When I am discharged from the hospital I am on 8-10 different meds and to say that I am not exactly myself is an understatement. There are side affects that I am not aware of, like the fact that I will ask my husband the same question at least 15-20 times within any given hour. Bless his heart, he just continues to have the same conversation with me over and over.
But what I am VERY aware of is my Bionic Hearing capabilities. I can hear conversations between others across a room. Sleep is restless because the slightest sound will awaken me. You would think this super human trait would be welcome, but it is not. It can't be shut off and it can create an overwhelming buzz in my brain.
But the hardest side affect, not for me but for my husband, is that when I am in a vehicle it feels like we are going 170 mph and out of control. As you can imagine, this makes for an interesting 5 hour ride home. Now keep in mind I ask questions over and over....so "Chris, just how fast are you going?!?" or "Slow Down!!!" is a constant in my husbands ear.
He swears that we are only going 70 mph, but I know better. I just know he must be lying because it feels like 170 mph! So, I need to see the speedometer for proof, which drives him crazy because this isn't exactly and easy thing for me to do. I have multiple pillows surrounding me to help with comfort and I am in a compression bra and a compression piece around my mid section. I would liken it having 100 Spanks on at once. It is nearly impossible to sit up or to bend and it is excruciatingly painful to do so. But I MUST see the speedometer because there is no way in hell he is only going 70!
When he changes lanes it feels like the car is going to go flying off the road and I scream at him to slow down again for the 100th time. I try to contain it but I am constantly jumping and grabbing at the handle of the door. The last straw for Mr. Eckhoff was when I grabbed his seat belt and screamed as he passed a semi.
His nerves frayed beyond humanly possible he turns off the interstate. He thinks it will do us both good to get out of the car for a bit and get something to eat. We sit in the back of Charlie's Cafe, which was fairly busy. BUT then my super sonic, bionic hearing kicked in. I couldn't take it, it was too much noise at once. I could hear every single person in that cafe talking and it was system overload. I started crying and left before Chris could finish eating. I laid down in the back of the car.
Chris' brilliant idea was for me just to stay in the backseat for the remainder of the drive. BIG MISTAKE! Now, instead of 170 mph, we were going faster than the speed of sound and I was in hysterics. We had to pull over and put me in the front seat. (I can't be sure but I thought I saw a tear in his eye as he buckled me in and I can only guess it wasn't for me.)
So thus once again, what I can only imagine is sheer torture for my husband, I begin again screaming, jumping, asking how fast we are going, trying to get a look at the speedometer and then passing out from the pain. Only to be awakened because we are going to fly off the road and I scream, jump, ask how fast we are going.....
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
OVERTHINKING A SCALE OF 1 - 10 ?
Surgery #3 in the bag!
Did my usual prep beforehand...laundry, packing, some grocery shopping for the kids, underarm waxing...can't forget that. And since I'm already there why not the brows, upper lip and toes (don't ask). I am vain. Actually it's quite necessary since I am unable to shave my underarms for weeks. Plus, when I'm laying on the operating table I would hate to offend. So you see it's for the hospital staff really. Common courtesy. Scratch the vain and replace with thoughtful, or giving, or selfless...you choose.
On the way here I made Chris stop at Albertville, Target (oh how I miss you since we moved), and as many gas stations as possible. He finally realized I was stalling. I didn't want to arrive at my destination. Since I don't do well with anesthesia and had so many issues with my muscles I wasn't all too excited for another go at it.
The surgery went well. They did a whole different cocktail for knocking me out and injected my muscles with Botox to ward off the muscle spasms I had so bad last time. I was in recovery for quite some time and finally brought to my room where it soon began. "On a scale of 1 - 10, how would you rate your pain?"
This question freaks me out every time. I don't know why but it sends me into a panic where I try to explain why I chose the number I did. "I just had surgery so I would say 10! Well, no maybe not. Is 10 reserved for screaming out of your mind pain? No, I would assume they don't ask that question if your screaming. So, is it ok to use 10?? Maybe we better say 9, yes a 9."
I am finally settled in and not moving too much and here it comes. "On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your pain?" This to me is tricky. I'm full of meds and not a ten but it certainly isn't a 2. I pick 5, what I call an annoying, constant pain but not unbearable.
It's in the middle of the night and I am on at least four or five different meds when I'm asked THE Question. My first reaction is to say 2 but wait, that's too close to 1 and is anyone ever a one? I mean, even healthy, are you completely pain free? And if I say 2 or 3 will they reduce the meds, because right now they are working. Better off with a 4. "Yes a 4" I say. "Not a five, where it's annoying but it's there, so yes a 4." Whew!
I am asked that question at least every 3-4 hours so you can imagine how crazy they think I am.
I am allowed to leave the hospital today and will have to stay in a hotel for at least a night to be close. Things are going well so far. When I got to my room I felt my new breasts and cried. They feel normal.
Well, I have to go, the nurses are here and I need to rate my pain again....I'm starting to hurt again but I don't want to seem like I'm a pill popper so I am thinking 7. Yes, definitely 7.
Did my usual prep beforehand...laundry, packing, some grocery shopping for the kids, underarm waxing...can't forget that. And since I'm already there why not the brows, upper lip and toes (don't ask). I am vain. Actually it's quite necessary since I am unable to shave my underarms for weeks. Plus, when I'm laying on the operating table I would hate to offend. So you see it's for the hospital staff really. Common courtesy. Scratch the vain and replace with thoughtful, or giving, or selfless...you choose.
On the way here I made Chris stop at Albertville, Target (oh how I miss you since we moved), and as many gas stations as possible. He finally realized I was stalling. I didn't want to arrive at my destination. Since I don't do well with anesthesia and had so many issues with my muscles I wasn't all too excited for another go at it.
The surgery went well. They did a whole different cocktail for knocking me out and injected my muscles with Botox to ward off the muscle spasms I had so bad last time. I was in recovery for quite some time and finally brought to my room where it soon began. "On a scale of 1 - 10, how would you rate your pain?"
This question freaks me out every time. I don't know why but it sends me into a panic where I try to explain why I chose the number I did. "I just had surgery so I would say 10! Well, no maybe not. Is 10 reserved for screaming out of your mind pain? No, I would assume they don't ask that question if your screaming. So, is it ok to use 10?? Maybe we better say 9, yes a 9."
I am finally settled in and not moving too much and here it comes. "On a scale of 1-10 how would you rate your pain?" This to me is tricky. I'm full of meds and not a ten but it certainly isn't a 2. I pick 5, what I call an annoying, constant pain but not unbearable.
It's in the middle of the night and I am on at least four or five different meds when I'm asked THE Question. My first reaction is to say 2 but wait, that's too close to 1 and is anyone ever a one? I mean, even healthy, are you completely pain free? And if I say 2 or 3 will they reduce the meds, because right now they are working. Better off with a 4. "Yes a 4" I say. "Not a five, where it's annoying but it's there, so yes a 4." Whew!
I am asked that question at least every 3-4 hours so you can imagine how crazy they think I am.
I am allowed to leave the hospital today and will have to stay in a hotel for at least a night to be close. Things are going well so far. When I got to my room I felt my new breasts and cried. They feel normal.
Well, I have to go, the nurses are here and I need to rate my pain again....I'm starting to hurt again but I don't want to seem like I'm a pill popper so I am thinking 7. Yes, definitely 7.
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