My fun started on Thursday, when I cut the TV/phone/internet cable with a hedge trimmer in my zealous efforts to get rid of the weeds around the back door. My husband was very calm about it. "Things happen, it's okay." Which was a nice way of saying "It's okay, we still have our cell phones!"
Wait...no... it started a couple of days earlier, we'd gone out of town to visit with some old friends from where we used to live, and when our older two were tiny things. We had a great time, and I behaved and didn't indulge in any non-keto foods. I even brought dessert, a keto rhubarb crisp with a coconut almond crust.
Everyone enjoyed it.
I got sick 3 bites in.
Some Tums helped me make it home, and Gravol/Dramamine helped me sleep.
I was convinced it was rhubarb.
Then I thought, what if it's the almonds?
So, on Friday night, I tried an almond cookie.
That was around 10pm.
By 11pm I was chowing down on more Tums.
By 12pm I was chowing down on more Gravol.
By 1am I had my heating pad on my stomach.
By 2am I was shaking my husband to wake up and take me to the emergency room, and having a hard time breathing because of the pain.
By 2:30 am, I was SOBBING in the triage unit. They said the wait was a couple of hours, which made me cry harder. Or I could go to a hospital an hour away. Umm, noooo. I'm about to pass out RIGHT NOW!
As the seconds ticked on, my pain cranked up like crazy. It felt like someone was turning a dial made of knives and fire. My husband had to answer some of the triage questions and almost all of the admitting questions. I think the fact that I, a grown woman, was doubled over and sobbing may have cut the wait time down to nothing.
None of the veins in my hands cooperated, so hello giant IV needle in the crook of my elbow. The very nice nurse said, "Don't bend your arm, honey."
Yeah, umm, no kidding.
I spent the rest of the night in the emergency room. A baby cried almost all night, and the two men in the next room had to get told to shut up because hello, 4am?
They gave me morphine in my shoulder (wow, that stuff BURNS) and antibiotics via IV. By morning, I'd had blood drawn, and an ultrasound.
And the news that I'd be having surgery either sometime on Saturday, or on Sunday. They moved me upstairs where my husband and I set up camp.
I have spotty recollection of Saturday afternoon, but I do remember the surgeon coming in and chatting with me and my husband. I guess it's handy to have at least one coherent person around to listen to the doctors.
Before I went upstairs, an ER nurse came in to "check" my IV. She tugged too hard on the tape and did some damage. Which meant that the nurses who took care of me in room 4048 had to re-do the IV into my right hand.
Hello, IV pole on squeaky wheels. Let's go get stuck in the bathroom door every two hours. Why every two hours? Because that there was IV bolus # 7.
They took me down to the operating room around 7pm, and the anesthetist talked to me and asked a few questions. Once again, my husband was there to provide coherent answers. Which was good, because all I did was throw up. One of our friends from church was one of my OR nurses, a fact that is both comforting, and mortifying. But she's too much of a professional to post anything about my hurling skills online...right Heather?
I was out of surgery by 8:30, and back in my room at some point. I have no idea exactly what time, because I was totally narc'd on morphine and whatever meds they gave me to relaaaaaax before surgery.
During the night, on bathroom trip # 492, I came out of the bathroom and found a MAN at the foot of my bed. His pajamas and wrist band gave it away that he wasn't on staff. Then I immediately decided I'd nail him with a left handed throat punch, because the IV in my right hand would probably break if I used it in self-defense. And it would hurt.
He assured me that was there to help me get back into bed, and was insisting that he help me with my blankets. I was loud enough to alert one of the nurses, who immediately came flying and apologized profusely whilst escorting the man out of my room.
Thank the Lord for morphine. Even after that, sleep was not a problem.
After a busy night of waking up from a dead sleep, every two hours to go potty, I woke up Sunday morning to see that I had a view of the water!
Now, I didn't feel too awful and knew that there was a possibility that I might be released!!!
But before I could go anywhere, I hoped someone would bring me some breakfast. It was too much to hope that I'd get a keto-breakfast. And I realized that before I can return to keto, I need to recover from abdominal surgery. Yes, it was "just" a laparoscopic procedure. But they did slice 4 holes into me and dig around and remove a vital organ.
The keto zealots can take a hike.
Also, I hadn't eaten since Friday evening, and it was Sunday morning.
So, breakfast...what would it be? I'd have been fine with toast.
I cannot remember the last time I willingly ate oatmeal, let alone hospital oatmeal. But seriously? I even ripped open the white sugar and added a bit of milk and HELLO!! MANNA FROM HEAVEN!!!
Toast AND Jam!?!?! Don't mind if I do!
But I KNOW those mugs always taste like coffee, so the sweet nurse brought me an actual improvement over hardened plastic.
Shortly after switching cups, I was set free!!!
I posted this shot of my quilt on Sunday, and proved that I was HOME. It was a great thing to crawl into my own bed!!
It was quite a weekend, and yes, this messes up my brilliant plans for world domination and keto weight loss. But I am thankful that the pain is done with, and I can recover at home. And yes, my husband is fabulous and very good at taking care of me, and nudging me to get up and do a few laps around the living room.
Overall, I received excellent care, and I am beyond thankful to have such kindness extended to me when I was looped and hurting.
I'm also thankful that I wasn't on a deadline of any sort! I cannot imagine trying to get work done while in hospital!
As for keto? Right now, my focus is on recovering and sorting out what I can and cannot eat. I'll tackle keto again maybe next week. For now, I need to get through one day without painkillers. Adding the extra discipline of a ketogenic protocol when all my body wants is chicken noodle soup and toast?
I may be a little off kilter, and somewhat medicated, but I'm not stupid. The extra pressure is not worth it. Or healthy!
Now, back to my tea...