Here I am - 5 weeks post-op and I still haven't lost anything since August 1st. I am beyond frustrated now, and I am depressed, feeling hopeless and wanting to stop this necessary obsessive behavior to ensure I get enough water and protein every day. It seems I live for counting ounces of water and grams of protein. I can barely function or get out of the house to do anything because I am constantly worried about eating when I think it's time to eat and taking CONSTANT sips of water that don't settle very well in my stomach. :(
I got on the scale yesterday to see a 2 pound weight loss! I was so excited and thought that maybe, just MAYBE this blasted weight loss stall was over. Got on this morning to see 1 pound gained. I am just fit to be tied! I am now able to eat about 500-650 calories per day and I yesterday I drank almost the full 64 oz. required of me daily. How is it possible to eat that little and not lose weight? I don't get it!
I am eating high protein foods with little to no carbs and very, very low fat. WHAT IN THE HELL is wrong with my body? I know that there have been other people who have not lost weight with the VSG, but it's so rare. I can't believe I am going to be another. This is unreal. I am also still retaining water in my feet and ankles. I thought that maybe drinking more water might release that, but it doesn't seem to be making any difference yet.
I finally tried on some of my smaller clothes to try in desperation to find something positive to celebrate here and I have moved from a size 28 to a size 24, but I think that was probably done with the pre-surgery 28 pound weight loss.
I am calling my primary care provider in the morning. This whole situation is crazy and I need some help here - if only for some anti-depressants.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
The Menu
So what I am eating this fourth week since surgery? Well, at this point I am sticking to pretty light foods and mostly what are called "full liquids".
Full liquids are kind of confusing. Since I don't have a surgeon here in the states and I really don't have the support that is so helpful, I have been relying vastly on the fellow "sleevers" (as we call ourselves) on a Facebook group that I joined. We all either had the surgery in July or are having it this Summer. It's so helpful to have a Nutritionist to see, but of course my crappy insurance policy through Aetna doesn't cover that either. Anyway, but I digress... Full liquids are loosely termed thus as they contain a large group from pudding, jello, soups without vegetables or meat, mashed potatoes, oatmeal, protein shakes, Cream of Wheat, grits, cottage cheese and things all the way up to scrambled eggs. Scambled eggs don't seem very liquid to me, but they are ok. I have eaten things not on this list like cheese, thinly sliced deli meats, and even very tender pieces of beef chewed well. Not much feels good going down right now. I have only had true pain once when I know it was a little bit too much food for my sleeve, but it's more of an uncomfortable indigestion. Whether I eat or drink seems to make little difference. Very rarely do I feel GOOD after eating or drinking something. It's just kind of not very much fun.
I have started tracking my caloric intake as well as my protein intake daily through a free app on my iPhone called MyFitnessPal. It's really great and it shows me how much I am taking in. The gastric sleeve is a great tool, but the real work comes in for me watching that I am getting a minimum of 60 grams of protein a day! I took for granted before my sleeve getting in the proper nutrition. When you eat as much as I ate, you know you are probably getting everything you need. Now, it's very tough to get in 60g of protein in a day. If I eat less than that consistently, I will lose my hair and become ill. This is a serious minimum and I have to work at this every single day.
A protein shake in the morning is good for about 25g of protein. Much more than 25g-27g per meal is not even absorbed by the human body per meal anyway, so that is about right. Sounds like a good and easy way to get some protein, right? Not so much. Protein shakes are not the most delicious things to drink and after many weeks of them I am downright SICK OF THEM. I can't really complain because lots of sleevers are absolutely repulsed by them since surgery. Our tastes change very much after surgery and sometimes things that we liked or could manage to eat are no longer possible. They taste bad and they are gritty, but that is a good start to proper protein intake for the day, so I try to drink one every morning.
Lunch is easier - I can eat part of a 3oz little cup of Chicken of the Sea tuna "to go" and that is good - all protein. Sometimes a little chicken salad made with canned chicken and some fat free mayo is good too, but you will note that neither of these is a "full liquid". I chew very, very well and I try to eat slowly.
Eating slowly. That's a topic all on it's own. I always thought of the people I know and of my family members, I ate pretty reasonably slowly. Wrong. I have to really concentrate and work hard to chew, chew, chew and I am forcing myself to swallow about once every 1-3 minutes. Do you know how hard that really is? My sleeve needs time to allow the food to move/slide down to make room for the next bite. Not waiting between swallows makes for pain and for some people, vomiting. I have been very fortunate with nausea and vomiting. I have had little nausea and no vomiting since Day 3 after surgery (and that was caused by that nasty Barium we had to swallow for the leak test).
I am tired of working so hard to eat already, but to be totally honest, I am not hungry in the slightest and do not miss food. I am forever grateful for this release from what could have been total torture. People that have the lap band or gastric bypass don't get this wonderful benefit. Losing that part of my stomach that makes Ghrelin (which signals hunger to the brain) is the BEST part of this surgery. I know when it's time to put energy into my body, but I really don't crave anything and I am not hungry. Every once in awhile I will think of something that I used to enjoy, but the thought is gone within literally only a few minutes. I just have no interest anymore. Seeing that in print and thinking of it the past few weeks has caused some tears here for me. I am happy and grateful, but I have grown up loving food so much, that it seems almost wrong or twisted in some way. It's such a new me and such a new life! I can't believe this is how I am now!
Snacks are easy for me right now - string cheese sticks, a slice of cheddar or some Greek yogurt (not my favorite) will give me quite a few more grams of protein. I look forward to being able to get just a tiny bit more in me, because at this point for most foods I can eat less than 1/4 cup at a time. The surgeon told me I will get to 1/2 a cup within the year, but I will probably never eat much more than that. Have you really looked at how much food goes into a 1/4 cup?
Right now, many of the other sleevers I talk to are telling me that I am not eating enough and certainly not getting my 64oz of water in everyday that is required and they tell me that this is why I am not losing more weight more quickly. I am going to make a big effort for the rest of the week to get in enough water and more than the 350-500 calories that I eat everyday. They say I should be up around 700 calories! Maybe this will end my "2 week stall" and give me some loss..... We'll see.
Full liquids are kind of confusing. Since I don't have a surgeon here in the states and I really don't have the support that is so helpful, I have been relying vastly on the fellow "sleevers" (as we call ourselves) on a Facebook group that I joined. We all either had the surgery in July or are having it this Summer. It's so helpful to have a Nutritionist to see, but of course my crappy insurance policy through Aetna doesn't cover that either. Anyway, but I digress... Full liquids are loosely termed thus as they contain a large group from pudding, jello, soups without vegetables or meat, mashed potatoes, oatmeal, protein shakes, Cream of Wheat, grits, cottage cheese and things all the way up to scrambled eggs. Scambled eggs don't seem very liquid to me, but they are ok. I have eaten things not on this list like cheese, thinly sliced deli meats, and even very tender pieces of beef chewed well. Not much feels good going down right now. I have only had true pain once when I know it was a little bit too much food for my sleeve, but it's more of an uncomfortable indigestion. Whether I eat or drink seems to make little difference. Very rarely do I feel GOOD after eating or drinking something. It's just kind of not very much fun.
I have started tracking my caloric intake as well as my protein intake daily through a free app on my iPhone called MyFitnessPal. It's really great and it shows me how much I am taking in. The gastric sleeve is a great tool, but the real work comes in for me watching that I am getting a minimum of 60 grams of protein a day! I took for granted before my sleeve getting in the proper nutrition. When you eat as much as I ate, you know you are probably getting everything you need. Now, it's very tough to get in 60g of protein in a day. If I eat less than that consistently, I will lose my hair and become ill. This is a serious minimum and I have to work at this every single day.
A protein shake in the morning is good for about 25g of protein. Much more than 25g-27g per meal is not even absorbed by the human body per meal anyway, so that is about right. Sounds like a good and easy way to get some protein, right? Not so much. Protein shakes are not the most delicious things to drink and after many weeks of them I am downright SICK OF THEM. I can't really complain because lots of sleevers are absolutely repulsed by them since surgery. Our tastes change very much after surgery and sometimes things that we liked or could manage to eat are no longer possible. They taste bad and they are gritty, but that is a good start to proper protein intake for the day, so I try to drink one every morning.
Lunch is easier - I can eat part of a 3oz little cup of Chicken of the Sea tuna "to go" and that is good - all protein. Sometimes a little chicken salad made with canned chicken and some fat free mayo is good too, but you will note that neither of these is a "full liquid". I chew very, very well and I try to eat slowly.
Eating slowly. That's a topic all on it's own. I always thought of the people I know and of my family members, I ate pretty reasonably slowly. Wrong. I have to really concentrate and work hard to chew, chew, chew and I am forcing myself to swallow about once every 1-3 minutes. Do you know how hard that really is? My sleeve needs time to allow the food to move/slide down to make room for the next bite. Not waiting between swallows makes for pain and for some people, vomiting. I have been very fortunate with nausea and vomiting. I have had little nausea and no vomiting since Day 3 after surgery (and that was caused by that nasty Barium we had to swallow for the leak test).
I am tired of working so hard to eat already, but to be totally honest, I am not hungry in the slightest and do not miss food. I am forever grateful for this release from what could have been total torture. People that have the lap band or gastric bypass don't get this wonderful benefit. Losing that part of my stomach that makes Ghrelin (which signals hunger to the brain) is the BEST part of this surgery. I know when it's time to put energy into my body, but I really don't crave anything and I am not hungry. Every once in awhile I will think of something that I used to enjoy, but the thought is gone within literally only a few minutes. I just have no interest anymore. Seeing that in print and thinking of it the past few weeks has caused some tears here for me. I am happy and grateful, but I have grown up loving food so much, that it seems almost wrong or twisted in some way. It's such a new me and such a new life! I can't believe this is how I am now!
Snacks are easy for me right now - string cheese sticks, a slice of cheddar or some Greek yogurt (not my favorite) will give me quite a few more grams of protein. I look forward to being able to get just a tiny bit more in me, because at this point for most foods I can eat less than 1/4 cup at a time. The surgeon told me I will get to 1/2 a cup within the year, but I will probably never eat much more than that. Have you really looked at how much food goes into a 1/4 cup?
Right now, many of the other sleevers I talk to are telling me that I am not eating enough and certainly not getting my 64oz of water in everyday that is required and they tell me that this is why I am not losing more weight more quickly. I am going to make a big effort for the rest of the week to get in enough water and more than the 350-500 calories that I eat everyday. They say I should be up around 700 calories! Maybe this will end my "2 week stall" and give me some loss..... We'll see.
Hard Times
The last couple of weeks have been hard. There's no sugar coating this. I am very depressed and struggling.
My last big weight loss success was when I had the doctor here take out of my sutures. I have since been in a struggle with water retention and a stubborn body that seemingly doesn't want to be smaller.
There IS such a thing as the "2 week stall". Almost all patients experience the 2 week stall after having a Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy. Some people say it's because our bodies have depleted the glycogen stores that are kept to prevent us from burning muscle in these intense weight loss situations. Glycogen is stored for immediate energy use. I would hypothesize that this glycogen would be used for emergencies in cave man times when the food supply has been low for a long time and the body is way undernourished and then out of the bushes comes a saber-toothed tiger or something. The body then has this immediate energy to draw upon to run and escape. Anyway - with the glycogen stores depleted, the body needs to hold on to water and some calories to store more away. Other people say that the 2 week stall is merely the body's way of healing from the tremendous shock of the surgery and protecting itself during recovery.
Either way - the 2 week stall SUCKS. I have been sitting here at the same weight since August 1st. The 2 week stall lasts sometimes for a week or so, but in others it hangs on for 2 or even 3 weeks. Well, I am into the 3rd week.
The first week of the stall I noticed I was retaining quite a bit of water - mostly in my ankles and feet. The weather was hot, so I wasn't sure if it was the weather or what it was. When I first came home from Mexico, I had the smallest ankles I have had in YEARS, so putting the water back on them was disappointing. It just sat there and even if I kept my feet up as much as possible, it didn't seem to budge. By the end of the first week, I was also noting a really bad emotional state. I was very irritable, cranky and sad. Very sad.
The second week of the stall brought only more of the same, but also my menstrual cycle which really seemed to aggravate things. I gained 6 pounds (obviously only water) and I was deeply depressed. I had little to no interest in daily life and just getting showered daily was a major accomplishment. I cried many times a day and I napped or laid in my bed for a couple of hours a day. I was really struggling with my emotions and felt like everything in my life was a mess. My poor husband could do little but duck and try to be understanding. Of course, there was no weight loss.
At the end of the second week, I lost the water weight and was back down to the 293 I was at the doctor's office for suture removal. Sad, but at least no gain.
The third week has been much of the same. I am fighting for normality. I am trying my absolute hardest to be happy and grateful for all that I have and I am trying very hard to fight the urge to obsess over the numbers on my scale. I weighed myself yesterday to find I have lost 2 pounds! I was so elated and felt like maybe, just maybe the 2 week stall was over... This morning, I weighed 293 again. No loss. I am dealing with it ok but I am starting to wonder if it's possible that the VSG doesn't work for everyone. I have a VERY low metabolism and I know this. Is it possible that I won't lose weight with this surgery? I have been tracking my calories and I am eating between 350 and 500 calories a day. How can I not be losing weight?????
Gratefully, I have discovered the issues with my mood. As fat is burned, the estrogen that is stored in our fat cells is released. Overweight women are basically estrogen warehouses!! I have to be burning fat, because the estrogen overload is out of control! I am just trying to be patient with myself as well as others while I am suffering through this stage. I have explained to my sweet husband that I am working hard to be normal and I am trying very hard not to nit pick him or be impatient with him, but I am sure I will still have my moments. I will be really happy when I am out of this stage in the weight loss. The hopelessness I feel is devastating and I am struggling to just be out of bed - even as I type this.
My last big weight loss success was when I had the doctor here take out of my sutures. I have since been in a struggle with water retention and a stubborn body that seemingly doesn't want to be smaller.
There IS such a thing as the "2 week stall". Almost all patients experience the 2 week stall after having a Vertical Sleeve Gastrectomy. Some people say it's because our bodies have depleted the glycogen stores that are kept to prevent us from burning muscle in these intense weight loss situations. Glycogen is stored for immediate energy use. I would hypothesize that this glycogen would be used for emergencies in cave man times when the food supply has been low for a long time and the body is way undernourished and then out of the bushes comes a saber-toothed tiger or something. The body then has this immediate energy to draw upon to run and escape. Anyway - with the glycogen stores depleted, the body needs to hold on to water and some calories to store more away. Other people say that the 2 week stall is merely the body's way of healing from the tremendous shock of the surgery and protecting itself during recovery.
Either way - the 2 week stall SUCKS. I have been sitting here at the same weight since August 1st. The 2 week stall lasts sometimes for a week or so, but in others it hangs on for 2 or even 3 weeks. Well, I am into the 3rd week.
The first week of the stall I noticed I was retaining quite a bit of water - mostly in my ankles and feet. The weather was hot, so I wasn't sure if it was the weather or what it was. When I first came home from Mexico, I had the smallest ankles I have had in YEARS, so putting the water back on them was disappointing. It just sat there and even if I kept my feet up as much as possible, it didn't seem to budge. By the end of the first week, I was also noting a really bad emotional state. I was very irritable, cranky and sad. Very sad.
The second week of the stall brought only more of the same, but also my menstrual cycle which really seemed to aggravate things. I gained 6 pounds (obviously only water) and I was deeply depressed. I had little to no interest in daily life and just getting showered daily was a major accomplishment. I cried many times a day and I napped or laid in my bed for a couple of hours a day. I was really struggling with my emotions and felt like everything in my life was a mess. My poor husband could do little but duck and try to be understanding. Of course, there was no weight loss.
At the end of the second week, I lost the water weight and was back down to the 293 I was at the doctor's office for suture removal. Sad, but at least no gain.
The third week has been much of the same. I am fighting for normality. I am trying my absolute hardest to be happy and grateful for all that I have and I am trying very hard to fight the urge to obsess over the numbers on my scale. I weighed myself yesterday to find I have lost 2 pounds! I was so elated and felt like maybe, just maybe the 2 week stall was over... This morning, I weighed 293 again. No loss. I am dealing with it ok but I am starting to wonder if it's possible that the VSG doesn't work for everyone. I have a VERY low metabolism and I know this. Is it possible that I won't lose weight with this surgery? I have been tracking my calories and I am eating between 350 and 500 calories a day. How can I not be losing weight?????
Gratefully, I have discovered the issues with my mood. As fat is burned, the estrogen that is stored in our fat cells is released. Overweight women are basically estrogen warehouses!! I have to be burning fat, because the estrogen overload is out of control! I am just trying to be patient with myself as well as others while I am suffering through this stage. I have explained to my sweet husband that I am working hard to be normal and I am trying very hard not to nit pick him or be impatient with him, but I am sure I will still have my moments. I will be really happy when I am out of this stage in the weight loss. The hopelessness I feel is devastating and I am struggling to just be out of bed - even as I type this.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Sutures Out
I had talked to my Family Doctor before traveling to Mexico about the surgery and that I would need him to remove the sutures from my belly when I got home. I made the appointment for 10 days post-op as I had been told to in Mexico. The doctor was excited to see that I had now lost 40 pounds and was down to 293!
He said my incisions looked good and took out the sutures with little difficulty. Only two of the many he took out were a little deep and smarted just a little as he removed them. The wound that had originally had the drain hanging out of it began to weep a little bit after he took the stitches out. He said it was just "serum" and totally normal. There was a small collection of fluid in my belly behind that incision and it was going to weep out. He dressed that one and made sure it wouldn't soak through my clothes on the way home. Other than that, everything looked great!
I also made sure to have him note in my chart that I could no longer have Penicillin and never again could I take Ibuprofen or NSAIDs. He seemed a little startled by that since I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but he knew that I had researched this surgery from top to bottom and he seemed to trust that I knew what I was getting into. He kindly wrote me a prescription for liquid Tylenol with Codeine to help me sleep and sent me on my way - healing well and with a big smile on my face from the weigh in. :)
It felt really good to get those sutures out and I have not had any issues with my wounds or healing at all.
He said my incisions looked good and took out the sutures with little difficulty. Only two of the many he took out were a little deep and smarted just a little as he removed them. The wound that had originally had the drain hanging out of it began to weep a little bit after he took the stitches out. He said it was just "serum" and totally normal. There was a small collection of fluid in my belly behind that incision and it was going to weep out. He dressed that one and made sure it wouldn't soak through my clothes on the way home. Other than that, everything looked great!
I also made sure to have him note in my chart that I could no longer have Penicillin and never again could I take Ibuprofen or NSAIDs. He seemed a little startled by that since I have Rheumatoid Arthritis, but he knew that I had researched this surgery from top to bottom and he seemed to trust that I knew what I was getting into. He kindly wrote me a prescription for liquid Tylenol with Codeine to help me sleep and sent me on my way - healing well and with a big smile on my face from the weigh in. :)
It felt really good to get those sutures out and I have not had any issues with my wounds or healing at all.
Learning to sip
The next few days were much the same as the previous days but each one had less pain. I felt a little bit stronger each day and after about 2 nights home, I slept about 6 hours without waking up!
Sipping my broth or water was a little challenging at times. I had to take such small sips and still my stomach would cramp painfully as I started sipping. After about 3 swallows it would ease up, but those first few sips were pretty hard. I was doing really well - no vomiting, mild nausea and no hunger. I was getting so little in me that it seemed crazy, but I was ok and although I was a little weak, I was ok!
After 3 days at home, I talked my husband into taking me on a short shopping excursion for clothes. A local Avenue store is closing and I wanted to take advantage of the deals. I got very tired pretty quickly, but I did get some great bargains and some cute clothes for the next few sizes down. My son continued to come by (a long trip from his house!) everyday for the first 4 days. He ran to the store, made dinner for the family and my husband and helped to keep things running. I am so appreciative for all he has done. He was a wonderful support to me and I am forever grateful. :)
In the mornings I would wake up thirsty and hurting but once I started sipping on something I would feel the pain ease and I felt better and better. I was thinking that it was about time to step on the scale, but I had heard so much about the post-op weight gain (from fluid retention) that I was afraid. Finally I weighed myself about 4 days after getting home (8 days post-op) and I was THRILLED to find that I had lost 37 pounds! I lost 28 with the pre-op diet and 9 more since surgery!
The weight was coming off and I was now below the ugly 300 pound mark to 296!!!!!!
I can't tell you how good it felt to see that I am now under 300 pounds. How I hated that number!
Sipping my broth or water was a little challenging at times. I had to take such small sips and still my stomach would cramp painfully as I started sipping. After about 3 swallows it would ease up, but those first few sips were pretty hard. I was doing really well - no vomiting, mild nausea and no hunger. I was getting so little in me that it seemed crazy, but I was ok and although I was a little weak, I was ok!
After 3 days at home, I talked my husband into taking me on a short shopping excursion for clothes. A local Avenue store is closing and I wanted to take advantage of the deals. I got very tired pretty quickly, but I did get some great bargains and some cute clothes for the next few sizes down. My son continued to come by (a long trip from his house!) everyday for the first 4 days. He ran to the store, made dinner for the family and my husband and helped to keep things running. I am so appreciative for all he has done. He was a wonderful support to me and I am forever grateful. :)
In the mornings I would wake up thirsty and hurting but once I started sipping on something I would feel the pain ease and I felt better and better. I was thinking that it was about time to step on the scale, but I had heard so much about the post-op weight gain (from fluid retention) that I was afraid. Finally I weighed myself about 4 days after getting home (8 days post-op) and I was THRILLED to find that I had lost 37 pounds! I lost 28 with the pre-op diet and 9 more since surgery!
The weight was coming off and I was now below the ugly 300 pound mark to 296!!!!!!
I can't tell you how good it felt to see that I am now under 300 pounds. How I hated that number!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Going home...at least some of us....
Joshua and I were up at 5am. I showered and then woke him gently asking him for some help to re-dress the wounds. What a way to wake up for a 25 year old young man! He rolled over, looked at my ugly wounds and the rest of me draped in towels for privacy and he just sort of moaned... LOL He was pretty squeamish about the wounds and it was NOT pleasant to see them that early in the morning. "Ohhhh gawd, noooooo" he said as got out of bed. LOL
We got them all covered in the gauze and tape that he had walked all over town looking for the night before. The hospital had not even given us gauze and tape to change our dressings before our flights home, so my son and another guest of a patient (Jeff) went out on a trek to find the necessary things at the local "farmacia". Joshua had tried to find some kind of antiseptic spray (as the hospital had been using and that was supposed to be supplied to us, but wasn't) and had a heck of a hard time trying to speak to the store clerks that spoke only Spanish. He did in time find out that down in Mexico in 2012, you can't even so much as purchase an antibiotic salve like "Neosporin" over the counter!! Everything now requires a prescription! I'm not sure if it's the drug cartels or what, but it's a pain in the behind not to be able to get very commonplace items.
I was in a lot of pain still, but stronger that Thursday morning, and I put on a little bit of makeup for the trip home, which did me no good - I was still SO pale. I started working on some chicken broth from the hotel's restaurant (they had amazing food according to Joshua and their chicken broth was fabulous too - way more flavorable than the canned crap we have in the states). I knew that I needed to have some fluids on board for the trip home and I knew that it was going to be hit or miss once we got to the airport. One of the other patients, Andrea, kindly gave me one of her small bottles of Isopure protein water which I thought tasted pretty good and I started working on that too. I finished about half of my broth before the driver finally showed up an hour late at about 8:30am.
I ditched the broth and took the bottle of Isopure, and we loaded into the van. There were 4 patients and their guests/family members. The drive back over the border to the San Diego Airport seemed like it was going to be pretty simple until we got right to the border guards. They took all of our passports and told the driver to pull forward to a stall for further questioning. The guard told the driver, "Do not drive faster than I am walking" and he walked right next to the vehicle, escorting us. It was kind of a creepy feeling, but the driver didn't seem particularly alarmed. Once they pulled us into a stall, a few more border guards arrived at the van. One in particular took control of the passports and Enhanced Driver's Licenses and asked husband of one patient, "Are you Jeffery _____________?" The man replied, "yes" and they asked him to step out of the vehicle. They asked if he had weapons on him and began patting him down. I think all of us were in shock at that moment. We didn't know if this was something fairly routine, or what was going on! The driver started to look nervous and a little concerned. When they slapped the handcuffs on Jeff and started leading him away, his wife said, "I am his wife! What is going on?" The three border guards that were escorting him looked uninterested in answering her question, and one as he was closing the side door of the van to keep her from coming after them answered only, "It would be against the law for me to tell you what is going on right now."
The wife was obviously very upset and we were all trying to calm her down. That kind of stress right after surgery can be very serious. She just kept saying, "We just got our passports. There wasn't any problem. He hasn't done anything. This must be a terrible mistake!" She kept trying to think of what could be wrong, and could only come up with a warrant their son had in the state of Florida for a fishing violation. He was a junior, so she was thinking that maybe they were mixing her husband up with her son and that this was going to be an easy fix. We sat there in that hot van, crowded and unable to get out. The border guards were clear that we were not to leave the vehicle.
Almost an hour passed. The driver was in communication with the hospital, letting them know what was going on and some of the other patients were starting to become concerned about catching their flights. Joshua and I knew we were fine because our flight out of San Diego wasn't until 2:55pm! Finally Jeff was escorted back to the vehicle and he got in without saying a word. The border guard compared all of our passports/Enhanced driver's licenses with our faces to make sure it was really us, and then announced that he would have to search one random suitcase. He asked if any of us had any liquor, cigars, plants, seeds or food. Everyone said no and when he picked the random bag, he asked again, saying, "This is your last chance. Do you have anything to declare?" The bozo woman that owned the suitcase then admitted that she had a bottle of alcohol in the suitcase, but he was not concerned. He made a mess of her things, and left the bag open, but didn't have any issue with it's contents so were cleared to leave the country and enter the USA. Phew! That was scary!
For the duration of the drive to San Diego Airport, Jeff said nothing and was almost motionless. He seemed very upset. As the driver dropped us off at our airline check in spots, we all said goodbye and wished each other luck. Joshua and I got out second to last with Jeff and his wife only left in the van, and Josh patted Jeff on the back and said something like, "I hope everything is ok." Jeff responded only with, "well at least you guys will get home." Yikes! Joshua and I both were left with the impression that Jeff was going to be met at home with the police and maybe he was going to jail. It was a sad thing and we parted not knowing the details or whether or not they made it home safely, which was not a comforting feeling.
Once at the Alaska Airlines terminal, we had fantastic service. We told them that I had just had surgery and they were so kind and accomodating. They got me a wheelchair and helped us check in. They then wheeled me all the way through security and to our gate. I did have to get up and stand in the x-ray machine (I hate those things - what an infringement of my privacy!) but I was wheeled the rest of the way. We got to our gate as they were boarding a flight home to Seattle 2 hours ahead of ours. We both sure wished we could get on that one!! We watched another flight board and depart for Seattle and then we knew that our plane was next. Right about that time, we were told it was running late... Good grief! I had been sitting in that wheelchair for like 5 hours by then and I was tired, in pain and ready to get home. Luckily our plane was only a few minutes late and were boarding soon thereafter. They again wheeled me all the way to the airplane's door. We were in First Class (Row 2) so it wasn't a long walk. The flight attendant took one look at me and said, "You are very pale - did you just have surgery?" I told her I had and that I was ok - just tired and in pain. She was very good to me the whole flight, checking on me and making sure I was comfortable. The 2.5 hours back to Seattle went much faster than I had thought it would and I was almost giddy when I looked out the window to see Mt. Rainier. Our landing was great and we taxied in to the gate smoothly.
Waiting for me right outside the plane was another wheelchair, which took us all the way to the baggage claim area. Our luggage was available within about 15 minutes and we immediately saw our driver waiting to drive us home. It was all just so smooth! We loaded into the Lincoln Towncar (I chose it for it's smooth ride on the way home) and the driver expertly avoided much of the rush hour (5:30pm) traffic and got us home in about 30 minutes!
I was so happy to see my street and my house!! There was a short time that first night of the surgery when I wondered truly if I would ever see my home and family again. I felt a little bit traumatized from the whole experience, but seeing my husband's smile made it all ok. I was just SO glad to be home. Joshua and my husband helped me into the house and got me in my jammies and into bed. Boy, did that bed feel good! My poor husband had to go work for me as a karaoke host that night and so he had to leave shortly after I got home, but Joshua stayed and made sure I had broth, water and pills in me. My mom came too after a bit and stayed with me for most of the evening so I wouldn't be alone. Joshua drove all over looking for supplies that I would need and sweetly almost seemed reluctant to turn over the reigns to a new "team of caregivers". I know he was exhausted but he stayed for a long time making sure I was ok. It was very sweet and I really appreciated it. Before he left, he made sure that my mom was up to speed on my meds and when I needed them all again. I had a hard time getting comfortable, but I did fine and as soon as my husband got home, I sacked out for about 4 uninterrupted hours of rest. It felt great!
We got them all covered in the gauze and tape that he had walked all over town looking for the night before. The hospital had not even given us gauze and tape to change our dressings before our flights home, so my son and another guest of a patient (Jeff) went out on a trek to find the necessary things at the local "farmacia". Joshua had tried to find some kind of antiseptic spray (as the hospital had been using and that was supposed to be supplied to us, but wasn't) and had a heck of a hard time trying to speak to the store clerks that spoke only Spanish. He did in time find out that down in Mexico in 2012, you can't even so much as purchase an antibiotic salve like "Neosporin" over the counter!! Everything now requires a prescription! I'm not sure if it's the drug cartels or what, but it's a pain in the behind not to be able to get very commonplace items.
I was in a lot of pain still, but stronger that Thursday morning, and I put on a little bit of makeup for the trip home, which did me no good - I was still SO pale. I started working on some chicken broth from the hotel's restaurant (they had amazing food according to Joshua and their chicken broth was fabulous too - way more flavorable than the canned crap we have in the states). I knew that I needed to have some fluids on board for the trip home and I knew that it was going to be hit or miss once we got to the airport. One of the other patients, Andrea, kindly gave me one of her small bottles of Isopure protein water which I thought tasted pretty good and I started working on that too. I finished about half of my broth before the driver finally showed up an hour late at about 8:30am.
I ditched the broth and took the bottle of Isopure, and we loaded into the van. There were 4 patients and their guests/family members. The drive back over the border to the San Diego Airport seemed like it was going to be pretty simple until we got right to the border guards. They took all of our passports and told the driver to pull forward to a stall for further questioning. The guard told the driver, "Do not drive faster than I am walking" and he walked right next to the vehicle, escorting us. It was kind of a creepy feeling, but the driver didn't seem particularly alarmed. Once they pulled us into a stall, a few more border guards arrived at the van. One in particular took control of the passports and Enhanced Driver's Licenses and asked husband of one patient, "Are you Jeffery _____________?" The man replied, "yes" and they asked him to step out of the vehicle. They asked if he had weapons on him and began patting him down. I think all of us were in shock at that moment. We didn't know if this was something fairly routine, or what was going on! The driver started to look nervous and a little concerned. When they slapped the handcuffs on Jeff and started leading him away, his wife said, "I am his wife! What is going on?" The three border guards that were escorting him looked uninterested in answering her question, and one as he was closing the side door of the van to keep her from coming after them answered only, "It would be against the law for me to tell you what is going on right now."
The wife was obviously very upset and we were all trying to calm her down. That kind of stress right after surgery can be very serious. She just kept saying, "We just got our passports. There wasn't any problem. He hasn't done anything. This must be a terrible mistake!" She kept trying to think of what could be wrong, and could only come up with a warrant their son had in the state of Florida for a fishing violation. He was a junior, so she was thinking that maybe they were mixing her husband up with her son and that this was going to be an easy fix. We sat there in that hot van, crowded and unable to get out. The border guards were clear that we were not to leave the vehicle.
Almost an hour passed. The driver was in communication with the hospital, letting them know what was going on and some of the other patients were starting to become concerned about catching their flights. Joshua and I knew we were fine because our flight out of San Diego wasn't until 2:55pm! Finally Jeff was escorted back to the vehicle and he got in without saying a word. The border guard compared all of our passports/Enhanced driver's licenses with our faces to make sure it was really us, and then announced that he would have to search one random suitcase. He asked if any of us had any liquor, cigars, plants, seeds or food. Everyone said no and when he picked the random bag, he asked again, saying, "This is your last chance. Do you have anything to declare?" The bozo woman that owned the suitcase then admitted that she had a bottle of alcohol in the suitcase, but he was not concerned. He made a mess of her things, and left the bag open, but didn't have any issue with it's contents so were cleared to leave the country and enter the USA. Phew! That was scary!
For the duration of the drive to San Diego Airport, Jeff said nothing and was almost motionless. He seemed very upset. As the driver dropped us off at our airline check in spots, we all said goodbye and wished each other luck. Joshua and I got out second to last with Jeff and his wife only left in the van, and Josh patted Jeff on the back and said something like, "I hope everything is ok." Jeff responded only with, "well at least you guys will get home." Yikes! Joshua and I both were left with the impression that Jeff was going to be met at home with the police and maybe he was going to jail. It was a sad thing and we parted not knowing the details or whether or not they made it home safely, which was not a comforting feeling.
Once at the Alaska Airlines terminal, we had fantastic service. We told them that I had just had surgery and they were so kind and accomodating. They got me a wheelchair and helped us check in. They then wheeled me all the way through security and to our gate. I did have to get up and stand in the x-ray machine (I hate those things - what an infringement of my privacy!) but I was wheeled the rest of the way. We got to our gate as they were boarding a flight home to Seattle 2 hours ahead of ours. We both sure wished we could get on that one!! We watched another flight board and depart for Seattle and then we knew that our plane was next. Right about that time, we were told it was running late... Good grief! I had been sitting in that wheelchair for like 5 hours by then and I was tired, in pain and ready to get home. Luckily our plane was only a few minutes late and were boarding soon thereafter. They again wheeled me all the way to the airplane's door. We were in First Class (Row 2) so it wasn't a long walk. The flight attendant took one look at me and said, "You are very pale - did you just have surgery?" I told her I had and that I was ok - just tired and in pain. She was very good to me the whole flight, checking on me and making sure I was comfortable. The 2.5 hours back to Seattle went much faster than I had thought it would and I was almost giddy when I looked out the window to see Mt. Rainier. Our landing was great and we taxied in to the gate smoothly.
Waiting for me right outside the plane was another wheelchair, which took us all the way to the baggage claim area. Our luggage was available within about 15 minutes and we immediately saw our driver waiting to drive us home. It was all just so smooth! We loaded into the Lincoln Towncar (I chose it for it's smooth ride on the way home) and the driver expertly avoided much of the rush hour (5:30pm) traffic and got us home in about 30 minutes!
I was so happy to see my street and my house!! There was a short time that first night of the surgery when I wondered truly if I would ever see my home and family again. I felt a little bit traumatized from the whole experience, but seeing my husband's smile made it all ok. I was just SO glad to be home. Joshua and my husband helped me into the house and got me in my jammies and into bed. Boy, did that bed feel good! My poor husband had to go work for me as a karaoke host that night and so he had to leave shortly after I got home, but Joshua stayed and made sure I had broth, water and pills in me. My mom came too after a bit and stayed with me for most of the evening so I wouldn't be alone. Joshua drove all over looking for supplies that I would need and sweetly almost seemed reluctant to turn over the reigns to a new "team of caregivers". I know he was exhausted but he stayed for a long time making sure I was ok. It was very sweet and I really appreciated it. Before he left, he made sure that my mom was up to speed on my meds and when I needed them all again. I had a hard time getting comfortable, but I did fine and as soon as my husband got home, I sacked out for about 4 uninterrupted hours of rest. It felt great!
Barium was NOT my friend
At 7am the next morning (Day 3 after surgery) I was up and trying my best to swallow the barium. It was SO awful! Joshua came up with the brilliant idea of adding a drop of my Mio water flavoring to it and that helped some, but still every single little sip resulted in dry heaves and nearly losing what I had gotten in. We called the other patients in the hotel and they were also having a very hard time getting and keeping it down, so we gave them all a drop in their barium too. It was probably about 2oz total, but it might as well have been 20. I just couldn't get it down and then it started to hurt my tiny stomach as though it was being stretched and that wasn't good either.
At 8:30 (EARLY for once!!) the driver showed up and we all staggered down to the lobby for our ride to the Radiology Clinic to x-ray our stomachs and check for leaks. All but one of us got into the van and we all started crying. We were tired, in pain, miserable trying to drink that crap and I think we had just all had enough. We sobbed awhile waiting for the last patient (and his wife) and then they closed us in and we drove the very few blocks to the Radiology place.
As we walked in, we looked like quite the miserable bunch. Some were crying, some were vomiting and some were just hunched over in pain and miserable. I was the latter. I just felt miserable. I still hadn't gotten more than about half of my barium down and I was still trying to get it down, but I really didn't want to throw up in this public place either. I had my emesis basin with me, just in case. There were Mexican citizens there, waiting for x-rays or ultrasounds, etc. They were all looking at us like were crazy. Some were dressed, partially, some were in pjs. We also got reunited with the other patients that had been sleeved the same day but had been sent to the recovery house. My roommate from the first night was there, with her drain tube hanging out of her pants and her "blood grenade" as Joshua called it hanging out for all to see. There were lots of odd looks. I imagine the Mexican citizens wondered what in the world was going on! There was a lot of whispering for sure. Here is a picture of my drain tube and "blood grenade" from that day --
Sorry, I know it's pretty graphic but if you are contemplating having this surgery, you might as well know the truth.
It took them about 15 minutes of waiting there in discomfort before they finally started calling our names and taking us back for the one x-ray. We had to swallow about an ounce of contrast all in one swallow which was super tough as well and then they would snap the x-ray. Within moments we were told that we were leak free and sent back out to the waiting room. I opted to purchase my x-ray for $20 (talk about a racket - we had already paid for the x-ray in the surgery fee as far as I was concerned) and brought it home for my doctor.
It was very relieving to know that I didn't have any leaks and that I was cleared for sipping on broth, but it took most of that day to recover from the test. I was very sore and began having diarrhea that was like very heavy liquid. I'm sure that was the barium barreling it's way out. I was happy to get it out.
We were told that they would again return for us at 2pm for meds and an IV, but all of us opted to just stay at the hotel. None of us wanted to travel those bumpy roads for a weak solution of a pain med that really didn't help. It just wasn't worth it. We opted to be picked up at 7pm for a trip to the hospital for removal of our IV, meds, dressing changes and removal of the drain.
They told us they would be coming at 2pm anyway for any of us (or our guests) that wanted to go on a short shopping trip that afternoon. None of us were up to going, but my son and one of the patients' mothers wanted to go. We got a call in our room about 1:30 saying that the driver would arrive in 20 minutes. I turned off the tv and tried to nap. After 2.5 hours, my son came back to the room, irritated that they had never shown up! He called the hospital and was told that there had been a misunderstanding and a driver would be there shortly. 40 minutes later they showed up and took them shopping. Horrible communication and no real sense of responsibility to the patients or their guests. :(
The driver was of course late again and it was almost 8 by the time we arrived at the hospital. I told the nurse that I wasn't able to have Penicillin again, and he informed us all that he wasn't giving any anyway and that we should start taking the pills given to us the first morning after surgery. He was totally unconcerned with my welts or allergic reaction. He then attempted to give us a bag of IV fluids but all of our IV lines were collapsed and we were unable to get anything into our veins. He pushed the fluid through the tubing, trying to get my vein to accept it, but it just burned and hurt and leaked under my skin and outside of it too. He offered to give us a pain shot in the muscle in our butts instead, or to give us a new IV for that purpose. I refused both as I was in enough pain and I just couldn't really take the thought of more pain for a ridiculous dose of something that wouldn't help anyway.
He removed our IVs from our hands and that was nice. It was sore by this point and a pleasure to get it out. Two weeks later, I still have a scab on that site, so the IV was obviously large, but it just didn't last.
Next came the drain removals. I was last which wasn't the best, as I got to listen to the others in the room before me. Most made at least some noise and one lady came out crying from it. I asked the nurse how long the tube was and he showed me about 10 inches with his hand. No big deal! I got this! He had me breathe deeply in and then out slowly as he pulled the damn thing out. It was WAY longer than 10" and I ran out of air on the exhale as he finished, but it was out! I couldn't believe how much better I felt having that thing out. It was almost immediate! All of us were very wiped out. It had been a very emotional and painful 3 days and I think all of us were anxious to get on our flights home the next day.
We went back to the hotel and relaxed. Out driver was to pick us up at 7am for the airport, so I tried to get some sleep. Finally we were going home!!!
At 8:30 (EARLY for once!!) the driver showed up and we all staggered down to the lobby for our ride to the Radiology Clinic to x-ray our stomachs and check for leaks. All but one of us got into the van and we all started crying. We were tired, in pain, miserable trying to drink that crap and I think we had just all had enough. We sobbed awhile waiting for the last patient (and his wife) and then they closed us in and we drove the very few blocks to the Radiology place.
As we walked in, we looked like quite the miserable bunch. Some were crying, some were vomiting and some were just hunched over in pain and miserable. I was the latter. I just felt miserable. I still hadn't gotten more than about half of my barium down and I was still trying to get it down, but I really didn't want to throw up in this public place either. I had my emesis basin with me, just in case. There were Mexican citizens there, waiting for x-rays or ultrasounds, etc. They were all looking at us like were crazy. Some were dressed, partially, some were in pjs. We also got reunited with the other patients that had been sleeved the same day but had been sent to the recovery house. My roommate from the first night was there, with her drain tube hanging out of her pants and her "blood grenade" as Joshua called it hanging out for all to see. There were lots of odd looks. I imagine the Mexican citizens wondered what in the world was going on! There was a lot of whispering for sure. Here is a picture of my drain tube and "blood grenade" from that day --
It took them about 15 minutes of waiting there in discomfort before they finally started calling our names and taking us back for the one x-ray. We had to swallow about an ounce of contrast all in one swallow which was super tough as well and then they would snap the x-ray. Within moments we were told that we were leak free and sent back out to the waiting room. I opted to purchase my x-ray for $20 (talk about a racket - we had already paid for the x-ray in the surgery fee as far as I was concerned) and brought it home for my doctor.
It was very relieving to know that I didn't have any leaks and that I was cleared for sipping on broth, but it took most of that day to recover from the test. I was very sore and began having diarrhea that was like very heavy liquid. I'm sure that was the barium barreling it's way out. I was happy to get it out.
We were told that they would again return for us at 2pm for meds and an IV, but all of us opted to just stay at the hotel. None of us wanted to travel those bumpy roads for a weak solution of a pain med that really didn't help. It just wasn't worth it. We opted to be picked up at 7pm for a trip to the hospital for removal of our IV, meds, dressing changes and removal of the drain.
They told us they would be coming at 2pm anyway for any of us (or our guests) that wanted to go on a short shopping trip that afternoon. None of us were up to going, but my son and one of the patients' mothers wanted to go. We got a call in our room about 1:30 saying that the driver would arrive in 20 minutes. I turned off the tv and tried to nap. After 2.5 hours, my son came back to the room, irritated that they had never shown up! He called the hospital and was told that there had been a misunderstanding and a driver would be there shortly. 40 minutes later they showed up and took them shopping. Horrible communication and no real sense of responsibility to the patients or their guests. :(
The driver was of course late again and it was almost 8 by the time we arrived at the hospital. I told the nurse that I wasn't able to have Penicillin again, and he informed us all that he wasn't giving any anyway and that we should start taking the pills given to us the first morning after surgery. He was totally unconcerned with my welts or allergic reaction. He then attempted to give us a bag of IV fluids but all of our IV lines were collapsed and we were unable to get anything into our veins. He pushed the fluid through the tubing, trying to get my vein to accept it, but it just burned and hurt and leaked under my skin and outside of it too. He offered to give us a pain shot in the muscle in our butts instead, or to give us a new IV for that purpose. I refused both as I was in enough pain and I just couldn't really take the thought of more pain for a ridiculous dose of something that wouldn't help anyway.
He removed our IVs from our hands and that was nice. It was sore by this point and a pleasure to get it out. Two weeks later, I still have a scab on that site, so the IV was obviously large, but it just didn't last.
Next came the drain removals. I was last which wasn't the best, as I got to listen to the others in the room before me. Most made at least some noise and one lady came out crying from it. I asked the nurse how long the tube was and he showed me about 10 inches with his hand. No big deal! I got this! He had me breathe deeply in and then out slowly as he pulled the damn thing out. It was WAY longer than 10" and I ran out of air on the exhale as he finished, but it was out! I couldn't believe how much better I felt having that thing out. It was almost immediate! All of us were very wiped out. It had been a very emotional and painful 3 days and I think all of us were anxious to get on our flights home the next day.
We went back to the hotel and relaxed. Out driver was to pick us up at 7am for the airport, so I tried to get some sleep. Finally we were going home!!!
Day 2 After Surgery
I'll tell you what - 5pm couldn't get there soon enough that first day after surgery. The driver had told us to be in the hotel lobby at 5pm for our ride back to the "hospital" for pain meds and IV fluids. Little by little I got to meet and talk to the other people that had been operated on the same day as me. We were from all over the country, from Miami to Syracuse, NY and all points in between. Most of the patients looked to be far worse off than me, vomiting very frequently and looking even more miserable than I felt.
When 5pm came and went, we were all feeling irritated. We had gone all day long without any meds or nursing care and I think all of us were ready for some relief. A little after 5:30 the driver showed up. Unfortunately, we were told that our loved ones could not go with us. It was upsetting to many, especially the wife (I will call her Maria) who demanded to come with her husband for any treatments he would get. The driver was angry and they went back and forth arguing while the rest of us sat in the van waiting to just leave and get our meds. Finally the driver agreed to let the wife come with us. Maria became our advocate. She asked many questions and got better care for many of us than we might have gotten without her. I thanked her many times for persevering and trying so hard to help us all. I think she sensed how horrible the nursing situation was for all of us and she had compassion that the nursing staff so dearly lacked.
The roads to and from the hospital were deplorable. I understand that the finances of Mexico are very different from the USA, but oh my gosh! The van was bouncing around like crazy for the 15 minutes it took to get to the hospital and the 30+ minutes it took to get back to the hotel (because of the street system). Everyone took turns moaning and making quiet crying out noises as we bounced all over that van to finally get to the hospital. The driver took us to the hospital/clinic a few doors down from where we had surgery that is used primarily for the plastic surgery. We were lead up a narrow flight of stairs (just what a patient that just had abdominal surgery wants to do...NOT) to a cramped room where we were given recliners that couldn't even open fully because there was not enough room. They hooked a bag of saline solution to our IVs in our hands and proceeded to redress our wounds, empty our drains and administer the 1cc of Morphine. My incisions had been covered with adhesive tape without any gauze or anything between the tape and my wounds, so when the nurse yanked the tape, it hurt pretty bad. I asked for him to put gauze on and he agreed, thankfully. We were told that we would not be getting morphine, but some other pain medication, which frankly did nothing for any of us. I was glad to get the IV fluids since I was unable to swallow much, but that and the wound dressing was about all we got out of that. The nurse then told us he would be injecting antibiotics. He asked if any of us were allergic to Penicillin and then injected. As he gave me my dose, I remembered my Grandmother becoming allergic to Penicillin later in life, and I felt a little panicked by the 5cc injection of it, but I seemed ok. Once we were all finished, we were loaded very unceremoniously back onto the van for the hotel.
By the time we got back, my arms were kind of itchy and I noticed my cheeks were hot. I looked in the mirror to find a welt under each eye. About that time, I found welts running up my right arm and I got a little concerned. Penicillin and I no longer get along! I watched the welts and put a cold compress on them throughout and tried not to worry my son, but I was pretty concerned. It seemed like the reaction was just working it's way up both arms very quickly. My forearms swelled and were hot to the touch. The skin actually felt burned!
I slept about 3 hours that next night and had to get up and walk several times in the night, but the gas at least felt as though it was starting to move lower in my belly. The pain was still really awful, but more tolerable.
The driver told us to be in the lobby by 9am the next morning for our x-ray. We were given Barium to drink, and we were told to start drinking it at 7am in order to get it all in by 9am. I have had Barium in the USA before for tests and it's not pleasurable, but it's something that you can get down and keep down. There was NO flavoring of any kind in the bottle were given in Mexico. The taste was so bad that most were throwing it up constantly. It was NOT fun.
When 5pm came and went, we were all feeling irritated. We had gone all day long without any meds or nursing care and I think all of us were ready for some relief. A little after 5:30 the driver showed up. Unfortunately, we were told that our loved ones could not go with us. It was upsetting to many, especially the wife (I will call her Maria) who demanded to come with her husband for any treatments he would get. The driver was angry and they went back and forth arguing while the rest of us sat in the van waiting to just leave and get our meds. Finally the driver agreed to let the wife come with us. Maria became our advocate. She asked many questions and got better care for many of us than we might have gotten without her. I thanked her many times for persevering and trying so hard to help us all. I think she sensed how horrible the nursing situation was for all of us and she had compassion that the nursing staff so dearly lacked.
The roads to and from the hospital were deplorable. I understand that the finances of Mexico are very different from the USA, but oh my gosh! The van was bouncing around like crazy for the 15 minutes it took to get to the hospital and the 30+ minutes it took to get back to the hotel (because of the street system). Everyone took turns moaning and making quiet crying out noises as we bounced all over that van to finally get to the hospital. The driver took us to the hospital/clinic a few doors down from where we had surgery that is used primarily for the plastic surgery. We were lead up a narrow flight of stairs (just what a patient that just had abdominal surgery wants to do...NOT) to a cramped room where we were given recliners that couldn't even open fully because there was not enough room. They hooked a bag of saline solution to our IVs in our hands and proceeded to redress our wounds, empty our drains and administer the 1cc of Morphine. My incisions had been covered with adhesive tape without any gauze or anything between the tape and my wounds, so when the nurse yanked the tape, it hurt pretty bad. I asked for him to put gauze on and he agreed, thankfully. We were told that we would not be getting morphine, but some other pain medication, which frankly did nothing for any of us. I was glad to get the IV fluids since I was unable to swallow much, but that and the wound dressing was about all we got out of that. The nurse then told us he would be injecting antibiotics. He asked if any of us were allergic to Penicillin and then injected. As he gave me my dose, I remembered my Grandmother becoming allergic to Penicillin later in life, and I felt a little panicked by the 5cc injection of it, but I seemed ok. Once we were all finished, we were loaded very unceremoniously back onto the van for the hotel.
By the time we got back, my arms were kind of itchy and I noticed my cheeks were hot. I looked in the mirror to find a welt under each eye. About that time, I found welts running up my right arm and I got a little concerned. Penicillin and I no longer get along! I watched the welts and put a cold compress on them throughout and tried not to worry my son, but I was pretty concerned. It seemed like the reaction was just working it's way up both arms very quickly. My forearms swelled and were hot to the touch. The skin actually felt burned!
I slept about 3 hours that next night and had to get up and walk several times in the night, but the gas at least felt as though it was starting to move lower in my belly. The pain was still really awful, but more tolerable.
The driver told us to be in the lobby by 9am the next morning for our x-ray. We were given Barium to drink, and we were told to start drinking it at 7am in order to get it all in by 9am. I have had Barium in the USA before for tests and it's not pleasurable, but it's something that you can get down and keep down. There was NO flavoring of any kind in the bottle were given in Mexico. The taste was so bad that most were throwing it up constantly. It was NOT fun.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
MIserable
Miserable doesn't really adequately describe the first 24 hours after surgery or so....
I woke up in recovery without anyone really near me. The young male nurse that had put my IV in told me to rest and he turned the lights out and disappeared. I was in a considerable amount of pain and I remember speaking to him in perfect Spanish telling him "Tengo mucho dolor" which means I have much pain! He told me that I had been medicated and would need to rest. I remember thinking - "OK.. this hurts so much. Maybe if I can sleep a little I will feel better when I wake up."
Two hours later I woke to the nurse (same one again) opening the door of the room and telling me that I needed to get up. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, "Geez... two hours isn't really much sleep after abdominal surgery!" Within seconds, I realized again how much pain I was in and I told the nurse again in Spanish that I was in a huge amount of pain and that I needed my "hijo" (or son).
I figured by this time Joshua was probably very worried unless they had kept him apprised of my condition and I needed the comfort of a loved one terribly at that point. He told me that he would work on that, but first I needed to get up and walk to my bed. "WHAT??" I thought.... WALK? I was so woozy from surgery and an obvious amount of pain meds. All of a sudden the big burly anesthesiologist appeared (at least I *think* it was him. He took my hands and started guiding me up and out of the bed. My legs were so weak under me and I could barely keep my eyes open. He told me constantly to look him in the eye and walk. I really don't know how I stumbled out of that recovery room and walked to my bed, but I did. I was sure that I was going to fall or pass out as I went, but I made it safely with both men leading me. I sat on the bed, and instinctively brought my legs around to lie down. The pain in my belly was sharp and I didn't know if it was the gas I had been warned about by the surgeon (necessary to inflate the abdomen and use the surgical laparoscopic instruments), the incisions or the muscles in my belly that had been cut for surgery, but the pain was searing. I tried to get comfortable but I was so groggy and in so much pain, I just sort of slumped into the bed and tried to pull the sheet over me. The nurse was not helpful in this maneuver and left before I was even comfortable. As the nurse went to leave the room again, I asked him to please bring my son to me.
About 20 minutes later, I found myself in an ever increasing amount of pain. I was literally writhing on the bed and making quiet moaning sounds as they brought my son to me. He looked very concerned and a bit afraid as he came to the side of the bed. He asked me if I was ok to which I can only remember moaning, "sooo much pain".... Shortly after the male nurse brought the other woman in who had the surgery second and dropped her off in her bed in a similar fashion. She was crying and moaning and looked miserable as well. She started to vomit in her emesis basin and the nurse looked annoyed to be emptying it, but took care of it. I remember feeling very sorry for her, as I thought throwing up after having most of your stomach removed couldn't feel good. Right about that time, I began dry heaving and Joshua quickly grabbed my emesis basin. I didn't sit up completely, just sort of leaned on one side and began to vomit. What came from me was not just mucous like the other patient. I was vomiting bright red thick blood and LOTS of it. Joshua ran for the nurse who told him that it was normal and to be expected but gave me no comfort at all. A female nurse was there now and taking care of probably all of the patients at once that had been done to that point in the day. I vomited a few more times - more bright red blood that was very disturbing to see. My son had to ask three or four times for it to be emptied before she finally came and took care of it. I can only imagine how scary all of that was for my son who had never seen me in so much pain and in what sure looked like dire straights.
One of the final times I vomited that night, I peed a little bit in the bed as I threw up so hard. I had only a hospital gown on and there was nothing to stop it. I told the nurse that I needed to get up and clean up and she literally chastised me for peeing in my bed! :( It's not like I did it on purpose for heaven sake! She tossed a clean hospital gown at me and told me to go to the bathroom to clean up. In shock of the complete lack of nursing care, I drug my IV bag to the bathroom to sit on the toilet and try to clean up and change on my own. I was very dizzy not to mention in a terrible amount of pain as I sat there, trying to fish my IV line and bag through an arm hole and try to clean myself up without passing out. NEVER in the USA would you have a nurse expect you to clean yourself up like that right after surgery. I was stunned and starting to really worry... When I came out of the bathroom, the orderly had changed my sheets and my bed was ready for me, but Joshua was gone. I found out later that they had made him leave to give the orderly more room to change the sheets but then never told him it was ok to go back in afterwards, so I spent 1.5 hours alone wondering where he was. The pain was building and getting to a point where I couldn't take it anymore. Other patients, operated on after me were trickling into the beds around the room where me and my "sleeve sister" were. There was so much suffering. People were crying, moaning, yelling out and begging for help.
We did have a phone in our room and I used it to call my mother at one point in the night as well as my terribly worried husband. I was not able to really speak well as I was in so much pain, but I was able to at least let them know that I was ok and alive. At least there was one thing that had been promised to me as a patient that was working out right.
I couldn't sleep although I wished for it to for a relief from the pain. I guess I was just hurting too much to sleep. I made a point of getting up once every single hour that whole first night to walk as everything I had read to date said that walking was the best way to get the gas out of the abdominal cavity. My roommate and I were sharing an IV pole, so everytime I got up to walk I had to reach up (OUCH) and take the IV bag down from the pole and then close the drip off before walking to avoid my blood backing up into the bag. It wasn't the easiest thing - waddling down the narrow corridor most of the night. Every time there was a nurse or orderly needing to get up or downstairs, I would have to stop, turn sideways and let them by, and then continue on my walk. It hurt so much that much of it is a blur to me now. I just kept doing it because I believed what I had heard - that it would help. I just wanted some kind of relief from this horrible pain! The nurses and staff that stayed at the hospital all that night were watching tv, eating incredibly delicious smelling food (which only made me kind of nauseated at the time) and they seemed to have little to no concern for our well being or comfort. When any of us asked for pain relief, we were told that we couldn't have more than one dose every 6 hours. I found out the following day from a wife that was trying to help her husband that had surgery the same day as me that we were being given only 1cc of Morphine every 6 hours. NOT worth giving. :( It wasn't even enough to make us sleep and relieve even a level of the pain. The crying and moaning from all of the patients continued throughout the night. It was one of the most helpless and hopeless situations I have lived through. I felt trapped, not being properly cared for in a foreign country without even my son with me. I was plenty happy when 7am rolled around. We had been told that we could have nothing by mouth until the next morning at 7am. My mouth was so dry (as it always is after surgery anyway) and I was dying to suck slowly on some ice chips.
The office manager (as I would best describe him) came in about 7:30am and my roommate and I both immediately asked for the ice chips we had been promised. He told me that I would be going back to the hotel and my "sleeve sister" to the recovery house. The hotel?? I had been promised in email that I would recover in a beautiful home with a nurse to care for me 24/7. What was I going to do at the hotel? I felt fearful but only for a moment as I realized that at least I would be with my son in a quiet room to sleep and recover. Paying for the hotel was going to be out of my pocket, even though the surgery fee had been to include lodging for me and my son at the recovery house, as well as meals for my son. I was irritated at the unexpected expense and my mother made a phone call to the program coordinator was well as did my son. We of course never received even so much as a courteous reply or an explanation.
They gave me 15 minutes to get dressed (again alone, without assistance) and then we were escorted back to the bumpy and uncomfortable vans to the hotel. Most of us were either silent or moaning quietly as we made our way through the bumpy streets of Tijuana. We all had small cups of ice chips, but most were vomiting them as fast as they could swallow. I felt a lot of pain and cramping in the area of my stomach, so I swallowed VERY slowly and managed to keep everything down. When we got to the hotel, our loved ones were waiting outside for us. I climbed gingerly out of the van and grabbed a hold of my son and started to cry. What a horrible night I had had! It was so good to see a familiar and caring face!
The driver told us he would be back at 5pm to pick us up and take us back to the hospital for meds and an IV bag. It was very daunting to think of spending the entire first day after surgery in a hotel without any pain meds or nursing care, but we had no choice. We made our way up to the room and I tried to get comfortable, which was not easy. My son went to the front desk and got 2 extra pillows for me which helped a lot, but without any pain medication, I was up and down and not sleeping that whole day.
I would have had no communication with anyone at home if it hadn't been for my IT son who set up a wifi hotspot in our room and called loved ones on Skype to let them see me and talk to me to know I was ok. It was very comforting especially to talk to my husband. He was so worried and it was good for us to see each other while talking. Although I was in too much pain to fly home, I wanted so much to leave and go home right then.
I woke up in recovery without anyone really near me. The young male nurse that had put my IV in told me to rest and he turned the lights out and disappeared. I was in a considerable amount of pain and I remember speaking to him in perfect Spanish telling him "Tengo mucho dolor" which means I have much pain! He told me that I had been medicated and would need to rest. I remember thinking - "OK.. this hurts so much. Maybe if I can sleep a little I will feel better when I wake up."
Two hours later I woke to the nurse (same one again) opening the door of the room and telling me that I needed to get up. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, "Geez... two hours isn't really much sleep after abdominal surgery!" Within seconds, I realized again how much pain I was in and I told the nurse again in Spanish that I was in a huge amount of pain and that I needed my "hijo" (or son).
I figured by this time Joshua was probably very worried unless they had kept him apprised of my condition and I needed the comfort of a loved one terribly at that point. He told me that he would work on that, but first I needed to get up and walk to my bed. "WHAT??" I thought.... WALK? I was so woozy from surgery and an obvious amount of pain meds. All of a sudden the big burly anesthesiologist appeared (at least I *think* it was him. He took my hands and started guiding me up and out of the bed. My legs were so weak under me and I could barely keep my eyes open. He told me constantly to look him in the eye and walk. I really don't know how I stumbled out of that recovery room and walked to my bed, but I did. I was sure that I was going to fall or pass out as I went, but I made it safely with both men leading me. I sat on the bed, and instinctively brought my legs around to lie down. The pain in my belly was sharp and I didn't know if it was the gas I had been warned about by the surgeon (necessary to inflate the abdomen and use the surgical laparoscopic instruments), the incisions or the muscles in my belly that had been cut for surgery, but the pain was searing. I tried to get comfortable but I was so groggy and in so much pain, I just sort of slumped into the bed and tried to pull the sheet over me. The nurse was not helpful in this maneuver and left before I was even comfortable. As the nurse went to leave the room again, I asked him to please bring my son to me.
About 20 minutes later, I found myself in an ever increasing amount of pain. I was literally writhing on the bed and making quiet moaning sounds as they brought my son to me. He looked very concerned and a bit afraid as he came to the side of the bed. He asked me if I was ok to which I can only remember moaning, "sooo much pain".... Shortly after the male nurse brought the other woman in who had the surgery second and dropped her off in her bed in a similar fashion. She was crying and moaning and looked miserable as well. She started to vomit in her emesis basin and the nurse looked annoyed to be emptying it, but took care of it. I remember feeling very sorry for her, as I thought throwing up after having most of your stomach removed couldn't feel good. Right about that time, I began dry heaving and Joshua quickly grabbed my emesis basin. I didn't sit up completely, just sort of leaned on one side and began to vomit. What came from me was not just mucous like the other patient. I was vomiting bright red thick blood and LOTS of it. Joshua ran for the nurse who told him that it was normal and to be expected but gave me no comfort at all. A female nurse was there now and taking care of probably all of the patients at once that had been done to that point in the day. I vomited a few more times - more bright red blood that was very disturbing to see. My son had to ask three or four times for it to be emptied before she finally came and took care of it. I can only imagine how scary all of that was for my son who had never seen me in so much pain and in what sure looked like dire straights.
One of the final times I vomited that night, I peed a little bit in the bed as I threw up so hard. I had only a hospital gown on and there was nothing to stop it. I told the nurse that I needed to get up and clean up and she literally chastised me for peeing in my bed! :( It's not like I did it on purpose for heaven sake! She tossed a clean hospital gown at me and told me to go to the bathroom to clean up. In shock of the complete lack of nursing care, I drug my IV bag to the bathroom to sit on the toilet and try to clean up and change on my own. I was very dizzy not to mention in a terrible amount of pain as I sat there, trying to fish my IV line and bag through an arm hole and try to clean myself up without passing out. NEVER in the USA would you have a nurse expect you to clean yourself up like that right after surgery. I was stunned and starting to really worry... When I came out of the bathroom, the orderly had changed my sheets and my bed was ready for me, but Joshua was gone. I found out later that they had made him leave to give the orderly more room to change the sheets but then never told him it was ok to go back in afterwards, so I spent 1.5 hours alone wondering where he was. The pain was building and getting to a point where I couldn't take it anymore. Other patients, operated on after me were trickling into the beds around the room where me and my "sleeve sister" were. There was so much suffering. People were crying, moaning, yelling out and begging for help.
We did have a phone in our room and I used it to call my mother at one point in the night as well as my terribly worried husband. I was not able to really speak well as I was in so much pain, but I was able to at least let them know that I was ok and alive. At least there was one thing that had been promised to me as a patient that was working out right.
I couldn't sleep although I wished for it to for a relief from the pain. I guess I was just hurting too much to sleep. I made a point of getting up once every single hour that whole first night to walk as everything I had read to date said that walking was the best way to get the gas out of the abdominal cavity. My roommate and I were sharing an IV pole, so everytime I got up to walk I had to reach up (OUCH) and take the IV bag down from the pole and then close the drip off before walking to avoid my blood backing up into the bag. It wasn't the easiest thing - waddling down the narrow corridor most of the night. Every time there was a nurse or orderly needing to get up or downstairs, I would have to stop, turn sideways and let them by, and then continue on my walk. It hurt so much that much of it is a blur to me now. I just kept doing it because I believed what I had heard - that it would help. I just wanted some kind of relief from this horrible pain! The nurses and staff that stayed at the hospital all that night were watching tv, eating incredibly delicious smelling food (which only made me kind of nauseated at the time) and they seemed to have little to no concern for our well being or comfort. When any of us asked for pain relief, we were told that we couldn't have more than one dose every 6 hours. I found out the following day from a wife that was trying to help her husband that had surgery the same day as me that we were being given only 1cc of Morphine every 6 hours. NOT worth giving. :( It wasn't even enough to make us sleep and relieve even a level of the pain. The crying and moaning from all of the patients continued throughout the night. It was one of the most helpless and hopeless situations I have lived through. I felt trapped, not being properly cared for in a foreign country without even my son with me. I was plenty happy when 7am rolled around. We had been told that we could have nothing by mouth until the next morning at 7am. My mouth was so dry (as it always is after surgery anyway) and I was dying to suck slowly on some ice chips.
The office manager (as I would best describe him) came in about 7:30am and my roommate and I both immediately asked for the ice chips we had been promised. He told me that I would be going back to the hotel and my "sleeve sister" to the recovery house. The hotel?? I had been promised in email that I would recover in a beautiful home with a nurse to care for me 24/7. What was I going to do at the hotel? I felt fearful but only for a moment as I realized that at least I would be with my son in a quiet room to sleep and recover. Paying for the hotel was going to be out of my pocket, even though the surgery fee had been to include lodging for me and my son at the recovery house, as well as meals for my son. I was irritated at the unexpected expense and my mother made a phone call to the program coordinator was well as did my son. We of course never received even so much as a courteous reply or an explanation.
They gave me 15 minutes to get dressed (again alone, without assistance) and then we were escorted back to the bumpy and uncomfortable vans to the hotel. Most of us were either silent or moaning quietly as we made our way through the bumpy streets of Tijuana. We all had small cups of ice chips, but most were vomiting them as fast as they could swallow. I felt a lot of pain and cramping in the area of my stomach, so I swallowed VERY slowly and managed to keep everything down. When we got to the hotel, our loved ones were waiting outside for us. I climbed gingerly out of the van and grabbed a hold of my son and started to cry. What a horrible night I had had! It was so good to see a familiar and caring face!
The driver told us he would be back at 5pm to pick us up and take us back to the hospital for meds and an IV bag. It was very daunting to think of spending the entire first day after surgery in a hotel without any pain meds or nursing care, but we had no choice. We made our way up to the room and I tried to get comfortable, which was not easy. My son went to the front desk and got 2 extra pillows for me which helped a lot, but without any pain medication, I was up and down and not sleeping that whole day.
I would have had no communication with anyone at home if it hadn't been for my IT son who set up a wifi hotspot in our room and called loved ones on Skype to let them see me and talk to me to know I was ok. It was very comforting especially to talk to my husband. He was so worried and it was good for us to see each other while talking. Although I was in too much pain to fly home, I wanted so much to leave and go home right then.
Friday, August 3, 2012
Surgery Day!
So after months of waiting, worrying and wondering if this day would ever come, it was finally July 23rd!
The driver from the hospital told us he would pick us up at 6am the next morning, so my oldest son (Joshua) and I got showered and dressed and headed for the lobby promptly at 6. Surprisingly, I had slept pretty well on a hotel mattress with nerves that should have been a mess, but I was pretty calm all in all. Sitting in the lobby, we met and talked to two other women who had had the surgery and were flying home that day. They were very nice and offered many good suggestions on comfort after surgery and they told me to walk and sip - just as all of the other "sleevers" on Vertical Sleeve Talk online that I had met and talked to. They looked pretty strong and that gave me some confidence too. I also met a woman that had come in Sunday as well and was having the surgery early that morning alongside me. Her name was Sandy. We were to be the first two patients that morning and we were getting picked up early so that the doctor could start on us while the other patients were getting picked up at the airport. Sandy was older - nearly 60 and really didn't look like she had much weight to lose, but I wasn't about to judge. If the doctor had agreed to sleeve her, she was good to go.
We waited for the driver and pretty soon 7am rolled around and he still hadn't shown up. The patients getting ready to go home told us that the drivers are never on time, so we didn't worry - just waited.
By 8am I was getting a little bit irritated. I could've been sleeping all of that time! :( Finally around 8:15am the driver rolled in and we were on our way to Jerusalem "hospital". It was a pretty quick 15-20 minute ride over there. I didn't see any armed guards that morning which was a little relieving, but they do unlock the doors to let you in the clinic and lock them behind you which is just not something that we experience in the USA at a medical facility. We sat down in the very small lobby and they checked us in. They tagged our luggage with our names and made sure we were paid in full. It was only a few more minutes and they called us back to be prepped for surgery. I hugged and kissed my son goodbye not knowing how long it might be until I saw him again. He looked a little worried, but I trudged on. By this time, I was nervous myself and questioning my choice in establishments a bit, but I moved on. They had taken my blood the day before upon arriving in Tijuana, so they needed only to weigh me in, take my vitals and do an EKG. I weighed in at a proud 305 that morning, meaning I had lost 28 pounds before surgery which was pretty darn close to my goal! I put on the hospital gown, and they gave me a hat for my head and they wrapped my legs tightly in wraps (to prevent blood clots) and taped those and booties onto my feet. Soon I was given an IV in my hand (they don't seem to do them anywhere else) which wasn't the most comfortable but the nurse was a young man that had probably a little less experience than what I am used to here at home. Within minutes of that, the Cardiologist who spoke no English arrived and they hooked me up for the EKG. Luckily I speak some Spanish and I was able to ask him how my heart looked. He said it was "strong and healthy". Hmmm... not so strong when I kept having chest pains here at home, but I'm sure it was strong enough for surgery and that's all that really mattered.
Once cleared officially for surgery, the surgeon himself - Dr. Almanza - came and introduced himself. He explained briefly what he was going to do and that we should expect some gas pain from the gas they inject into the abdominal cavity to be able to work in there laparoscopically. He then turned to Sandy and asked her how much weight she had lost before surgery. She replied "Three pounds, doctor". He looked at her without any expression briefly, before then asking me the same question. When I replied with an excited, "Twenty-eight pounds!" he smiled and said that he was proud of me and impressed by my "passion for weight loss". In my joking way, I said, "Just make sure and sew my tummy a little bit tighter then, ok"? I had been thinking that a smaller "bougie" as it's called would sure be nice. The "bougie" is the tube that is inserted down the throat by the anesthesiologist to measure against while stapling off the stomach from the part that will be removed. It's a sizing tool, basically. This surgeon almost always uses the same size bougie on all patients. When I said that he smiled and said in his broken English, "I am going to do just that. I will give you a smaller bougie for your passion." I was SO excited! A smaller stomach makes for a tough road as far as eating but I also believe it will make for faster weight loss and I was almost in tears with excitement. :) Dr. Almanza is also known for taking the smaller patients first and doing the bigger ones later, so I knew I would be #2 since Sandy was so much smaller than me.
Dr. Almanza excused himself and it was only moments then before the nurse came and got me for surgery! Number one! We walked down the narrow stairs carrying my IV bag back toward the lobby and I almost asked to say goodbye to my son, but decided to just keep walking and get this done! I saw the swinging OR doors ahead and on them it clearly said in Spanish, Operating Room, no admittance, no food or drink. "Here I go!" I thought as the nurse pushed the doors open. Immediately inside the doors, I was strongly flooded with the delicious smell of Mexican food and I couldn't help but think it was some cruel last joke before surgery. There inside the doors sat about 4-5 Mexican in surgical scrubs, downing what looked like heavenly fajitas! Ok... NOT something you would see in the USA. Weird at best, right? The nurse kind of pushed me gently forward through the next doors which lead into the OR outright. It looked pretty simple, but clean and adequate. She had me lay on the table and started to strap down my arms. I HATE THIS PART. This is the part of surgery I could live without. Feeling a little trapped and totally vulnerable is not a good feeling. I was relieved to immediately see the anesthesiologist. I recognized him from their website. He's a big man with a gentle face. I explained to him that I have horrible nausea and vomiting after surgery and asked if he could please dose me strongly with anti-nausea meds before I wake up to avoid that. Vomiting after stomach surgery sounded so painful.... :( He told me he would and that's the last thing I remember. OUT like a light.
The driver from the hospital told us he would pick us up at 6am the next morning, so my oldest son (Joshua) and I got showered and dressed and headed for the lobby promptly at 6. Surprisingly, I had slept pretty well on a hotel mattress with nerves that should have been a mess, but I was pretty calm all in all. Sitting in the lobby, we met and talked to two other women who had had the surgery and were flying home that day. They were very nice and offered many good suggestions on comfort after surgery and they told me to walk and sip - just as all of the other "sleevers" on Vertical Sleeve Talk online that I had met and talked to. They looked pretty strong and that gave me some confidence too. I also met a woman that had come in Sunday as well and was having the surgery early that morning alongside me. Her name was Sandy. We were to be the first two patients that morning and we were getting picked up early so that the doctor could start on us while the other patients were getting picked up at the airport. Sandy was older - nearly 60 and really didn't look like she had much weight to lose, but I wasn't about to judge. If the doctor had agreed to sleeve her, she was good to go.
We waited for the driver and pretty soon 7am rolled around and he still hadn't shown up. The patients getting ready to go home told us that the drivers are never on time, so we didn't worry - just waited.
By 8am I was getting a little bit irritated. I could've been sleeping all of that time! :( Finally around 8:15am the driver rolled in and we were on our way to Jerusalem "hospital". It was a pretty quick 15-20 minute ride over there. I didn't see any armed guards that morning which was a little relieving, but they do unlock the doors to let you in the clinic and lock them behind you which is just not something that we experience in the USA at a medical facility. We sat down in the very small lobby and they checked us in. They tagged our luggage with our names and made sure we were paid in full. It was only a few more minutes and they called us back to be prepped for surgery. I hugged and kissed my son goodbye not knowing how long it might be until I saw him again. He looked a little worried, but I trudged on. By this time, I was nervous myself and questioning my choice in establishments a bit, but I moved on. They had taken my blood the day before upon arriving in Tijuana, so they needed only to weigh me in, take my vitals and do an EKG. I weighed in at a proud 305 that morning, meaning I had lost 28 pounds before surgery which was pretty darn close to my goal! I put on the hospital gown, and they gave me a hat for my head and they wrapped my legs tightly in wraps (to prevent blood clots) and taped those and booties onto my feet. Soon I was given an IV in my hand (they don't seem to do them anywhere else) which wasn't the most comfortable but the nurse was a young man that had probably a little less experience than what I am used to here at home. Within minutes of that, the Cardiologist who spoke no English arrived and they hooked me up for the EKG. Luckily I speak some Spanish and I was able to ask him how my heart looked. He said it was "strong and healthy". Hmmm... not so strong when I kept having chest pains here at home, but I'm sure it was strong enough for surgery and that's all that really mattered.
Once cleared officially for surgery, the surgeon himself - Dr. Almanza - came and introduced himself. He explained briefly what he was going to do and that we should expect some gas pain from the gas they inject into the abdominal cavity to be able to work in there laparoscopically. He then turned to Sandy and asked her how much weight she had lost before surgery. She replied "Three pounds, doctor". He looked at her without any expression briefly, before then asking me the same question. When I replied with an excited, "Twenty-eight pounds!" he smiled and said that he was proud of me and impressed by my "passion for weight loss". In my joking way, I said, "Just make sure and sew my tummy a little bit tighter then, ok"? I had been thinking that a smaller "bougie" as it's called would sure be nice. The "bougie" is the tube that is inserted down the throat by the anesthesiologist to measure against while stapling off the stomach from the part that will be removed. It's a sizing tool, basically. This surgeon almost always uses the same size bougie on all patients. When I said that he smiled and said in his broken English, "I am going to do just that. I will give you a smaller bougie for your passion." I was SO excited! A smaller stomach makes for a tough road as far as eating but I also believe it will make for faster weight loss and I was almost in tears with excitement. :) Dr. Almanza is also known for taking the smaller patients first and doing the bigger ones later, so I knew I would be #2 since Sandy was so much smaller than me.
Dr. Almanza excused himself and it was only moments then before the nurse came and got me for surgery! Number one! We walked down the narrow stairs carrying my IV bag back toward the lobby and I almost asked to say goodbye to my son, but decided to just keep walking and get this done! I saw the swinging OR doors ahead and on them it clearly said in Spanish, Operating Room, no admittance, no food or drink. "Here I go!" I thought as the nurse pushed the doors open. Immediately inside the doors, I was strongly flooded with the delicious smell of Mexican food and I couldn't help but think it was some cruel last joke before surgery. There inside the doors sat about 4-5 Mexican in surgical scrubs, downing what looked like heavenly fajitas! Ok... NOT something you would see in the USA. Weird at best, right? The nurse kind of pushed me gently forward through the next doors which lead into the OR outright. It looked pretty simple, but clean and adequate. She had me lay on the table and started to strap down my arms. I HATE THIS PART. This is the part of surgery I could live without. Feeling a little trapped and totally vulnerable is not a good feeling. I was relieved to immediately see the anesthesiologist. I recognized him from their website. He's a big man with a gentle face. I explained to him that I have horrible nausea and vomiting after surgery and asked if he could please dose me strongly with anti-nausea meds before I wake up to avoid that. Vomiting after stomach surgery sounded so painful.... :( He told me he would and that's the last thing I remember. OUT like a light.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Trip to Mexico!
I worked July 19th, 20th and 21st doing my regular Realtor work as well as the part time karaoke hosting. It seemed to keep my mind a little more busy and time slipped away much more quickly than I had expected. I worked until 2am on the morning of the 22nd, and the driver picked my oldest son (Joshua) and I up at 7:40am that morning. I was a little tired, but so excited to leave and begin my new life!
The ride to the airport that Sunday morning was smooth and uneventful. Our driver drove us there in a big black SUV (maybe a Tahoe?) and we looked like we were being escorted somewhere by the FBI.. LOL We made lots of jokes about that to the uniformed driver who was obviously well trained to be serious and quiet. :)
We got to the airport with plenty of time to check and proceeded to the First Class baggage check-in and then to the First Class security area. Amazing how they let passengers paying so much for their tickets to move much more quickly through the security check points. I never can afford to fly First Class but really wanted to have the room and comfort there and back. I thought it might be extremely important especially on the way home right after surgery.
We got to our gate and waited for a very short time and we began boarding the plane to San Diego!
Alaska Airlines treated us with lots of dignity and class. I have to say that flying First Class is SO worth the money. What an experience! It was a little sad to watch my son eat the amazing food we were served as I sipped on my water.... uggghhhh... I did fine though!
Our trip to San Diego was uneventful and seemed to go pretty quickly. Before we knew it, we had landed at San Diego International Airport and we collected our luggage easily and made the phone call to the doctor's office coordinator to ask them to come and pick us up. They would be there soon, so we began the LONG and I mean LONG walk to the Jet Blue terminal which was on the complete opposite side of the airport. I was tired (no food for 2 weeks will do that to you) and my son even lugging all of our bags was way ahead of me. I felt much like a submissive Japanese wife trying my best to stay behind him but not getting too close. LOL
Finally we made it to the pick up spot - exhausted and hot. The driver came very soon after we got there thankfully and we loaded into the van marked "Jerusalem Hospital" and began the journey to Tijuana, just across the border. The driver spoke some English, but not a lot. He navigated the area well and avoided lots of traffic on I-5 as we weaved our way across the border a little further than the most popular spot at San Ysidro. The Mexican border guard didn't ask to see our passports and just did a quick search of the back of the van and we were once again on our way.
The driver took me directly to the hospital for a pre-op blood draw. Even knowing ahead of time what to expect could not have softened what I saw next...
The "hospital" was not a hospital at all, but a very tiny two story clinic wedged in between an Office Depot store and a furniture rental shop. I gulped a little bit and my son asked nervously, "Is this where they do the surgery or is this just where they are taking your blood?" I explained that this was the hospital and he looked very worried. The blood draw was very typical and smooth and we were quickly back in the van on our way to the hotel for the night. As we left the parking lot, I almost flipped out to see several men wearing all black and holding assault rifles! IN THE PARKING LOT. Neither one of us said another word on the way to the hotel. All of our joking the whole way down and enjoying the trip was ended.
We checked in to the hotel and I collapsed on the bed and bawled my eyes out as my son used the restroom. "Oh my gawd... what have I done??" I said to him. He was incredulous and neither one of us knew what to think. We went to the hotel restaurant to have some dinner (or at least he did - I had soup) and talked a little bit. Joshua worked hard to calm my nerves and bring some sense and laughter to this scary situation. What in the world were they guarding? Is that typical? Is the area that dangerous that the guards are necessary? So many questions flooded our minds but we worked hard to relax.
The driver had told us that he would pick us up at 6am the next morning, so we went to bed relatively early in preparation for the big day - when my life would start anew as a thin and fit person!
The ride to the airport that Sunday morning was smooth and uneventful. Our driver drove us there in a big black SUV (maybe a Tahoe?) and we looked like we were being escorted somewhere by the FBI.. LOL We made lots of jokes about that to the uniformed driver who was obviously well trained to be serious and quiet. :)
We got to the airport with plenty of time to check and proceeded to the First Class baggage check-in and then to the First Class security area. Amazing how they let passengers paying so much for their tickets to move much more quickly through the security check points. I never can afford to fly First Class but really wanted to have the room and comfort there and back. I thought it might be extremely important especially on the way home right after surgery.
We got to our gate and waited for a very short time and we began boarding the plane to San Diego!
Alaska Airlines treated us with lots of dignity and class. I have to say that flying First Class is SO worth the money. What an experience! It was a little sad to watch my son eat the amazing food we were served as I sipped on my water.... uggghhhh... I did fine though!
Our trip to San Diego was uneventful and seemed to go pretty quickly. Before we knew it, we had landed at San Diego International Airport and we collected our luggage easily and made the phone call to the doctor's office coordinator to ask them to come and pick us up. They would be there soon, so we began the LONG and I mean LONG walk to the Jet Blue terminal which was on the complete opposite side of the airport. I was tired (no food for 2 weeks will do that to you) and my son even lugging all of our bags was way ahead of me. I felt much like a submissive Japanese wife trying my best to stay behind him but not getting too close. LOL
Finally we made it to the pick up spot - exhausted and hot. The driver came very soon after we got there thankfully and we loaded into the van marked "Jerusalem Hospital" and began the journey to Tijuana, just across the border. The driver spoke some English, but not a lot. He navigated the area well and avoided lots of traffic on I-5 as we weaved our way across the border a little further than the most popular spot at San Ysidro. The Mexican border guard didn't ask to see our passports and just did a quick search of the back of the van and we were once again on our way.
The driver took me directly to the hospital for a pre-op blood draw. Even knowing ahead of time what to expect could not have softened what I saw next...
The "hospital" was not a hospital at all, but a very tiny two story clinic wedged in between an Office Depot store and a furniture rental shop. I gulped a little bit and my son asked nervously, "Is this where they do the surgery or is this just where they are taking your blood?" I explained that this was the hospital and he looked very worried. The blood draw was very typical and smooth and we were quickly back in the van on our way to the hotel for the night. As we left the parking lot, I almost flipped out to see several men wearing all black and holding assault rifles! IN THE PARKING LOT. Neither one of us said another word on the way to the hotel. All of our joking the whole way down and enjoying the trip was ended.
We checked in to the hotel and I collapsed on the bed and bawled my eyes out as my son used the restroom. "Oh my gawd... what have I done??" I said to him. He was incredulous and neither one of us knew what to think. We went to the hotel restaurant to have some dinner (or at least he did - I had soup) and talked a little bit. Joshua worked hard to calm my nerves and bring some sense and laughter to this scary situation. What in the world were they guarding? Is that typical? Is the area that dangerous that the guards are necessary? So many questions flooded our minds but we worked hard to relax.
The driver had told us that he would pick us up at 6am the next morning, so we went to bed relatively early in preparation for the big day - when my life would start anew as a thin and fit person!
Liquid Diet Didn't Do Me In
I know it's been awhile. I know that I should have blogged much sooner than now to explain my journey to Mexico, the surgery and my post-op experiences. I have just honestly been wiped out. I will start tonight and explain all that has happened since my last blog post.
I continued on the liquid diet and although my body was obviously hungry and weak, I really no longer felt hunger toward the end. It's almost like I had finally surrendered and accepted that there was not going to be any food in my belly for at least the next 3 weeks. I did really well with only about a .25 ounce piece of cheese a couple of nights to squelch the fire of burning stomach acids. I took in many protein shakes - at least 3 a day - to keep my protein at a healthy level and I drank a ton of water.
As I packed to leave for my trip to Mexico for surgery, I weighed myself and was very happy to see a 25 pound weight loss! I had hoped to lose 30-33 pounds, but I was pretty happy to see that chunk of weight gone!
I can see now looking back that it was excellent "training" for the weeks to come post-op when my body would be even more weak just having had surgery and I was going to be accustomed to the liquid diet already, which would help me tremendously. It was all well worth it, despite the crying, hunger, hunger pains, frustration and crabbiness.
I continued on the liquid diet and although my body was obviously hungry and weak, I really no longer felt hunger toward the end. It's almost like I had finally surrendered and accepted that there was not going to be any food in my belly for at least the next 3 weeks. I did really well with only about a .25 ounce piece of cheese a couple of nights to squelch the fire of burning stomach acids. I took in many protein shakes - at least 3 a day - to keep my protein at a healthy level and I drank a ton of water.
As I packed to leave for my trip to Mexico for surgery, I weighed myself and was very happy to see a 25 pound weight loss! I had hoped to lose 30-33 pounds, but I was pretty happy to see that chunk of weight gone!
I can see now looking back that it was excellent "training" for the weeks to come post-op when my body would be even more weak just having had surgery and I was going to be accustomed to the liquid diet already, which would help me tremendously. It was all well worth it, despite the crying, hunger, hunger pains, frustration and crabbiness.
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