Saying Goodbye to George

Back again! Feeling really good - too good!  I know myself well enough to recognize that I am very prone to overdoing things too early, so I'm being extra careful.  Chafing at my level of inactivity like crazy!  I want to go for a walk.  I want to arrange my balcony planters and bags of soil, now that they're no longer buried in snow, so they can thaw out faster.  I want to go hiking in the valley. 

As good as I'm feeling, I still get tired a lot faster than expected, and I need to be extra aware of any pulling, tugging or strain in the area where George used to be.  The last thing I want to do is tear something and end up back in the hospital!

So how did George's eviction go?

Quite well, actually.

The Saturday before the surgery, I went in for my pregnancy test.  The lab was in a mall I knew the location of, though I'd never actually been in it before, so Dh and I gave ourselves extra time to wander around trying to find the place.  It ended up being right near the entrance we came in at, so we were almost half an hour early.  So we handed in my paperwork and settled down for a long wait.  It ended up being a short wait.  I got called in after about 10 minutes.  The test itself took only a few minutes - the tech even commented that it was the first time he'd taken only a single vial of blood at a time! *L*  We were done almost 10 minutes before my actual appointment!

The evening before the surgery, Dh helped me with all the stuff I needed to get ready for (you know you've got a solid marriage when your spouse actually volunteers to help you with an enema! *L*), including packing a few things in the off change I ended up staying at the hospital longer.  I made sure to eat something late in the day, just so the fasting would be less of an issue by the morning.  Of course, I made sure to pack my project bag and a book, so I'd have something to keep me occupied during any inevitable waits before the actual surgery.  The last thing I needed to do was use the antiseptic sponge in the shower before we headed for the hospital.

We got there early, as Dh dropped me off at the door before finding someplace to park that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg.  Early didn't matter, it turned out, as I got my wrist bracelet from pre-administration right away.  My next stop was on a different floor, so I waited at pre-admin for Dh to join me, only to find him calling me from another floor, where he'd followed the signs for Day Surgery.  I took the elevator up to where I was supposed to go, but he'd taken the stairs, which apparently didn't go where he thought they did!  He ended up having to take the elevator to find me.  By the time he did, I had already been taken in my "room" in the pre-op area. This was where I'd be taken after spending some time in the recovery room. That early in the morning, there was no one else there, though a couple more patients joined me over the next few hours.

I had about 2 hours before the surgery itself, with various things needing to be done at specific times before then.  Though I was still on a food and fluid fast, I was given some pills to take with just enough water to wash them down.  A tiny cup of another medication was measured out and waiting for me to take when the porter arrived to take me to the operating room.  I didn't get hooked up to the IV for about an hour, so I was able to get some crocheting done while we waited.  Dh brought a book.  Unfortunately, once the IV was in the back of my hand, I found I didn't have enough range of motion to manipulate a hook, so no more crochet.  I couldn't even get at my book, as it was in a locker with my clothes, and the locker was blocked off with my bed tray and its awaiting medications. 

While the nurse was going over my paperwork at the start, I asked again about getting a picture of George.  She told us that they should be able to get a laparoscopic image for me, which sounded a lot better than the original plan of getting a picture of George after he was removed in little bits and pieces!  She made a note on my paperwork about it.  She mentioned that it wasn't the first time she'd had such a request.  Somehow, I wasn't surprised to hear that!

Of course, hospitals being the way they are, I didn't go into surgery on time.  It was only 15 minutes late, though, so that was pretty good.  The porter made sure I went to the washroom before he took me away, then made sure I took the last medication what was waiting.  It was something to fight nausea.  Considering how I felt when they added the antibiotics to my IV, I'd hate to think how bad it would have been if I didn't get any!  But I get ahead of myself.

The operating rooms were on another floor, so I got an elevator ride.  The effects of the medications made that rather interesting.  You know that weird feeling you sometimes get in your head and stomach in a fast elevator?  Well, it wasn't a fast elevator, it was going up, and I was lying down, but it felt like I was standing in an elevator the suddenly dropped 3 floors.  Blech!

I was first wheeled into a sort of staging area.  A nurse went over my paperwork meticulously, including all the assurances to make sure I was the right patient getting the right surgery!  Then she noticed my red bracelet for my bloodwork had expired.  ?!?  She was able to get an extension on it, however, so I didn't need to get another 4 vials of blood tested, thank God.  I had several nurses who would be working on me come by to introduce themselves.  The gynecologist swung by and talked to me for a bit.  He assured me again that all my blood tests came back clear of any markers for cancer.  (Oh, and I'm not pregnant. LOL)  Everything looked like George was nothing more than a really large cyst.  The surgeon that would be working on me came by to introduce himself as well.  The nurse had me make one last trip to the bathroom, just in case, and then I was off to the operating room.

Operating rooms are cool looking places!  I thought it was neat to see all these various lights, screens and other things were on movable arms hanging from the ceiling.  They made me think of octopi.

I got introduced to a couple more nurses (so many people!) as I got transferred from my stretcher to the operating table.  Actually, I was able to move myself without any problem, with the nurse making sure I was lying where I needed to be.  There was an opening in the operating table I had to line my butt up against.  There was one arm rest set up already when I got there and, once I was settled on, a nurse attached a second arm rest, which had me lying there with both arms extended.  The anesthetist put a mask for oxygen over my mouth and nose and got me to do some deep breathing.  Then the antibiotics were added to the IV.  I promptly started feeling quite nauseous and got the weirdest dizzy feeling in the top of my brain.  They gave the meds a little while to kick in, then the anesthetic was injected into my IV and I was asked to start counting.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the recovery room.

My memories are a touch vague at this point.  I still had the horrible dizzy feeling at the top of my brain.  Odd that it was such a localized feeling.  I immediately started doing my deep breathing and wiggling my feet around for the recommended leg exercises.  I was feeling really cheerful and had a strong urge to sing.  In my befuddled state, the only song I could think of was an old Polish love song my mother used to sing.  I've long since forgotten the words, but the melody has always been a favorite of mine, so I started humming it.

As cheerful as I was feeling, I do remember wishing my stomach were feeling more stable, and appreciating the anti-nausea meds they'd given me.

I don't know how long it was before I was wheeled back to my room, where Dh was sitting in a chair with his book, waiting for me.  The nurse quickly dashed away to get something for me.  A print out with three images of George!  I would have been happy with just one, so getting three of them was extra cool.

Meet George.

 Weird looking, eh?  Somehow, I wasn't expecting to see so many blood vessels, though now that I think about it, I'm not sure why I thought that.

 I'm assuming that the silver thing that's pulling on George is what was used to suck him out in little pieces.

Here's George from another angle.  Another unexpected detail - I hadn't expected George to be such a pasty white colour.

Looking at the images, George looks rather bigger than 13x11cm.


I didn't bother scanning the third image, as George isn't really in it, other than a small white patch in the back.  At least I think the white patch is George.  It looks a lot different than the above images, so it might actually be something else.  I want to take the print out with me for my follow up visit so I can ask what is in that image, because I'm just not sure what's what!

As the nurse checked on my incisions, she told me that there were three of them, and had made some comments that had me thinking the surgery was bigger than they expected it to be.  There was the expected incision in my naval, one directly below it (right in a crease, too... :-/) and one to the right of my naval.  It wasn't until I was home later on that I realized she'd actually missed one more on my left.  It was far enough to my side that it was covered by my hospital gown and blankets when she checked on me.  Only the lower incision was of any concern, needing a bit of gauze to absorb a small amount of bleeding.

I did end up getting a D&C, but also found out that they were able to leave the ovary and fallopian tube intact!  George had been beside my ovary.  I'm not clear if he was completely unattached to the ovary or what - clearly he was attached to something that got twisted up enough to send me to the emergency!  I'll find out more about that when I go to my follow up with the gynecologist after 6 weeks.  I'm curious to find out how big George turned out to actually be, and if they weighed him.

The next while is still pretty foggy in my memory.  Dh updated the family on how I was doing.  I was to stay there as long as I felt the need, and could go home any time I felt I was up to it.  After a while I tried sitting up, which got the dizziness in the top of my head going quite a bit.  I wanted to get up and about and try going to the washroom, but the wave of nausea with the dizziness was a bit much.  Dh got a nurse to get a barf bowl for me, which came in handy.  A quick "cough" into the bowl, and I immediately felt better!  I was able to go to the bathroom and walk around for a bit before I had to lie down again.

The nurse brought me a muffin and some apple juice for a snack to eat as soon as I could.  Though I was hungry for my fast, I ended up dozing off instead.  When she came back later and offered to take it away, I found I was feeling stable enough to eat. 

I have no idea what kind of muffin it was, but right then, it was the most Delicious thing I'd ever eaten! LOL

Though I was still feeling that weird dizziness, I quickly improved and soon felt ready to go home.  I figured I'd do better then than in the hospital.  We got me dressed and ready, then Dh helped me to the nurses desk.  There was a bit of paperwork to do, and they even gave me a couple of barf bags for the car, just in case. LOL  I didn't need them.

Dh helped me down to the lobby where I could sit while he got the van.  I was able to walk out to it on my own when he got there.  The ride home was not the most pleasant, what with feeling every bump and lump in either my head, my stomach, or where George used to be, but it actually wasn't that bad.  I did the steps to the front door all right.  Once inside, I sat for a while.  The girls had cooked supper and I was actually able to eat!  We got all caught up, then I decided it was time to head upstairs to bed.  Eldest stayed close to help me if I needed it.  I almost got to the top when I had to stop and send Eldest running for a barf bowl. :-(  Like in the hospital, I felt a LOT better after that.  I kept a bowl nearby, anyhow, just in case.  What I really needed was some rest, so bed was where I headed as soon as I could.  I ended up down for 3-4 hours, and felt much improved for the sleep.

The next few days were careful ones.  I was to get my stitches removed in 3-5 days, 7 at most.  For that, Dh made an appointment with my regular doctor on the Friday.  Dh's work laptop was brought up for me, as well as my project bag, and a library book I was working on.  I commandeered Youngest's bed, since it was the easiest for me to get in and out of, but it's a queen size bed so I wasn't actually kicking her out of her room.  She's got our old tv set up in her closet, so we were able to have a bit of a Star Trek marathon (we're working our way through season three now).  Though I tried to be up and about as much as I could, I got tired so very quickly.  Stairs were a bit much to do, so I avoided them as much as possible.  Thankfully, there was little need for me to take them.  The family took excellent care of me!

The hard part was not being able to stay in any one position for very long.  I could sit, but had to lean back to keep pressure off my lower abdomen.  I could stand and walk, but for only short lengths of time.  I could lie on my side, but had to switch from one side to the other after a fairly short time.  Still, it wasn't that bad.  I had been given a prescription for some T3s to take as needed.  I took one before going for that first nap after coming home from the hospital, but felt no need to take another until the second night after.  I haven't taken any since.

It took a while for the dizziness to go away, but my stomach was pretty steady.  I was able to eat without restriction, but felt the need to stick to light fare, so I had myself a lot of fruit or berries mixed with cottage cheese. 

Dh had booked the Tuesday after my surgery off to help with me, with possible extensions beyond.  He did stay home on the Wednesday as well (his employers have been fantastic about all this!), but I felt good enough that he went to work as normal on Thursday.  The girls took over the running of the household completely, and have done a great job of it.

On the friday, it was time to get my stitches out.  Dh worked from home until it was time for my appointment.  Because of lack of parking in the area, Youngest came along.  He dropped us off in front of the clinic and she helped me with the doors to get in while Dh tried to find somewhere to pull over until I was done.  Though early for my appointment, I didn't even get a chance to sit down before Youngest and I were taken in.  This was the first time my regular doctor knew anything about what had been going on, so he was a bit surprised by why I was there.  He did a quick check, then he had one of his assistance do the actual stitch removal while he tended other patients.  She had a bit of a time of it - the stitches were tied extremely tight, and one of them was stuck in a scab and needed to be soaked for a bit before she could get it out.  Everything we healing up great, though.  My dr saw me one more time, and then we were done.  I doubt it took as much as 10 minutes, altogether.

This had been the first day I had done more than just go up and down the stairs, though, and I was really surprised by how tired I felt by the time I got to the van (Dh had managed to pull over in a loading zone nearby, so I didn't bother calling him to come and get me).  In the drive home, the dizziness was back, and I could feel every pothole and crack in the streets!  With how well and quickly the stitches had healed, I somehow managed to forget that the area where George used to be needed healing, too. *L*  Once home, I pretty much went straight to bed and slept solid for a couple of hours.  Dh worked from home for the rest of the day to be available for me.

Saturday (yesterday) had me feeling a lot stronger, and today I'm feeling even more improvement.  I'm almost completely pain free - just the smallest of twinges where George used to be if I over do things a bit.  I'm able to do the stairs almost as normal.  I still get tired faster than usual and have been feeling the need for naps a lot more often, but otherwise feel great.  I still get little reminders that all is not quite back to normal.  For example, as I've been writing this, I haven't had to stop and go lie down, as I did in my last post, but I have had to pause, lean back and straighten out my waist to relieve pressure on the area where George used to be.  I want to walk, but can't go far without feeling exhausted.

Overall, though, I'm really happy with how my healing is progressing.

I've also felt really comfortable with letting the girls take over around the house.  They've done the cooking and cleaning, run what errands they could that don't require driving, and Youngest kept up her guitar lessons as normal.

Eldest is 18 now and Youngest is turning 15 soon.  Clearly, they are both quite capable of running a household on their own.

Pre-op preparedness

My apologies for the lack of posting.  As of now, I've had my surgery and am in recovery.  Things went well, but it's taken a lot more out of me than I expected.  More on that later.

First to back track to the pre-op. 

The pre-op and pre-administration took place just under a week before the surgery.  It was an early morning thing, at the women's hospital section of our nearby hospital.  There were several other women waiting with me by the time a nurse came out with our wrist bracelets.  Then the whole lot of us were taken in (Dh had to stay behind in the waiting room at first) to a media room.

Once everyone who was expected to be there was in, we got to watch a 20 minute VHS movie on what to do after surgery to speed recovery from the anesthetic.  There was the coughing (to help prevent possible infections or pneumonia) while protecting any incisions we might have, deep breathing, and leg exercises to get the blood flowing, in case there were any restrictions during surgery.  It was stressed that we should get up and about as soon as possible, with how to do so safely, again with emphasis to protecting any incisions.

After the video, the nurse that called us in got our heights and weights, then took any paperwork we had.  After that, I was led to an examination room while the other women stayed in the media room to see another movie.  Once there, I was able to go and get Dh to join me.

We weren't there long before the nurse was back and giving us the lowdown.  She spent the most time with us of all.  There was a quick run over my paperwork and medical history.  I even had to mark on a line drawing of the human body exactly where the surgery was to take place (which made me curious as to what happened in the past to make that necessary).  I was reacquainted with what was expected to be done, with a description of a laparoscopy, including being inflated with CO2 and any potential discomfort that might lead to.  At best, the gynecologist was expecting to do a single incision in my naval.  At worse, I'd have an incision from sternum to pubic bone to remove any oddity they might find.  In between were multiple laparoscopic incisions to a "bikini cut" incision for a hysterectomy.  Also discussed was the possible D&C.  All the bases were covered.

Then we got to what I was supposed to do the day before the surgery.  Oh, joy.  First, I was given a bottle of enema solution.  Yup, the evening before the surgery, I was to give myself an enema.  I understand why, but... ick.  Then I was given a seal package with an antiseptic sponge.  I was to use it to wash my entire abdominal area before heading for the hospital.  I was also to start a complete fast beginning midnight before the surgery.  No food or fluids of any kind.  I already had a date for the surgery, but she gave me the time during this visit.  It was for 9:55 am, so a fast from midnight wasn't going to be too big of a challange.

She then described who else was to come in to see me.  She was a bit perplexed that I was to have someone from Internal Medicine to come in to see me, as she could see nothing in my paperwork that showed I needed it.  All my tests had been coming back healthy.  She did mention my weight, though I had assumed it was because she had just weighed me, along with all the other women, a short time ago but Dh said it was suggested as a possible reason for getting a visit from Internal Medicine.  I found out afterwards that, based on previous discussions I'd had with him about it, he was actually looking out for when and how my weight would be brought up.  I'm glad he did.

Shortly after she left, we got our first visit.  An electrocardiogram was to be done.  The tech wheeled in the machine and hooked me up to something like 8 wires, including two attached to my legs, just above the ankles.  She wasn't with us for long, but long enough to tell us that, according to her printout, I have a very healthy heart.

Next in line was Internal Medicine.  She was a very brisk person, and it made for a very short visit.  Like the nurse at the start, she was perplexed as to why she was even there, as there was nothing in my paperwork that told her she was needed.  Everything was showing normal and healthy (other than the presence of George, of course).  Again, she thought it might have something to do with my weight.  We had a brief talk about my medical history and past surgeries, almost none of which had anything to do with her department, and then she was gone.

We had a bit of a wait for the next person.  Another four vials of blood was taken.   That was a quiet one, as she had nothing to ask of me, really.  She took the samples, then put a red, waterproof bracelet on me, making sure I knew to leave it there.  If it was gone when I came back for my surgery, they'd have to take the samples again.  I was quite done with giving blood samples by then, thankyouverymuch!!

Oh, I had forgotten!  There was one more blood test the nurse at the start had written me up for.

A pregnancy test!

In the day or two before my surgery, I was to go in to a lab somewhere and get a pregnancy test done, no matter how unlikely the chance of me being pregnant.  It was standard proceedure.  In asking the nurse, she said that apparently there had been a pregnancy in a patient discovered during surgery.  Considering the type of surgery being done, they just don't take any chances.  If I forgot to get the pregnancy test done, the surgery would be cancelled.  We weren't about to let that happen!

The last person to speak to us was supposed to be the anesthetist.  We waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, Dh went out to ask if there was a problem.  He was told that the anesthetist was called away to an emergency patient.  A few minutes later, the nurse came by to let us know that the anesthetist was "upstairs" (in surgery) and that he'd be with us as soon as he could.

We had some time on our hands.  I got some good progress on the hat I was crocheting at the time!

Considering why he was called away, I was actually a bit surprised it wasn't longer before he came to see us.  He was still in his scrubs and hair cap.  He apologized for the delay, then started going over the paperwork.  He asked questions about whether or not I had sleep apnea, and if I had any caps, crowns or removable dental work.  He was quite happy with my electrocardiogram and the results of my blood work.  Then he made a questioning comment about how, other than my weight, of course, my health was excellent.

Uh huh.

Then he was bustling out again.  After that, we only had to wait for the nurse to come back and cut off my wrist bracelet (not the red one for the blood work!), and we were done.

On the drive home, we chatted about how it went and Dh pointed out the comments on my weight that I had missed earlier.  We found it rather strange that, despite test after test showing how healthy I am, it still was brought up.  Strange, but not surprising, I'm afraid.  Dh hasn't encountered is as much as I have, so now that he's more aware of it, he's catching on to how it comes up in the oddest of ways, sometimes.  It was actually much better than when it usually comes up - no one actually tried to blame anything on my weight.  Easy enough, since there was nothing that could be blamed on my weight, other than it being the possible reason Internal Medicine was called in to talk to me.

Overall, they were all pretty excellent in preparing me for all possibilities and making sure I had opportunity to ask questions.  They left me with no questions I needed to ask!

After we got home, we had the problem of finding a lab to get my blood test done.   Because the surgery was booked for a Monday, we had to find someplace open on the weekends.  The lab we usually go do is open weekdays only (though covered by our medicare system, the labs are privately owned facilities.  Most of the local ones are part of the same franchise).  A friend suggested one place she knew was open on Saturdays, possibly Sundays as well, which was a big help.  Normally I wouldn't bother booking an appointment, but considering the necessities surrounding this test, I actually made an appointment.  I was able to get one of the few open blocks just before they closed on the Saturday, so that worked out rather well.

That done, it was just a waiting game for the surgery.  I will have to write about that later, though.  Sitting in a position I can type in gets uncomfortable rather quickly, and I need to move around.

They're gonna do WHAT?

We've been out and about for the last bit.  Time for me to catch up.  Some I'll write about in other posts, but before I get to them, I want to follow up on my previous posts.

I got the call from the hospital I was waiting for.  My pre-op is booked for Tuesday morning at 8:30am.  It'll take a few hours.  The surgery itself is booked for the following Monday.  I'll find out what time I have to go in during the pre-op, where I will also be pre-admitted.  Handy, that.  Dh was able to book those days off, plus the day after my surgery, with a tentative extension in the unlikely event that things go wrong.  Things are moving along smoothly, and I'm quite happy with how it's all working out.

I spent a bit of time going over the information pamphlets I got from the gyno.  They described 3 different possible laparoscopic surgeries, including a hysterectomy.

The one describing the procedure I'll be getting had a few details the gyno forgot to mention.  One of them was the inflation.  I actually did know that this would be done - an old friend had described her laparoscopy some years back and mentioned it.  I had completely forgotten about it, though.  I'm going to be pumped full of CO2 so they have room to look around.

It takes a while for the gas to go away on its own.

Joy.

I'd better make sure I bring along some very loose clothing to wear when I'm done.

Then I got to the image in the pamphlet and discovered there was something else the doctor neglected to mention to me that had me spouting come choice words that had the rest of the family wondering what the heck was going on.  Seriously??  WTH?!?! 

It wasn't the ballooned belly in the image that bothered me.  Nor was it the laparoscope through the naval.  The second image showing a surgical instrument inserted through another incision didn't bother me, either. Nope.


It was this.

Yeah, that other thing.  That thing that looks like a medieval torture device.  The thing with the hinge.  A friggin' uterine manipulator.

W.
T.
H.

Stick something through an incision in my belly, I've got no problem.  Pump me full of CO2?  Go for it.

Sticking something through my vagina and INTO my uterus?  Then wiggling it around?

THAT gives me the willies.

*shudder*

I know I'm going to be out for this and I won't feel a thing if they do end up using it.  It doesn't matter.  It's bad enough I've had to put up with all those friggin' pelvic exams.  I don't like the idea of someone paying me a visit, shall we say, and I certainly don't like the idea of hosting a guest in my parlor.

Ew.

Ew.  Ew.  Ew.


Ew.

I really, really hope they don't need to use it.  Unfortunately, it's probably likely they will.  As my MIL (who has assisted many a surgery in her medical career) told Dh, aging, having children and weight changes has things moving around and settling in places they didn't start out.  Considering the difficulty they had trying to find things during the ultrasound, I imagine my bits and pieces have moved around a fair bit.  This is normal.  It just makes it a little harder on the doctors during surgery.

My MIL had assurances for Dh about the cyst, as well.  They're pretty normal and I may have had it for decades.  Had George not decided to do the twist, I may never have discovered him.  Of course, I told him this as well, but sometimes it helps him to hear it from somewhere else.  Hearing it from his own mother, with her background, probably did more to reassure him than hearing it from anyone else.

As for me, I'm looking forward to Tuesday.  I'll have to remember to bring my project bag along.  I imagine I'll be spending quite a bit of time waiting in between the tests and whatnot they have to do.  I've been told it'll be 2 - 3 hours altogether.

I wonder if I'll have a chance to visit a friend who's been stuck in that hospital for a few weeks now?  I haven't seen her in a while.  A visit would be nice. :-)

Meanwhile, I've been tentatively active.  Eldest escorted Youngest to her guitar lesson for me, but I've been able to walk to the library and back without issue, though I do tend to slow myself down.  Today I was on my feet a lot more than usual and felt fine until the last leg home.  There was just a bit of pulling in the area.  Not something I haven't felt before, but now I realize it's George, saying hello.

George, your days are numbered!

The continuing stooooory...

Ah, finally an almost quiet moment to continue the tale of George.

Which means I expect my husband to come down the stairs, wanting the computer, any moment now.  Because that's just the way it seems to go in this household.  ;-)

After getting changed and packed up, Dh left me in the waiting room of the emergency while he brought the van around to pick me up.  He'd used a parkade this time and, much to his shock, had to pay $25 for the four hours it was there.  Keep in mind that, in the downtown parkades a few blocks away, they charge a maximum of $14 or so a day.  So that was an unexpected hit.  All the hospitals have really expensive parking like this, I've heard, so we knew it would be high, but sheesh!

I was feeling almost normal by then.  The last dose of painkillers may or may not have worn off by then.  I wasn't feeling any pain, which was the important part.  Well enough to leave the waiting room and wait for Dh outside.  Ah, sweet fresh air! 

Dh dropped me off at home, where Eldest came out to make sure I was able to get up the stairs okay, while he went on to pick up my prescription for painkillers.  He was laughing at me about having to take suppositories until I pointed out that he'd be the one ... applying them, shall we say.  It's a good thing we buy latex gloves in bulk for when Eldest needs to top up her colour (her hair is bright blue at the moment).

The girls were doing the dishes when I got home (they're so sweet!) and Youngest promptly glommed herself onto me in a giant hug.  :-)  I spent the next while sitting at the computer, which had me facing the kitchen, and regaled them with all that had been happening in the last while.  I also sent emails to family to let them know I was home and telling them more than we could pass on through text messages and facebook status updates.  I found out later on that my sister, who is on dial-up and had connection problems for a while, wasn't actually able to get any of the messages I'd sent until I was already home.  Dh was home with my prescription soon though.  It was covered 100% by his insurance, which was nice. 

The family took care of everything for me - including making sure I had something to eat pretty much as soon as I got home.  It had been some 18 hours since I'd eaten that lonely little hunk of pork chop I'd managed to have before heading to the hospital.  And water.  Lots and lots of water.  I was feeling pretty dehydrated again by then!

I was completely exhausted.  I didn't want to go for a nap, as I figured it would mess up my sleep patterns, but in the end I just couldn't stay away.  I made up a pile of pillows so I could sleep reclined, as I had in the hospital, since lying flat even for a little while had caused problems.  I slept for a solid four hours.  What bliss!  No weird guy yelling all the time.  No interruptions from people wanting to poke and prod at me.  No test after test after test.

I so needed that nap!  It ended up not messing me up, either, as I found myself going to bed early, too.  Well, early for me, which means at about midnight or so.  Dh tried to set up a better incline for me - one that didn't use his body pillows, which he needs because of his back injuries.  It didn't work, unfortunately, and I ended up sleeping with Youngest.  She didn't mind at all. :-)

The next day, Saturday, I was feeling almost completely normal.  The only thing that reminded me of my ordeal was stiff and sore muscles on my entire left side.  Go figure! *L*  By Sunday, even that was gone!

On the Friday, we called the office of a gynecologist I was recommended to.  Actually, Dh tried to call while I was going down for my nap, but they had to talk to me directly.  We called a bit too soon, though.  They hadn't received my file yet.  The receptionist took down my info and said she'd call me back. 

That call back came on Monday morning.  Early!  They had an opening the next morning.  Could I come in that quickly?  I said yes, of course.  The quicker the better, as far as I was concerned.  I was surprised to have a 7:50am appointment, though.  I'd never encountered a doctor's office that was even open that early before!  Our own family doctor's office opens at 9pm, which seems to be pretty standard. 

Dh was able to book the time off from work to take me to the appointment.  His employers have been so fantastic! Not only were they supportive when he sent an email (from the hospital, via Blackberry) to let them know he wasn't coming in on Friday, but he was assured that he could work from home any time, if I needed him to take care of me.  I'm just really impressed with this company and how they treat their employees.

So Tuesday morning had us heading out to the medical centre my gynecologist works out of.  It's right near to the hospital emergency entrance, actually.  We got there early and Dh dropped me off while he went to find someplace to park that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg.  Early was good, since I had paperwork to fill out while I was waiting.

When someone came to get me and Dh, we were left in an examination room with instructions from me to strip from the wait down and sit on the exam table.  Gotta love those paper blankets they leave to cover up with. :-P  Dh and I chattered away while we waited, and I noticed a sign on the wall informing patients that, due to unexpected emergencies, sometimes appointments could be interrupted or delayed, with apologies and thanks for patience in advance. 

When the dr finally came in, he was looking over my file and started talking to me about my cyst.  I interrupted to clarify that they had determined it was just a cyst.  He seemed almost surprised by my question - as if he thought I already knew.  He flipped through the pages and told how the four different markers for cancer they'd tested for had all come back negative.  It's still possible that George is actually cancer, but at this point that's viewed as unlikely. 

(Shortly after the doctor came in, we got a knock on the door and he had to rush off to take care of something.  We could see why the sign on the wall we'd been reading was necessary!)

The next step was to give George his eviction notice.  I was to get a laparoscopy, which he started to describe in more detail.  They'd be making an incision in my naval for the camera and surgical equipment.  The cyst and ovary would be removed through the same opening.  A sample would be sent for biopsy immediately.  If it came back negative, they'd remove the cyst and ovary, close me up and send me home within a couple of hours.  If it did turn out to be cancer, they'd make a larger surgical incision to see what they were dealing and remove what had to be removed, which might include the uterus and right ovary as well.  I'd be in the hospital for however long it took, after that.  Sort of a worst case scenario.  Basically, it was what we were expecting to hear.

Then I got another physical exam and pap smear.

*sigh*

Dh just about burst out laughing at my face during the exam.  That and the whole shoulder action from the dr. as he put his weight behind it.  Ugh.  No wonder I always feel bruised afterwards!  He was apparently able to feel George right away, though.  That made him a first!  No other doctor had been able to until then.

I did remember to ask about the other findings of the ultrasound.  The gyno at the emergency had mentioned that my uterine lining was unusually thick.  Considering I was menopausal, they weren't sure if this was normal for me or not.  When I brought it up, the new gyno actually had to go flipping through the pages again to find what I was talking about.  Nothing about the uterus had struck him as unusual.  Which turns out to be a moot point, actually.  Yesterday (4 days after this appointment) I started my cycle - the first in some 8 months.  *sigh*  I was so hoping to finally be done with those! *L*

As we were chatting with the dr, we called the cyst by name.  The dr. got quite the giggle out of it.  It wasn't until later on that I clued in.  The dr's first name is Jorge. 

After the appointment, I had some paperwork to fill out for the hospital.  More background info, allergy info, other health problems, if any, and signing that I'd have everything explained to me and understood it.  I did have to ask what a "vendor representative" was.  The release form stated that, by signing, I was okay to have a vendor representative in surgery with me.  Vendor for what?  I asked at the desk and the receptionist had to go find someone to clarify, so I guess they don't get that question often.  It turns out that, if some new equipment is being used, the maker of the equipment might have someone in the room to make sure the doctors using it didn't have any problems.  It doesn't happen often.

I also asked about the possibility of being able to see George.  All this time, and I had yet to see anything besides a vague dark shadow on an ultrasound monitor I could barely view.  Off the receptionist went again.  When she came back, she explained that, because George out be removed in tiny pieces through a tiny hole, they wouldn't be able to get an actual picture of him, but the nurse promised that they would put the pieces kind of together and get a picture of the bits.  Good enough for me! :-)

Yeah, I know.  It'll be gross.  I'm okay with that.

Which leaves me at where I am now.  Waiting.  I'm to get a phone call from the hospital telling me when my surgery is booked.  I haven't got a call yet, but if it take a while, I'll call the gynecologist's office and see if I can get a bee in someone's bonnet over it.  George has been served his eviction notice, and although he's behaving himself for now, he's not long for this world. ;-)

If, however, he does decide to take my ovary for another dance around my intestines, I'm to go straight to emergency, and George will be removed immediately.

Although I have no restrictions placed against me, I'm being a lot more cautious in my mobility.  So far, I can walk to the library and back without setting George off again (a distance slightly less than the walk I took that triggered all this), though I did find myself slowing down a lot more than usual.  The twisting and bending that I always took for granted will also have to stop.  I'm going to be a lot more sedentary than I like for the next while, which is irritating. 

Not much to complain about, in the grand scheme of things, though.

"Hullo, George."

Continuing my tale...

I was now into the wee hours of the morning.  My pain was under control.  Dh had gone home to the girls, and I was more than ready to try and get some sleep.

Of course, there were a number of interruptions.  Necessary ones, though, so I didn't really mind.

Having been turned over to the emergency gyno team, one of the team members came by to talk to me.  He was actually an intern, working with the doctor heading the team that night.  A very young, very soft spoken man with a gentle voice and mannerism.  He had a whole lot of questions to ask me, and apologized ahead of time for some that would be of a rather intimate nature.  There were the usual questions about my health history; was there any cancer in my family?  Diabetes?  Heart disease?  Did I have any health problems?  Past surgeries? (While it seemed odd to have to tell him about an appendectomy that I had 30 years ago, I did make a point of telling him that the dr had removed a cyst off my right ovary at the same time, just because he happened to be in there to see it, and it was unusually large.)  Had anything like this ever happened to me before?

Then he had to ask the more personal question.  Was there any chance of STDs?  Had I ever been tested?  How often did I have sex, and did I ever feel discomfort/pain/etc. during intercourse?  When was my last menstrual cycle?  Was there any possibility of being pregnant?  He spent a good, long while with me, talking to me as much as asking the questions.  Then he explained that the dr would be coming by later to talk to me and to do a pelvic exam; did I have a problem with that?  Or with both of them having to do an exam?  Blech.  I hate pelvic exams.  Not for any reasons of modesty - I assured him I'd lost those sorts of hang-ups long ago!  They're just really unpleasant.  Under the circumstances, it was rather necessary.  He was quite thorough in explaining everything to me.

I had a chance to doze a bit before I was awakened by an apologetic trio who were loath to interrupt my sleep.  The intern was back with the doctor and a female nurse to be my chaperon.  The doctor was another young guy with a gentle speaking mannerism, though not quite as soft spoken as the intern.  There were more questions and clarifications from the doctor, though it was more a matter of me assuring him I understood what was going on so far, and the possible repercussions.

Then it was exam time.  Blech.

I made sure to go to the bathroom first.

The purpose of the exam was to find the mass and get a handle on where it was, what it felt like and how big it was.  This first involved palpating my abdomen, then fingers reefed around internally while being pressed against from the outside in different areas and asking me if I felt any pain. Aside from being stabbed by fingers, that is.  The intern went first, and he was pretty gentle about it.  Then the dr had his turn.  He was a lot more... thorough.  By the time he was done, I was feeling almost bruised, inside and out!  Going to the bathroom before the exam had been a very good idea. *L*

With all that, neither one of them could feel the mass, though I could pin point to them exactly where I was feeling the pain, even dulled as it was by the drugs.  They talked with me a bit more about the upcoming ultrasound, then they shut off my lights so I could go back to sleep.

Sleep was not yet to come.  Between the walk to the bathroom and the pelvic exam, things started acting up again.  At first, I just ignored it.  It was obviously triggered by walking to the bathroom and the pelvic exam, and I thought it would settle itself outsoon.  Instead, it got worse.   Quickly.

Which left me back to my earlier dilemma.  Do I nip it in the bud before things get too uncomfortable and ask for painkillers, even though it was still quite bearable?  Or do I give it more time and see if it went away on its own?  There had already been a couple of times when it felt like the pain was returning, only to fade away again, but this time was already well past previous levels of discomfort.

In the end, it was the speed at which the pain was increasing that decided it for me.  Within less than 2 minutes after they left, I was calling the nurse back.   On telling her the pain was coming back, she asked me how, on a scale of 1 - 10, would I rate the pain?

I'd been asked that question several times through all this, and I find it one of the most annoying things to answer.  Just how does one determine that?  Pain is such an individual thing.  I've always had an unusually high pain tolerance - one of the side effects of standard pain killers not working well on me.  It makes getting dental work a rather unfortunate experience, among other things.  Pharmaceuticals in general just tended to not work properly with me, though that seems to have improved as I've gotten older.  Then there's my tendency to avoid using painkillers in general, so I've learned to put up with quite a bit of pain.  So my idea of the pain scale was going to be a bit off.  As the pain was increasing so quickly, however, I rated it higher than I normally would have.  As this nurse hadn't treated me yet, I told her what I'd already had over the evening.  At her questioning, I told her that I preferred to stick to the Toradol rather than go back to the morphine, explaining that while I could still feel things going on with the Toradol, I preferred it to feeling nothing at all with the morphine, and fighting the urge to go home.  So off she went to check my chart to and get some Toradol.

She came back empty handed.  It turned out that I was no longer written up for Toradol.  Instead, I was written up for Voltaren.  She explained to me the difference between it and the other meds, and why it was considered preferable.  That it lasted for a full 8 hours being one of them.  Less likely to cause nausea or stomach damage was another.  The problem?

It was a suppository.

Eww.

I was told that I could administer it myself, if I preferred.  No thanks! *L*

Thankfully, it worked rather quickly, and I was soon happily drifting off.

Then my neighbour, B, started up again.

Most of the time, it was the usual stuff, like body noises.  At one point, I could hear someone wheeling around a cart in between sweeping, changing garbage bags, and restocking the rack of things like towels and facecloths, among other things.  That rack happened to be located right next to B's room.  I guess he had his curtain open or something.  He started telling the woman doing her work to go away, come back after he was gone, stop what she was doing.  A nurse came by because of the commotion and tried to tell him the woman was just doing what she was supposed to, and that she couldn't stop doing it just because of him.

Other times, he seemed to be giving his neighbour, the guy with 3-4 broken ribs, a hard time.  There were a few times I heard him pipe up for B to just be quiet!  B didn't appreciate that and would have a little snit.

Still, it wasn't too bad.  I actually did fall asleep for a while.  It wasn't very long, unfortunately, before I started hearing, "Oh!  Oh... yuck!  That's disgusting!"

Instantly, I knew exactly what happened.  The thought just popped right into my head, without any doubt at all.

Sure enough, I soon heard exactly what happened, as did everyone else in the ward.

B had just shit his pants.

I heard him getting out of his bed, making disgusted noises the whole time, and could see his sneakered feet under my curtain as he shuffled across the ward towards the nurses' station.  He then loudly began telling whichever nurse got to him first that he had thought he just needed to fart, but instead he had a squirt.

After a while, the nurse had to tell him he didn't need to be so loud, and remind him that other patients were trying to sleep.

He didn't appreciate that.

He shuffled around, calling out to the nurses, asking if they had any hospital pants he could have.  I could hear someone come back and start changing his bedding, and he somehow thought it necessary to explain to this person what needed to be done.  He shuffled off to the bathroom, then I could see him shuffling back - this time it was bare feet and bare legs I could see under my curtain - still loudly asking for a pair of pants.  They didn't have any, but someone did bring him a pair of disposable underwear.  Then I heard someone saying they'd go to the Social Services desk to find him a pair of pants.

He responded by telling her he needed a 32 inch waist and 32 inch leg.  No thanks of any kind.  Actually, he showed no gratitude at all the entire night, but somehow, the lack of it stood out a lot more this time.

After a while, someone came back with a pair of pants for him in the size he's specified.  He was pretty talkative while trying them on, so it wasn't long before we all knew that they didn't fit and could she get him another pair?

Eventually, he was back in his stretcher, and I dared hope to finally get back to sleep. 

Yeah, I should have known better.  Soon, he started loudly moaning and groaning and calling for the nurse, with everyone being treated to the knowledge that he needed to go to the bathroom and he was afraid he'd shit himself again.  The head nurse finally had had enough.  When she went to help him, she admonished him for being so loud and keeping everybody up.  I must say, she displayed remarkable patience and respect in her tone.  I was impressed by it.  Before we knew it, he was yelling at her and repeatedly called her a bitch.  She promptly went to get security.  He managed to get out of bed and shuffle off to the bathroom again. Security was waiting for him by the time he got back.  The guard tried to talk to him, but B started yelling at the security guard and claiming that the one particular nurse was treating him so badly, and that she'd refused to put down his safety rail, and that she was trying to kick him out of the hospital (what she'd really said was that he was free to go if he didn't want to be there - it seems he didn't actually need to be there, but they were letting him stay to sleep off his high blood alcohol level that he denied having) then he was crying about how awful everything was, and on and on.  Eventually, the guard got him calmed down, but by that point, I was wide awake again. 

With all the stuff I'd been hearing from this guy all night, B was clearly someone who could turn it on and off at will.  A total manipulator, trying to play different staff members off the other.  His lack of success didn't stop him from keeping it up.  Things did quiet down again briefly, but this guy just couldn't go for long without finding something else to whine about.  This time, it was the lights.  He wanted them off.  Not his lights.  The main lights for the ward.  He couldn't sleep with them on - but he didn't want the curtain pulled, either.   After asking several people to turn off the lights and being refused, he tried a different tactic.  While talking to one nurse, he started going on about how the hospital depended on staff like her, that she should be able to do whatever she felt was comfortable, that if she was comfortable working with the main lights off, she should be able to do that, and the hospital wouldn't be able to stop her.  She emphatically told him she wouldn't be comfortable with the lights off, and neither would the 20 other people working in the ward.  That finally got him to shut up about it.  Finally... peace and quiet! Finally, a bit of sleep!

Can you guess what happened next?

Yup.  It was time for my ultrasound.  Someone came to get me just before 7:30 am.  B had managed to keep us all up almost the entire night with his antics.  I got maybe an hour of sleep after he finally quieted down.  Either that or I was so exhausted, I simply slept through anything else.

The timing was perfect, though.  I was just being wheeled away when Dh walked in.  He stayed in my room and got my phone hooked up to charge for me - I had finally turned it off, as it was almost completely drained.  I found out afterwards that he was entertained by B while I was gone.  He was sitting and waiting for me when he could see B going by in a wheelchair, dragging against our curtain in the process again.  He'd started calling out to the nurses for a sandwich.  Most of the daytime shift change had happened, though, so what he got was a bunch of people asking who he was, and why was he there?  A nurse that was still there from the night shift came by asking B why he was still there, as he had been released.  And why was he in a wheelchair instead of walking?  He started claiming that he couldn't walk, and that they couldn't kick him out, and he was taking that wheelchair until his dad came to pick him up (I was surprised by that detail, considering this guy's age) and generally being abusive to the staff.

Emergency room staff deserve medals!

I, however, had other things on my mind.

As I was being wheeled away, I couldn't help but laugh.  Chatting with the nurse pushing me, I pointed out the Xray ("been there already") and the CT scan ("been there, too!").  I was getting to know the bowels of that hospital rather well!  I was left to wait in a stretcher waiting room for a couple of minutes with one other patient.  (After the ultrasound was done, I was left to wait in a different area for a minute or so before being taken by to my room.  There I found my neighbour in the emergency ward; the one with th 5mm kidney stone.  The poor guy looked so worried and scared!  I hope things went well for him.)

The ultrasound tech got me into the room and started the explanation of what was going to be done.  It turned out I was getting two different types of ultrasounds.  There was the type I was already used to, having had a couple of babies.  The other was going to be internal, which was a procedure I hadn't known about.  As she started explaining to me how it worked, she told me, "don't worry about the size when you see it.  Most of that is handle."

Uh huh.  That didn't make me feel any better!  The darn thing looked like a futuristic dildo.  I was getting more action in one night than I've seen in a long time!  Too bad none of it was any fun. :-P

She started me on the jelly belly ultrasound first.  Unfortunately, the screen was angled in such a way that I couldn't see it.  She did her thing around the area in question, but didn't seem too happy with the images she was getting.  She got quite a series of images, though, taking plenty of extras.  She could quite clearly see the dark mass in question.  I asked her some questions and, while making sure I knew this was her unqualified observation, as it would be up to the specialists to interpret what was there, she said she thought it looked like it was full of liquid.  Which was about what I expected, since I felt it was most likely to be a cyst.

Then it was time to do the internal.

After my experience with the pelvic exam, I asked to go to the bathroom first.  I didn't need to, but I figured better safe than sorry!

While I was away, she set up the stretcher for me. This involved a triangle shaped pillow with a section removed at the top.  I was to lie with my hips at the top, so that my butt was at the cut out section.  This was to prevent the bed from being in the way of the ultrasound wand. 

Not the most comfortable of positions.

After a bit of privacy to strip down even more than I already was, get on the triangle pillow and cover up with a paper blanket, the tech got me to reach around and insert the idiot thing myself.  It made things easier for the patients that way, apparently.  I'll take her word for it, since reaching around with my hips up in the air like that wasn't the easiest thing.  It did allow her to do what she needed to do without ever having to look under the paper blanket, and I guess that's something a lot of patients would be more comfortable with.

Then she started reefing it.

To think I thought the dr's very thorough pelvic exam on me had been a bit much!  She was yanking that thing in directions I didn't realize I could bend in down there!  She wasn't just trying to get the affected area.  She was trying to get a series of images of the entire area from right to left. 

She had troubles finding my right ovary.  I'm not entirely sure she ever did.

And yeah, I was very glad to have gone to the bathroom first!  She was pressing that thing against some very sensitive areas.  It brought back memories of having a baby stomping on my bladder while pregnant.

She was not happy with the images, though, so she left to get someone with more experience than herself - leaving the wand dangling out of me.  Ew.  The specialist came in and tried to get the images, but wasn't satisfied with what she was seeing, either.  They did take images, but she decided to try again with the jelly belly method.  Ah, well.  So much for my getting all cleaned up from that the first time.  It meant they had to get the triangle pillow out from under me, though, and that got a touch awkward.  There's just not a lot of maneuvering room on a stretcher.  It was worth it, though, as the specialist got a series of images that they were much happier with.  Then after she left, the tech took a few more, just to make sure they had a lot of decent quality shots. With the shifting around, I could just sort of see the screen at an angle, but not well enough to make anything out, though I could see the dark mass they were talking about.  I think.

After giving me some privacy to clean up and get semi-dressed again, it was back to my room in emergency to wait for the results.  Dh was waiting for me and we filled each other in with news. I regaled him with what a lovely night we all had thanks to B, and how glad I was to see that bed empty as I was being wheeled back, he told me about B's attempt to not leave, after all. 

I still hadn't eaten anything since late in the previous afternoon, and hadn't had anything to drink since before the CT scan, so I was absolutely famished and thirsty.  Dh went to ask if I could finally eat something, but once again I was told no.  The reason this time was the possibility of going into surgery after they got a look at the ultrasounds. 

Once again, we waited.

It was a surprisingly short wait, all things considered.  The doctor came by to explain what they could see - which still wasn't much.  They could now say it was attached to my left ovary.  They could also tell me that it measured 13 x 11 cm.  That's about 5 1/2 x 4 1/2 inches.  Definitely something with some heft to it!

They still couldn't determine if it was cancer or not from just the ultrasound.  For that, they would need to take more blood and test for specific markers.

So much for the 7 vials I had taken when I first arrived having "extras" they could use!

He asked if we had any questions, but we didn't have many.  There's only so many things it could be, and we were aware of what sort of treatment might be likely.  I did have one main question, though.

Would I finally be able to eat and drink?

Nope.  There was still a possibility I'd be going into surgery.  They needed to spend more time going over my details to decide.

*sigh*

A few minutes after the doctor left, a nurse came by and took another 4 vials of blood from my other elbow for the tests.  After she was gone, we had nothing to do but wait.

And wait.

With time on our hands, we discussed the thing that was found.  Not knowing if it was a cyst or a tumour, we didn't know what to call it.

I decided to call it George. 

Dh thinks I'm silly. ;-)

With the possibility of surgery now in the air, we talked about one problem I was having that I was now seriously considering getting fixed.  The IV in my right elbow was an issue.  Though I had some movement in my arm, it was severely limited.  I couldn't put my glasses on properly, for example, leaving me with one handle resting crooked on my head, making it not only uncomfortable, but affecting my vision.  (For the folks who don't wear glasses: If the lenses are not positioned properly on your face, it distorts the vision.  Depending on one's prescription, this can lead to headaches, dizziness and nausea.  It also can affect depth perception.  Not pleasant.)  I also couldn't put my hair back up into its clip, so it was constantly getting in my way.  Dh had brought my project bag so I could crochet while I waited, but there was no way I could manipulate a hook.  Even holding the book he also brought me was more difficult than it needed to me.

Dh went to ask a nurse to come by about the possibility of moving the IV.  When a nurse came by shortly after, I explained what I wanted done and why as he looked at the veins in my arm.  He suggested that I would still have the same problem if it was in my hand, as my ability to bend my wrist would be affected by the needle.  He thought it might be worth moving the IV to the underside of my arm, instead.  This area has almost no movement to affect the IV, and it could be taped down quite securely.  He offered to give it a try and, if it didn't work, he could still move it to my hand.

I decided to give it a try.

It didn't work.

After inserting the IV needle, he injected a bit of saline solution, as is usually done, but instead of going into the vein, he could see it was going into the arm. He took it back out and bandaged the area for me while we discussed trying on the hand.  In the end, I decided against it.  Getting yet another poke (I was up to three) and still not being able to use that hand didn't make much sense, so he left it at that.

Shortly after, a different nurse came by saying, "so, someone wants their IV moved?"  She didn't know someone had already been to see me about it.  We told her what was done and why I'd changed my mind.  She took a look at the back of my hand, declared I had excellent veins, and assured us that she could place the IV so that I would have full use of my wrist.  With that, I told her to go ahead and do it.  It worked just fine, and she was able to tape the tubing down out of the way, too.  What a relief!  As soon as she was done (and the bleeding was stopped in both the old IV location and the attempt made just before she came in), I immediately put on my glasses properly and put up my hair.

What a relief!! 

It's the little things that make me happy. :-D

We were left to our own devices again for a while, passing on information to various family members and letting them know about the possible surgery.  After a while, a new doctor came in.  She was the day shift doctor for the gynecological team and had just finished going over my file.  As she started talking about the object, we told her we named it George.  She got a good laugh out of it and referred to it as George from then on.  She then told me that some of the new blood tests ordered could take a few days, and that she was recommending I not go for surgery until we got the results back.  She asked how I was feeling, and I told her I was feeling great, but I wasn't quite sure if it was because I was actually feeling normal again, or if the drug hadn't worn off yet.  She told me that if I did end up going home, they'd make sure I had more of the Voltaren prescribed to me to use as I saw fit - I no longer had any restrictions on the type of painkillers I could use to treat my pain, now that we had a better idea as to the cause.

Which lead me to ask - at 13x11cm, clearly George has been with me for a while.  Why would it start causing me problems all of a sudden like that?  She wasn't able to give me the exact reason, of course, but the most likely reason was that George got twisted around while I was walking Youngest to her guitar lesson.  In doing so, it would have wrenched my ovary and cut off blood supply, which would be extremely painful.

Uhm.  Yeah. It was!

As soon as she told me that, though, I suddenly started remembering things.  When Eldest and I started going for our mall walks last winter, there would be the odd time when I would feel what I thought was a muscle being pulled in my abdomen.  The location of that pain, minor as it was, was exactly where George was found.  Then I began remembering other times when I'd been walking, whether it was to the library, while running errands, or just for an outing, I would feel discomfort in the area.  It had never been of much concern to me, as the pain was brief, relatively mild, and didn't happen all that often.  Except that in the last while, it was happening a bit more often - and sometimes even when I hadn't been doing any walking at all, but just being actively moving around.

Now that George was getting bigger, he was taking my ovary out dancing.

In mentioning that I might not be going for surgery that day after all, I was quick to ask her if it meant I could finally eat!  Yeah, I had food on the mind a lot by that point, I was so hungry.  After explaining how long it had been since I'd had anything to eat or drink, she left to talk to the rest of the team and get a decision for me.  It was only a few minutes before she was back to verify that I would be going home!  I only had to wait for the nurses to come and remove the IV (the one I had just had moved to my hand! *L*) and take care of a few other little details, and I was free to go.

Yes!!

Dh immediately went to the nurses station to ask if I could get something to eat.  At first he was told no because of the possibility of surgery, as they hadn't been updated yet, so he told her I was now slated to go home.  With that being the case, she said, I could indeed eat again! 

Not at the hospital, though.  Within minutes, I had a nurse back with me, removing my IV and giving me a prescription for the Voltaren.  In no time at all, I was getting changed and packing up.

It was time to introduce George to the girls.  *L*



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