Second postop day
Oct. 23rd, 2013 01:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carbonelMonday afternoon, Pat WINOLJ drove me to Methodist Hospital for a septoplasty/turbinoplasty -- basically, a nose job without the cosmetic bits.
There was much waiting around and boredom, alleviated by the copy of Madeleine Robins' Sold for Endless Rue that I brought with me. Finally, I got to walk to the OR and hop on the gurney. There was a hiatus, and I woke up in recovery. They kept asking me about pain levels, and any time I said it was over 4 (on a scale of 10), they pushed something into the IV. Eventually my blood pressure spiked to 180/many, and they gave me something for that. I think they overcompensated, because the next thing I recall was being reminded to breathe (I did), and my heart rate was down in the 50s.
Sometime later, I was taken to recovery, and I had some raspberry sherbet to eat. It was remarkable how much energy it took to do that. I didn't even think about asking for my book, though an audiobook might have been useful. After a couple of hours of that, Pat got called again to pick me up, and I spent the night at her house. I was not the best house guest ever -- no conversation to speak of, and up every couple of hours to the bathroom we shared to change the dressing. The place did, however, come with very fine hot and cold running cats.
Yesterday morning, I held off on the pain meds so I could drive home, which I did -- very carefully -- and arrived safely. More lying in bed ensued. My mother recommended ice packs, which I couldn't tolerate, but cold damp washcloths are currently the Best Thing Ever.
Today, I switched from oxycodone to ibuprofen, and have recovered most of my brain, if still not much energy. I haven't kept anything down since Sunday night, and have contemplated (and rejected) chicken soup and ice cream and BRAT. If I could figure out a way to bottle this feeling -- not nauseated, just a profound disinterest in food -- I could become a billionaire.
I have, however, drunk lots of liquids. Something seems to be wrong with my time sense, because it's been about 20 hours from when I got out of bed this morning at 9 am to now (1:30 pm). If only that could happen when life was too busy and I had the energy to get things done.
Tomorrow I go back to the doctor for a postop checkup, and (I hope) to have the nasal splints removed.
But for now, I think I'm going back to bed.
There was much waiting around and boredom, alleviated by the copy of Madeleine Robins' Sold for Endless Rue that I brought with me. Finally, I got to walk to the OR and hop on the gurney. There was a hiatus, and I woke up in recovery. They kept asking me about pain levels, and any time I said it was over 4 (on a scale of 10), they pushed something into the IV. Eventually my blood pressure spiked to 180/many, and they gave me something for that. I think they overcompensated, because the next thing I recall was being reminded to breathe (I did), and my heart rate was down in the 50s.
Sometime later, I was taken to recovery, and I had some raspberry sherbet to eat. It was remarkable how much energy it took to do that. I didn't even think about asking for my book, though an audiobook might have been useful. After a couple of hours of that, Pat got called again to pick me up, and I spent the night at her house. I was not the best house guest ever -- no conversation to speak of, and up every couple of hours to the bathroom we shared to change the dressing. The place did, however, come with very fine hot and cold running cats.
Yesterday morning, I held off on the pain meds so I could drive home, which I did -- very carefully -- and arrived safely. More lying in bed ensued. My mother recommended ice packs, which I couldn't tolerate, but cold damp washcloths are currently the Best Thing Ever.
Today, I switched from oxycodone to ibuprofen, and have recovered most of my brain, if still not much energy. I haven't kept anything down since Sunday night, and have contemplated (and rejected) chicken soup and ice cream and BRAT. If I could figure out a way to bottle this feeling -- not nauseated, just a profound disinterest in food -- I could become a billionaire.
I have, however, drunk lots of liquids. Something seems to be wrong with my time sense, because it's been about 20 hours from when I got out of bed this morning at 9 am to now (1:30 pm). If only that could happen when life was too busy and I had the energy to get things done.
Tomorrow I go back to the doctor for a postop checkup, and (I hope) to have the nasal splints removed.
But for now, I think I'm going back to bed.
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no subject
Date: 2013-10-23 08:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-23 08:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-23 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-10-24 01:47 am (UTC)Glad you came through ok. Hope this fixes all sorts of things. Take care.
no subject
Date: 2013-10-24 06:36 pm (UTC)K.
no subject
Date: 2013-10-24 06:40 am (UTC)Yeah, pain and pain meds can make so many things a bit weird, including time.
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Date: 2013-10-24 06:37 pm (UTC)K.