Medically speaking, 2011 hasn't been a lot of fun for Rose. That's not to say that it hasn't all turned out fabulous. As of today, I've lost 112 pounds and other than a lovely scar and almost NO memories from Scotland, I can't complain about the appendectomy either.
Wednesday, October 25th, was the official 6 month anniversary for my gastric surgery. Post-op, I was given a prescription for Prilosec to reduce the production of acid in the stomach and thereby reduce the risk of ulcers. I was told to take it for six months.... October 25th was six months... ergo, when the prescription ran out on Saturday the 29th, I took the last pill and said adios to the Prilosec!
Sunday, I made chili and had some for dinner. Monday, I had chili for lunch. Not mine, but some Buffalo Wing Chili which was super spicy. For dinner, I don't recall what I had, but for Tuesday breakfast, I had the rest of the Buffalo Wing Chili that Deborah graciously let me make off with. Lunch was... I don't know, but for dinner, Mom made spanish rice which, while not as spicy as I would have made it, did have a tomato base. I had leftovers for breakfast and lunch on Wednesday. For dinner, Mom made spaghetti. Again, not overly spicy, but tomato-y.
Thursday morning, I awoke at my usual 5:30 am. I didn't want to get up. In fact I laid there for a couple of minutes weighing the pros/cons of calling in for a mental health day and decided that it would only make going in on Friday almost impossible, thereby requiring two mental health days and I didn't think I needed that. I got up. The muscle in my upper left arm ached, like I'd had a shot in it. I thought maybe I'd slept wrong on it. I ambled into the kitchen to make my protein shake, I noticed that it was pouring outside and quietly said a prayer of thanks because obviously God knew that I didn't want to go out for a walk and provided accordingly. I also noticed that my tum wasn't feeling all that great, but... I took my shake to my room, sat at my computer and started to farm while slurping it down.
About 20 minutes into the shake, and I hadn't drunk but about 1/3 of the 16oz shake, I started having pains and it hurt to breathe. I got up to try to "walk it off", but that didn't work and I realized that I needed help. I hobbled into Mom's room and woke her up from a complete sleep (slacker), told her she needed to take me to the ER and I walked to my bathroom to put on my sweatpants... a total of 40 feet? During that incredibly long trip, I started hearing the blood rush in my head and all sound started coming from far away thru a tunnel. I knew I was going to pass out. Thank God that I got my sweatpants and was able to collapse onto my bed. I didn't pass out. Mom got the elevator, I got in, knowing that it's the world's slowest elevator, and when I started feeling woozy, slid to the floor, so I ended up crawling to the car.
Mom drove my car to the ER. Now, anyone who really knows me knows that NO ONE drives my car unless I'm dead or dying, so that alone should speak volumes.
At the ER, my insurance paid for an EKG, blood tests, a chest x-ray, and a CT scan (my fourth one this year - I should be due a free one soon, I think). The end result was that although I was having pain when I breathe and couldn't breathe deeply, they had ruled out anything life-threatening and were sending me home. WTF!? I should rest and follow up with my doctor. Sigh.
On the way home, I called my doctor who, as I already knew but hoped I was wrong about, doesn't work on Thursdays. After arguing with the telephone nurse that this wasn't acid reflux because I've HAD acid reflux, I was told I could either see my doctor, the best in the world, at 9:30 on Friday morning or come in and see Dr. Conway at 11:45 (a couple of hours away). I decided to wait for my doctor.
Mom got me home and up the elevator without incident or gravity taking over. I slipped off the sweatpants and, having wore my Snoopy nightshirt to the ER, I was ready to crawl back in bed. The tech had told me to drink lots of fluids in order to flush the CT scan dye from my system, so I asked Mom to get me some juice. She wanted to get me water, but I wanted juice, so I whined and she brought me juice. In retrospect, I would argue that although this whining is/was not a mature thing, it was beneficial as it brought us to an answer sooner rather than later... so don't judge!
Since you've already read the background, I'm sure you can guess that, yes, the juice caused more pain. We called the doctor's office back and got that 11:45 appt with Dr. Conway. An interesting man, he was my father's general doctor... yeah. Anyway, after listening to all of my back story about surgeries, health conditions, current meds (including the fact that I'd stopped taking the Prilosec almost a week before, he gave me some Mylanta to see if it helped. I can't say that it HELPED!!, but it did make me feel somewhat better. We decided that the stopping of the Prilosec, combined with the almost full meals of spicy acidic food for a week, had caused some damaged. I needed to resume the Prilosec to get back to the acid reduction, take Mylanta to help heal the damage, and resume my Carafate (this pink liquidy stuff I had to have an hour before meals and at bedtime for the first two months post-op - it creates a protective liner on the stomach wall to prevent further damage and help aid healing.)
As I'm typing this, it is Sunday evening. I've been taking the medicine, eating only bland foods, and resting/sleeping a lot. Oh, I forgot to mention the Lortab the doctor gave me for the pain! :) I'm not 100% back to the Rosemary version of normal, but I do feel much better. I will admit that this afternoon, after Mom left to go somewhere, I got me a glass of juice and, even though I watered it down, it make my tum hurt, so I'm drinking water. It still hurts to take deep breaths, to yawn (damn, why is it even typing that word makes me do it?), etc., but I do think we're on the road to recovery. If not, I'll call and go see MY doctor!! The bestest doctor in the whole-wide-world!... but obviously not on a Thursday!
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