how glad we were that we still had each other. She had to teach that night, and had to leave. It was about 5 pm. Peg left and they brought me supper. Well, I couldnt sit up, and so I figured it was easier to just not eat. They put a morphine drip in my line and I could take a hit every 6 minutes, up to 6 hits an our. I did the math and figure I could have a really good 36 minutes and a really shit 24 minutes, or just take a shot every 12 minutes and be reasonably comfortable. Amazingly, I programmed myself to wake up about every 12 minutes and hit the trigger. The first night passed with the usual interruptions, taking my vitals. I was not passing any pee, and I had a catheter attached. I asked if I could have water since that is a vital part of pee, and I hadnt had any for about 18 hours. They gave me a Ringers bag along with my IV, and I began to drink water. The first contributions to my bag were very bloody. I prayed for a better output, seriously prayed. By the next day, they told me I was the "King of Pee" on the whole 8th floor. I had serious output. It annoyed the nurse aid since my bag had to be dumped during an 8 hour shift at least two times instead of leaving it for the next shift. Another sign I was in a bit of trouble. I just figured the best thing was to sleep as much as possible. I did not need to sleep at night and be awake for the day. If I had to sleep, I slept. That night, I slept.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Home from the hospital
I was released from Mercy Hospital on Sept. 12, Friday. Peg finished work and picked me up. Having resigned myself to going home at 4 and knowing it would definitely happen, I spent the last day there very relaxed, just waiting for Peg. I am going to go back over the next few days and compose my thoughts and put them here. But, right now, I am still a bit weary and not all that able to focus on any one thing for a long length of time. I think I may have worn out my remote control already. But, today has been my best since surgery and I am hoping that I can continue to say that every day from here on out. I want to thank all my friends and family for their support and prayers. I had a problem with water output after the surgery. I am connected to a catheter so I have no control. I prayed that God would help me through this problem and I quickly gained the reputation as the King of Pee on the 8th floor of Mercy. Nothing like Divine Intervention. I am going to wrap up this entry saying that I am eternally grateful to all who helped me through this. Peg had unbelievable stress from this and so soon after burying her father, but she made it through. I hope the post stress relief doesn't hit her too hard. When I get a bit stronger, I will be back with more of the ordeal.
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