Everything sounded good, I had made a 3 page list front and back of all the foods that sounded good to eat that ranged from home cooked dishes to canned spaghetti. I didn't care what I had, when you'd knock down every body in the hospital to eat their cuisine. SOMETHING has got be very wrong. I wanted food so bad, I begged people to give me A Cracker. I even asked for A grain of rice. I would just cry because I wanted food. Those television commercials never cease to pop up every 20 seconds. I started watching the TV on mute and keeping my door shut. I could smell it, always! I was convinced the elevators smelt like spaghetti and garlic bread(having gone back there for check ups, this was no accurate description by any stretch of the imagination).
I had spent 11 days and nothing had resolved, the plan soon became it was time for me to go into another surgery. The reason being, the emergency surgery had created scar tissue that formed around my bowels being the cause of my unexplainable pain. However; it was not just as simple as performing another surgery. My scar still was just barely healing. I looked as if to be 5 months pregnant because my organs were so swollen. In fact it would be catastrophic for my bowels if they went in too soon without allowing the alloted time to healing. What would happen is what they call fish netting(a process where the bowels become the texture of over chewed gum and would string apart and that part of the bowel would die and have to be cut). I had to HAD to wait the rest of my healing time which was another 4 weeks, and then was to expect another open surgery. I couldn't fathom them reopening my stomach, I couldn't stand the constant touch of my shirt being on my incision. To have them completely reopen?? It shot me in the heart every time they so loosely threw that word around surgery. They would reiterate to me daily they would "cross that bridge when they got to it".
They wanted to try and get me on pills so they could get me home. This did not excite me one bit because every time they would try and get me on oral pain meds it wasn't 2 days and I was right back in the hospital, but again I did it. I wanted to be home. My bed, my car, my bed, my bed, and my bed. Wait, these were the docs that told me I had ulcers, the ulcers I didn't have. The pain they considered to be indigestion. Why are they pushing me out? I'm not healed! I can't eat! I need to stay doesn't anyone else see this?
I had no other choice, I had to try. They even allowed me some food to go with the pills. I saw you're drop. You heard me, food. Finally mashed potatoes and a pill? I couldn't grab my swine flu sticky infested room service phone fast enough. Can I tip you to bring it within the next 10 minutes?(that wasn't an option)
I cried while eating the first bite of my mashed potatoes. I mentioned it on Facebook and explained how sweet it was to taste such a magnificent creation. The pill went down the hatch, and I had made an executive decision to go ahead and wash the pill down with a sugar saturated piece of angel food cake and vanilla ice cream. A partial bowel obstruction is not fond of any morsel of food. It wasn't 30 minutes after my meal and pill I was sitting half on the bed and half off. Hunched over grabbing at the nurses scrubs squeezing her arms and hands begging her to help me. I didn't care what she had to do I just wanted her to fix it. They were so frightened by my aggressive and unruly behavior they sent in a portable xray machine and took 3 xrays and sent them to my docs and the look on their face when they came in was of pure terror.
They showed me my films and my intestines had expanded so much they were so concerned that my intestines were going to explode. That's a real thing?! What?! Oh yes a very real thing, they once again put me back on NPO and kept the PICC line in and kept me for another week.
Still, to this day I don't regret a single tear soaked bite I ate....
This still, was far from over.
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