Wow, it’s been an incredible two weeks.
I remained hospitalized 5 days after my surgery with my Hbc blood counts teetering on the low end. I guess the doctor wanted to keep me to make sure that I’d start going up on my own, and I did.
So, I get home and I’m feeling pretty good. I’m finding myself tolerating pretty well. My pain was tolerable, again, most of the pain was in my lower back.
I felt good enough to walk 1/8 mile to the park and then proceed another 1/8 mile to the corner store with my grand kids. And then repeat the walk back.
I didn’t have any problem walking around Walmart letting my granddaughter try on gymnastic outfits.
It felt good to get out in the sun and take a short walk at the beach and sit down and relax for a few minutes.
And I was feeling great having left the hospital at 268# and getting up this morning to put on my bathing suit, on postop day #8, at a number I hadn’t seen for a decade 240!
Postop day #9, I woke up even more jazzed to see the scale showing me at 238!! And that, my friends, is where the rest of the day is a blur. I remember getting up from a nap and feeling like I’d been dropped from the roof, confused and overall not well.
My daughter took me to the emergency room where I remember the doctor asking me questions, but I don’t know what happened after that I was in a cubby in the ER – for 2 days!!!
I remember one point hearing the nurse telling Erica I had a temperature of 103, and she repeated that to the doctor, who responded, “You mean 100.3, only children have high temperatures like that.” And then I was given bags and bags of fluids. Asked to drink about 20 oz of whatever for a CT scan. Mind you, it takes me about 15 minutes to drink 2 oz. when I’m feeling great.
Forgot to mention that my granddaughter smashed her finger in the storm door, breaking her nail, the previous afternoon. She was crying and scared to go to urgent care. Erica couldn’t pick her up, but I’m not going to let my sweet little baby suffer and be scared, be damned not lifting anything over 20#, and I picked her 70# up and carried her down the stairs and helped her into the truck. Thus, CT to check if I split my gut open. Nope, everything was intact.
I finally get into a room around 3:30 Tuesday morning where the nurse starts asking me about previous hospitalizations and she mentions that I was hospitalized for “end stage renal failure”!? I protested that I’ve never had any organ failures, and I was corrected that as of the previous night, I was hospitalized for end stage renal failure, along with urinary tract infection, dehydration, low blood pressure and blood count, oh yea, and pneumonia.
It took a couple of days to find out that the “end stage renal failure” was code for severe dehydration! Well, why don’t they just say that? Geez.
About 24 hours into my stay in the ER I’m weighed in at 160#! Seriously? The hospital loads me up with fluid that turns into rocks once it hits my system. So now I’ve gained about.
I spent my 5 days in the hospital feeling uncomfortable and restless. I felt ok on discharge. My main complaint is weakness. I certainly don’t feel like going to the beach and walking to the kitchen is a major accomplishment for me. However, I’m down to 148# on day 14.