I have no clue what day it is. I believe it is Saturday. Surgery was Thursday. G got stuck on the interstate and wasn’t here when they took me, but he was there when I woke up. The anesthesiologist blasted Rush for me in the OR until I went to sleep.
The surgeon used my current chest tube hole, reopened a previous site, and added a third one mid-back, which he has already advised that I have tattooed. I refused the PCA pump; after my experiences last time with narcotics I chose to tough it out. Side note: toughing it out is hard.
Mom & Kay got here on Friday. I screwed up yesterday and lost track of my pain med schedule. By 8:30pm I was dying, thinking I had to wait until 10. My night nurse informed me my last oxy was at 2:40pm. So what did I take at 5pm? Oh, yeah…that was a Nexium. Dumbass, Kerri.
I’m on my 6th IV since Tuesday, as my veins have given up. The junk they sampled from my lungs with the bronchoscopy cultured some kind of staph infection. Fantastic. Because coughing this hard with chest tubes is so much fun. And my nurse needs to be thankful that I’m in a good place right now, because her incompetence is staggering and she’s come close to having a slipper thrown at her head.
Surgeon was just here. He said that there is still an air leak. What? You’re surprised by this? Anyhow, vicious cycle here, because we have suction turned up as high as it goes. This is to ensure that the lung inflates and adheres to the wall fully (after enduring a second round of pleuradesis and having 2 spots of lung removed & stapled, it had better stick). Problem is, when you have a leak, suction actually makes it worse. So, I have to endure high suction to hold the lung up, but then a few days off suction in hopes that the leak heals.
Best case scenario? Tuesday afternoon. Worst case scenario? “Let’s not go there,” said the surgeon.
And so, here I lay in waiting. I manage to walk a little here and there. G washed my hair for me today. And I’ve only thrown up once this go round, as opposed to September. I am sore all over. Handling the PTSD from last time a little better. Keeping depression in check as well. Nothing I can do but keep on keeping on, right? Sleep, eat, meds, sleep, walk, meds. Repeat. Tons of rest required.
One day, this will fix itself and I’ll get back to normal life with my kid. She’s the whole reason I’m alive.