When we last talked to Laurie, she had just undergone weight loss surgery. Now, let’s see what her recovery was like. Next week, we’ll check in with Laurie to see how she’s doing more than a month post-op. To catch up on Laurie’s story, click the Personal Journeys link on the left-hand side of the page, under Categories.
Part 8: Recovery
I know I must have been in post-op for a while, but I honestly don’t remember any of that. All I remember was waking up with the driest mouth I have ever had, ever. Seriously, I had absolutely zero saliva – in my mouth, in my throat… it was all gone. This is a perfectly normal side-effect of the anesthesia, but normally they just give you a glass of water or ginger ale and call it a day. Ohhh… not this time. Due to the nature of the surgery, I couldn’t have ANYTHING. Not even ice chips. So they brought in those lousy little foam sticks soaking in some water, and all I could do was use them to wet my lips and tongue. My husband says he remembers me smacking my lips and mouth like a dying fish…charming, huh?!?!
The first day of recovery was… I won’t lie to you, it was one of the worst days I’d had in a while. I’ve had some tough recoveries before, but this was miserable. The anesthesia made me nauseous, even with the anti-nausea patch I had requested (I know I don’t react well to drugs post-op), so I spent the first day sleeping heavily, then waking up to a distinctly pukey feeling that wouldn’t go away. The only solution to this, of course, is to just keep pumping me full of drugs, so it was just a constant stream of pain meds (I was more than a little sore) anti-nausea meds, antibiotics, and whatever else they had lying around. I’m pretty sure they used me to get rid of some meds they found in the back storeroom that were about to expire.
Day two was the first day I was able to drink. They gave me one of those little blue plastic pitchers full of ice water. You know the ones… they’re in all hospitals, and they’re guaranteed to spill all over the place if you tip them forward too far? Yeah, one of those. So I kept trying to take sips, but the one thing I thought would be my salvation was hurting me so badly I couldn’t bear to take any more than, say, one sip every hour. I was very nervous. I had heard all these horror stories about the possible complications post-surgery with this type of procedure, and all I could imagine was every sip I took finding a little hole in my stomach that they missed when stapling me up, and leaking into my insides.
But there was nothing to worry about. The staples were secure – it was just my new stomach adjusting to this strange, cold stuff I was forcing into it. Dr. Schnelldorfer came to see me that day, and told me that my stomach might not like cold liquids, and that warm was probably better right now. When the orderly came the next day to bring me my first bowl of warm broth, I could tell instantly that the doctor was right. The warm broth felt awesome… so much better than ice water!
Getting that first bowl of broth down was really tough, though. First of all, it was as if I had had all my taste buds removed. The broth was bland, almost completely devoid of taste, and it was a struggle to get through even the little I could tolerate. But I got in as much as I could (about an ounce) then put it aside. The nausea was improving at that point, and they were already starting to taper me off all the meds. So that, combined with my first “meal,” was helping me make vast improvements very quickly.
By the third day in the hospital, I was able to get through most of the broth (which, after the first day, tasted AWESOME) and even a little sugar-free pudding. I was tolerating water much better – that was actually the thing that got me out as quickly as I did. The nurse had told me that they couldn’t unplug the IV until I could take so much water in a day, so I really started to make an effort. I was bored to death at that point – a good sign that I was ready to go home – but I have to say… I was really scared. The hospital was a safe, regulated environment. They brought me what I could have, when I could have it. No thought involved, no fear that I was going to ruin anything, or do anything wrong, or eat the wrong thing, or whatever.
Going home meant all the responsibility now was on my shoulders. I had to think about getting all my protein in (64g per day) and all my water in (60 oz per day). I had to take all my pills at the right time, and time my meals between drinking water (no food for a half hour after drinking, no water for an hour after a meal). It was a lot to think about, and I had the burden of THE REST OF MY LIFE looming over my head. So I was very anxious to leave the hospital. If not for the thought of going home to my kiddo… well, maybe I might have stretched out my stay a bit longer. But I wanted to see him, and I needed him to see me to know Mummy was ok. So… I got the ok from the surgeon to go home, and away we went!
As a side note – the surgeon said all along (post-op) that he was very pleased with how things went. He was able to get me in early, and the procedure only took about an hour and a half (we were expecting twice that!). That’s what happens when a German does your surgery!
I can’t say enough good things about the doctors and nurses at Lahey Burlington. Everyone was genuinely sweet and caring, and there wasn’t a time when I didn’t feel like I was in good hands. I enjoyed the company of every one of the seven hundred nurses I saw over the course of three days, and I thank each and every one of them for making me feel at ease and well cared for.
Except for the nurse who kept giving me Heparin* shots. I cursed your very existence every second of every day. ; )
*anti-blood clotting injections – every six hours, for three days. In my thighs.
If you have a story you’d like to share with us, email me at bigfitdeal@gmail.com
