Four weeks ago today, I had an abdominal surgery to remove painful adhesions that had developed after my four c-sections. When I was discussing the procedure with my trusted doctor of nineteen years, she suggested, “If you want, we could do a tummy tuck at the same time!”
Heck yeah! Who wouldn’t want their fat gut cut away? And so, I went under the knife, partly for medical reasons, and partly for vanity. Unfortunately, the healing process has been much more of an ordeal than I anticipated. Normally, after a surgical procedure I am back on my feet within a very short time, and depending only on Tylenol for pain management. I expected this to be the same. But on the ninth day of narcotics, as I stood weeping in the shower and freaking out because I didn’t know what they did with my old belly button, hubby said, “You have GOT to get off the drugs!”
Unfortunately, the doctor agreed. It could have had something to do with the crying jag I was on while sitting in her office. Or maybe it was when I asked, “What if I rip open my incision in my sleep and wake up with my uterus in my hands?”
My paranoia was really starting to get on everyone’s nerves, so as we drove home I said to hubby, “The only way I can get off the drugs is if I have a real Coke.”
He pulled into the very next drive-thru. Having been a diet drinker for years, I had forgotten how amazing the real stuff tastes! It fortified me, and enabled me to switch from narcotics to Tylenol. I drank one a day for the next two weeks, and now I’m weaning myself off by cutting it with the caffeine free diet version.
In the meantime, I picked up a vicious bacteria, and now have a serious infection along my incision line. Perhaps the bacteria found me at the ER. A few days after the surgery, I couldn’t breathe. My throat was making gurgling and bubbling noises, and my airway felt as though it was closing off. It took three tries before they were able to do a CT scan. When you have a tummy tuck, you can’t lay flat (or stand up straight), so they had to get my butt angled into the air so that my chest would be flat enough to scan. It was an ordeal, and in “hind”sight, somewhat humorous.
They determined I was suffering from subcutaneous emphysema. Basically, when you have surgery, air gets trapped under your skin. In my case, the air worked its way up to my chest and neck and caused an unusual amount of pressure.
A few days later, the infection set in. My fever was up, the pain was intense, and the doctor sent me back to the ER. I took bleach wipes with me, and wiped down my chair in the waiting room, the rails on the bed, the nurse call button, and the other patients.
Now, I am seeing an infectious disease doctor and making a 40 minute drive every morning in order to receive IV antibiotics. I also get to make multiple trips to the Wound Care Center. Plus, I have to see the original doctor and the plastic surgeon for check-ups. The subcutaneous emphysema has subsided, but the gurgling noises and tightness remain. I also sound like Mickey Mouse. If it lasts another week, I get to add an ENT to my list of physicians.
On my last visit to the plastic surgeon, the nurse said, “Have you heard about our Botox special?”
I replied, “I’m still not standing upright from the last special, so I’m not particularly interested.”
I’m starting to look like a hunchback, I have gaping wounds and exposed tissue, I can barely talk, I have more medication in my system than the average pharmacy stocks on its shelves, the compression girdle hurts, the drainage tube had to be sewn back in place where it remains today, and I’m running myself ragged going to doctor’s appointments. I can’t help but wonder, if I’d put this much effort into exercising and eating right, would my belly be just as flat?
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