Back to work

After getting the OK from the doctor at my visit yesterday, I returned to work today. Well, for a half-day at least.

"Most people don't go back to work for at least six weeks," the doctor said. "I could write you a note if you want to, you know."

I declined.
"I feel ready," I said.

Since there was no pain when he pushed on my abdomen - inside or out - he agreed I might be healing a bit faster than he expected.
"The incision looks very good, very good indeed," he said, admiring the lower part of my belly.

I haven't taken any painkillers since last Wednesday, which was also a good thing, he said. (But yes, I still have some strong ibuprofen that I may need after a few days at the office).

It felt like I got so much accomplished today. I was up early, showered without pain and extreme tiredness, stopped by the post office and then hit the highway to work. The Arts & Entertainment section took me a bit longer than expected - four hours instead of two - but at least an hour was taken up with "how are you? how's your belly? how does it feel? You look so great!" chat.

And now I'll do it again tomorrow. On Thursday, I may even be up to working 6 hours. Imagine that. By next week I'm expecting 8 hours a day, and the week after that I may resume my regular 12-hour schedule.

Overdoing it

Over the weekend, I think I overdid it a bit.

By the end of last week, I was really bored and just wanted to get out of the house. Plus, my friends had a really fun day planned for Saturday, involving a visit to a bridal shop in Fairfield so I could see my friend try on her wedding dress and a visit to Middletown, to see another friend's new house.

Well, we added lunch and bridesmaid's dress shopping. Then we had an evening of pizza, Wii karaoke and board games. On Sunday, the weather was beautiful, so I drove up to Canaan to see another friend. There, I bought some yummies that I later made into dinner and dessert.

By Monday, I was exhausted. I really wanted to see the new Harry Potter movie. A friend and I had scheduled a date for Tuesday, but she asked if I didn't want to see it a day early. Of course I would! So I dragged Albie along to the mall in Milford. But before that, we stopped by his parents' house to see a captured kitten and then went out for sushi.

Needless to say... it was a loooong three days. And I paid for it. By Tuesday, I could barely get out of bed. I stayed in my PJs all day, didn't take a shower, and split my time between Facebook farming and HGTV.

Today was a bit better, although I didn't get out of my PJs until about 5 p.m., when Albie's mom came to take me out to dinner. Now I'm pondering if I'm really ready to go back to work on Tuesday... I think not.

Progress

Drove myself to the gym today, where I walked on the treadmill at 1 mile per hour - the slowest speed - for 10 minutes.

While I still look like a pregnant woman, or one that has just given birth, it makes me feel better to do something, even if it is trudging along holding my stomach tight with one hand.

I also visited the farm since the weather is gorgeous. There, I made the mistake of going into a dusty room. I had to flee quickly down some stairs and to my waiting water glass, but was still really near a cough attack. I barely made it home, where I am now resting and not planning on anything else more exciting than to finish my book, grabbing some dinner from the fridge and watching several episodes of "CSI."

Trying hard not to cough

I've been trying very hard not to cough this past week. Three times, it slipped out anyway (yeah, that's about every other day). Two of those times were today. Good thing today was a good day.

They say holding a hard pillow against your stomach will help support your scarred area and will reduce pain. I've seen nothing to support that theory. Tried it in the hospital - never worked.

The first time at home I couldn't stop myself from coughing - and believe me, after you cough once you'd do anything to never have to do it again - it felt like knives tearing at my stomach from the inside, slowly ripping up the stitches, one by one. The second time was about as bad, but since I didn't have time to grab a pillow (I was in the bathroom), the knives were tearing from side to side making me almost pass out.

After each time, I'd check the stiches - still there. Everything was fine.

I coughed for the first time just a few minutes ago, resulting in a loud scream and severe pain. This time, I had been pushing my over-expanded belly inward extra hard for super support, but I ended up crouched over as it felt like a giant fist was punching me from the inside of my uterus and made a huge whole on the right side of my belly. Everying got hot - was that blood streaming down my legs? No. Again, nothing was wrong with my scar. It just felt like the fist was grinding away at it from inside for about 10 minutes.

The ice pack Albie came rushing upstairs with helped a bit. I still have to wait another two hours to take another painkiller. By then, it will be time for bed, and time for a new, wonderful day tomorrow.

One thing is for sure. I am never ever going to cough again.

From my fan club

The visits begin

"You didn't even throw up? I hate you!" a friend who came for a visit today exclaimed as she heard the whole surgery story. She's had four surgeries - two were similar to mine.

I know she doesn't really hate me, of course, since she came to see me despite her busy schedule - and on a holiday. She even brought me flowers from her mother's farm.

It's actually kind of good to hear now about all the things I should have been doing or should have been feeling. It makes me feel like this was a piece of cake. Of course, had someone asked me a day or two ago, I wouldn't have said that. But every day it gets a bit easier.

I had a lot of help to prepare for the surgery too. Many friends and co-workers who have had similar things done helped me prepare for the process - step by step. They told me it was a good idea to lose some weight and tone up my stomach muscles. They told me to stock up on prune juice, smoothies and pudding.

"Eat when they tell you to, because you'll get to go home sooner," one friend advised about the hospital stay. "You're not gonna feel like it - but just do it."

Another friend, who has had nine surgeries, said the key is to get out of bed and move around as soon as you are able to. "Hang on to the IV if you must, but just take a slow walk down the hallway," she said.

I thank all my friends for helpful advice and suggestions. I think it worked. I am out of bed, I am home, I am walking, eating and sleeping. Life's off to a great start!

A Twitter compilation

It was pretty easy for me to tweet about the whole hospital experience. I kept my cell phone by my side the whole time - except for the actual surgery and the boring three hours in recovery (although I snuck in a tweet when Albie stopped by to visit). Each time I had something to say, I just typed up a quick text message and it popped right up on my account for my "followers" to read.

Of course, I never had a chance to actually GO to the Twitter page to read my own tweets and others' since it was blocked by the hospital (as was Facebook and Victoria's Secret). When I got home I did, however, and I realized how much I had actually written. For those of you who don't tweet, here's a compilation of my detailed accounts from the surgery (with some spelling corrections):

July 1, 5:11 a.m.
ready to head to the hospital.

July 1, 8:19 a.m.
Nurses cant find veins for IV.

July 1, 1:19 p.m.
awake now.

July 1, 4:02 p.m.
Finally in my room after hours of waiting. No nausea. Just thirst. Want to go home!

July 1, 4:21 p.m.
Stupid hospital has blocked Facebook.

July 1, 7:12 p.m.
Alright. I'm bored. Can I go home yet??? I feel fine. Just don't like hospitals.

July 1, 10:04 p.m.
Just getting 2 sleep... nurse comes to check vitals. fall back asleep... IV starts beeping.

July 2, 12:19 a.m.
I wish the nurses would stop waking me up and just leave me alone!!!

July 2, 3:58 a.m.
How many times can they check my stomach - really?

July 2, 5:45 a.m.
Time for more morphine...

July 2, 7:01 a.m.
"Time for morning prayer"

July 2, 7:32 a.m.
Why do nurses insist on putting everything out of reach? Are they TRYING to be mean?
(A friend responded: "yes. it's in the job description.")

July 2, 7:54 a.m.
I've been given the OK to go home this afternoon. Yay!

July 2, 8:16 a.m.
Just took a wobbly walk in the hallway, hanging on to the IV.

July 2, 12:22 p.m.
I'm showered and ready 2 go home - just waiting 4 official discharge signature.

July 2, 3:35 p.m.
Home sweet home.

July 3, 5 a.m.
OK, time 4 a Percoset and chocolate pudding.

July 3, 12:30 p.m.
V. wishes she had the ipod, but her husband stole it back

July 3, 1:30 p.m.
OK, I'm bored. I can't lie down, cause then I can't get up. I can't sit, because then I'm uncomfortable. I can't walk; it takes forever.

July 4, 2 a.m.
V. took a shower all by herself and feels accomplished.

Feeling accomplished

It's amazing how something so simple as taking a shower can make you feel so accomplished. "I did it, I did it!" I yelled (softly, because I am still pretty weak) to my husband as I was toweling myself off.

Oh, how nice to finally wash my hair properly. Of course, the sticky gray glue still won't come off the millions of places on my body where I find it. Some places are too close to my scar to even try, but others - like my arms - I was able to scrub off.

I can't wait for the next day, and the one after that, to see how much better I will feel. It's all downhill from here!

What I hate the most

Not being able to get comfortable - in any position (sitting, walking, being in bed)

Stomach not able to catch up to things

Trying to sit down/stand up. My back, arms, legs are finally starting to suffer from having to carry all the weight my abdominal muscles cannot bear.

Feeling like crap as soon as I try to move. Painkillers were better at the hospital

Being bored. How many YouTube videos can you possibly watch in one day?

All well - recovering at home

Prior to the surgery in the pre-op area - the worst part. This is where you wait for hours and the doctors and nurses all come to visit you and make you answer a bunch of questions over and over again. This is also where they try to insert your IV and they draw your blood (again) - that is, of course, if they can find any veins. I don't have any. They had to bruise up my left hand pretty bad before they got it working, because the veins in my arms all went into hiding.



This is what I had for breakfast/lunch today. Mostly, I just sipped the Ginger Ale and ate some ice cream and Italian ice since I was too nauseated from my walk in the hallway to look at any of the other stuff. Plus, I had already had the pudding and the Jell-O twice, and they were both way too sweet.



The IV stand with my pain-reliever pump - they disconnected the pain pump early in the morning, but the IV stayed on until about half an hour before I was leaving, when I forced them to rip the needle out of my hand so it could start to recover.

My IV, beautiful bracelet and a cup of ice - my best friend. Despite me not being nauseated at all, they refused to let me drink water for several hours. Instead, I had to lie in recovery for three hours listening to the mentally challenged woman next to me throw up several times. There had been some mix-up with the rooms. And the people across the hall, who were visiting someone with an infection, kept staring at me. It wasn't pretty.

The worst part was trying to get some sleep. Once I got to my room and drank two pitchers of water, the nurses were running in and out all evening and all night, constantly checking my temperature, my lungs and my blood pressure. As soon as I would be asleep, someone else would come knocking on the door, turn the lights up and come up with a reason to disturb me. Thank god I got to go home today.

The only thing I miss is the handles on the bed - they made it a bit easier to get up. If I lie down at home, I'll be there for hours. Which is where I'm gonna go next.

12 hours away

Alright, so in about 12 hours from now, we'll be leaving for the hospital. Albie's mom, Sue, is insisting on comming as well, which will probably be a good thing for Albie. I don't know how he would handle sitting in a waiting room by himself for several hours (although he did mention taking a nap).

I am thinking about tomorrow afternoon when I will - hopefully - be awake again and everything will be behind me. Today, I'm just trying to stay busy for the last few hours here - watching moves, cleaning the bathroom, organizing the utensil drawer, making smoothies... I even made myself a sandwich for the day I get home, should I feel like eating something (I can't really count on Albie's culinary skills, but they may improve over the next month!).

Wish me luck! The next time you hear from me, this will all be over. The optimism will be gone and I will be blogging about pain and suffering instead.

In a few days

In just a few days, the surgery will be behind me and I will be back at home. I am trying to stay positive, and I'm trying to think ahead to avoid thinking about the actual surgery.

I really don't want to think about them inserting a cathether or pushing hard on my belly to find out exactly where to make the incision. I also don't want to think about the hours where I'll be waking up - freaking out, no doubt - in a hospital bed feeling nauseated and crappy.

So I think past that - to the days of joy when I get to go home, trying to make it up the dozens of stairs to my bedroom, and then relaxing in front of some CSI. And I'm gonna eat whatever crap I can that will make me feel better - chips, ice cream, cookies... you name it!

When rumors spread

Three people came up to me yesterday at work, saying "why are you here? Aren't you supposed to be in Sweden?"

"Huh?" I said to the first one, and just shook it off.
"Where did you hear that?" I asked the second one without a good response.
"What the heck is going on?" I said after the third person's comments.

Apparently, my boss has told people I will be away for a "vacation." He didn't feel it appropriate, he said, to inform them about my medical issues. Which would be all nice and well, if it wasn't for the fact that I have told half the newsroom, and I'm even tweeting, Facebooking and blogging about it. It's not a secret.

"Did you tell them I'm going to Sweden?" I asked.
"Of course not. They probably just assume. You being Swedish an all."

I tried to correct a few of them. "It's not until next week," I'd say. I even told some people it won't be a vacation at all, because I'm having surgery. But it was tiring. There were so many of them that were misinformed.

Later in the day, I just ran away from comments such as "hope you have a nice trip" and "make sure Jordan (the boss) doesn't put you on the wrong flight and send you somewhere you won't want to go."

Tweeting about surgery

I realize that I may be too out of it to actually blog about the surgery and the recovery. Insted, if you are interested, you can follow brief updates on Twitter at www.twitter.com/vsundqvist (sign up to follow me).

I am allowed a cell phone and an iPod in the hospital, so I will try to tweet whenever I feel up to it. I will also keep my phone next to the bed at home, so I can tweet about how I'm doing for those who are interested.

The surgery is scheduled for July 1, next Wednesday.

Time to tell

I've told my family, my closest friends and my co-workers. I guess now it's time to tell the rest of the world.

I am scheduled to have surgery on July 1.

I've written before about my fibroid. While I am still employed and have health insurance, and before this thing grows any bigger, it is time to get it taken care of.

It's going to be at a hospital in New Haven, and my regular OB/GYN is going to do the actual cutting and sewing back together. I will most likely be there until July 3 - coming home just in time for the July 4 weekend.

I've taken off from work for at least four weeks to recover, but the doctor told me today he won't let me go back until he gives the "A-OK." No driving for 10 days after surgery. Lots of "CSI" and "Friends" are in store.

Oh, and Albie bought us a Wii, so I might be playing a lot of that as soon as I feel better!