The 90 mile per hour days came to a screeching halt for me. I was laid up in the hospital for 10 days. It started with procedure on my left foot on Thursday, May 3rd. No post operation issues occurred until late Monday night on May 7th and it all went downhill after that. My left foot became hot and tender. I was in pain but nothing an oxycontin paired with Tylenol and Advil couldn't control. I called the doctor and went to see him on Tuesday, May 8th. It was suspected that I had developed an infection. OK. I figure an oral antibiotic could knock it out, right? Nope, those who know me know that it's never that easy for me. I had to go to the hospital for an IV antibiotic infusion. Since I didn't want to have to travel to the hospital on a daily basis for the treatments, I asked if a Hickman line could be installed under my skin in my collarbone area so that I can administer the IV antibiotics on my own. My doctor agreed that I am fairly intelligent enough (I don't know how I fooled him but I'll go with it) and since I don't get squeamish over these things, it was agreed that I would return the next day to have the line installed. Not so fast.
Wednesday, May 9th
Since I was having another procedure, I went through the usual fasting process. No food or drinks after midnight. I was scheduled for 8 a.m. so I showed up on time. While I was going through the pre-op testing, I was informed that I developed a fever and the procedure was going to be canceled as a result.
Meanwhile, my foot had swelled up tremendously and I was pretty miserable. Anytime I put my foot down, it was enough to make me consider amputating it since the pain was that awful. I was sent into the operating room had to have some stitches taken out to help my foot drain the fluid that had accumulated. It helped a bit and the plan was for me to return to the operating room on Thursday, May 10th to have the stitches put back in.
Thursday, May 10th
I went through another fasting process. I was rolled back into the operating room and was rolled right out. My foot wasn't cooperating and it was best to wait another 24 hours before I got stitched up again. Back to the drawing board.
Friday, May 11th
I went through another fasting process. All I kept thinking was I'm gonna be skinny. Continuous fasting should have achieved some results right? I won't know until I get home and can stand on the scale. My doctor comes in and checks on me pre-op and told me that since the swelling hasn't gone down as much as he had hoped, I was going to be sent for an MRI. The radiologist identified areas where the fluid was "stuck" and we discussed options. I was rolled back into the operating room and went through my third procedure. An incision was made on the side of my foot to help the fluid drain and I was hopeful that the third time was going to be the charm. I was rolled back into my room around 11:30 p.m. and I was still on local anesthesia. I thought all was well.
Saturday, May 12th
3 a.m. and the local anesthesia wore off. It was uncomfortable and I rang the bell for the nurse and asked for pain killers. I was given morphine. The first shot didn't do anything for me. I was given a dose of oxycontin to go hand in hand. That didn't do anything for me. The second shot of morphine should have done the trick. It didn't do anything. The pain was searing and it made me cry. For the record, I NEVER cry for pain since I have a very high threshold for pain. The nurse called the doctor and I was given a dose of dilaudid. That finally did the trick. Dilaudid is a very powerful painkiller that is 7 times stronger than morphine. I can truly say that I had reached rock bottom. The stay in the hospital was getting to me. I felt like a caged animal and I was stuck on bed rest. On top of all the drama I experienced with my pain earlier in the day, I fell out of bed around 12:30 p.m. That was the icing on the cake. I was so doped up on pain killers that I misjudged the distance between me and the crutches. BOOM. I fell out of bed and all the nurses came rushing into the room. Not smart. I was then designated a "Falling Star" and had a "Falling Star" magnet put on my door indicating that I am high risk for falling. I was also informed that the second time it happens, I was going to be restrained to the bed. As a precaution, the bed alarm was activated. My primary care doctor was notified and my podiatrist came by to check on my foot. My podiatrist shook his head when he walked in and he sent me down to x-ray to make sure I didn't break any bones. Luckily, nothing was broken. I was pretty miserable and was stuck in bed complete with the demoralizing bed alarm. Oh joy.
Sunday, May 13th
Mothers Day at the hospital. The weather was beautiful but I wasn't able to go out and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. My primary care doctor came by to visit and proceeded to tell me about his reaction when he received the call that I fell out of bed. He stated that if he got another call about me falling out of bed, he was going to come and strangle me and tie me to the bed. Wow. I didn't realize that I had that effect on people. Then again, I'm not used to having people doing things for me. I am extremely independent hate the prison like effect the hospital was having on me.
Fast forward, my podiatrist comes to visit and check on me. I hear the words " dusky" "circulation" and "very dark". My ears perked up and I asked what the story was. The concern was the fluid wasn't draining properly and my blood vessels were getting constricted. If blood vessels get constricted, there is a chance that I would lose a toe on my foot. The verdict was to wait 24 hours and then make a decision. I was on a steady diet of dilaudid, toradol (an anti-inflammatory) and roxicodone. The pain was being managed and I was pretty OK. It was a matter of time. I was praying that I wasn't going to lose a toe.
Monday, May 14th
The fluid didn't subside and after consulting with a vascular surgeon, I was sent down for an ultrasound, it was confirmed that I didn't have a blood clot in my leg and had very healthy blood flow. However, the fluid was still there and it wasn't draining. I was going back to the operating room and was fasting again. A decision was made to cut the top of my foot to allow ample drainage. I was rolled back into the operating room and the fourth operation was performed in a matter of two weeks. This time, it did the trick. An incision was made and a lot of fluid came out and my toe was spared. I can honestly say, I felt a significant difference. Amen is all I was able to say.
Tuesday, May 15th
Another check up and my foot looked a hell of a lot better than it did a few days earlier. We were waiting to see if I could go in for my final operation to stitch up the incision and I can finally start the proper healing process.
Wednesday, May 16th
Fasting procedure again. I was rolled back into the operating room and my final operation was performed. I had stitches to close the last incision. All went well without any complications and now the clock is ticking for me to get released from the hospital.
Thursday, May 17th
My doctor comes by to check on me and is pleased with my progress. He was very guarded as to when I was going to be released from the hospital. I was chomping at the bit to get out and made it pretty clear that I wanted to go home.
Friday, May 18th
Healing process is happening and it was decided it was time to let me go. Trust me, I did not need to be told twice to go. I packed up as quickly as I could and high tailed out of there. It was nice to be home sleeping in my bed.
I must say during my stay, I got to know all the nurses, orderlies and clinical assistants. It was not unusual for them to be found in my room talking with me. I became the mascot of the floor. I was told that throughout this process, watching all that I went through, I was always pleasant with them. I never forgot to say "please" or "thank you" and they appreciated it. I'll miss my friends that I made at the hospital and will always be grateful for their care.
Now, I have to finish my recovery and have all the stitches removed. It will probably be another 2-3 weeks before I am able to walk on my foot. Here's to a non-eventful recovery.
