Okay, I'm three days postop now and feeling pretty darned good. I'm not ready to run laps around the neighborhood, but hey, I wasn't doing that before surgery either. So, for those of you who are interested, here comes a play-by-play. For those of you who aren't interested, here comes a play-by-play, so scroll on by-by-by.
Getting up at 4:45 am sucks. Yep, that's my profound opinion. It ess-you-see-kay-ess, sucks. But since we needed to leave the house around 5:30 to arrive at the hospital by 6:00 and I wanted to shower and blow dry my hair (hey, I couldn't wear makeup, so my hair had to look at least okay, okay?), then I had to rise and shine. Okay, maybe not so much shinin' but I did at least manage the risin'. Getting up to the third floor surgery department right at 6:00 sharp (we're a military family - promptness is second nature) I didn't have to wait; we were taken right back to a private room where I changed into my lovely hospital nightie and climbed into bed. At this point, the nerves were really starting to get to me; not so much because of the surgery itself, but because of knowing that my "baby" is going back into war. So, mixing the common stress of surgery and the stress of sending a child into combat, meant I got misty-eyed a couple of times. The nursing staff was wonderful, though. We explained what was going on and the already-kindness I was being shown was multiplied.
Everything to come was explained in detail to me several times and I had many chances to ask questions. I spoke with an anesthesiologist and then Dr. K himself came in to check on me before I was wheeled back. The IV was put in place (good job on that one too - first try and hardly a pinch!), I was given a shot of blood thinner (it didn't hurt but it sho' did leave a bruise), and then I was given some la-la juice through the IV before I was taken back. Let me tell y'all somethin', that la-la juice is a wondrous thing.
When I got to the OR I was awake enough still to roll over so the gown could be removed and awake enough to remember (I think) trying to swat away the anesthesiologist putting the gas mask over my face. Let me defend myself here: I was told to let my mind wander to a happy place, away from son going to war, and then to take deep breaths as the mask was put over my nose and mouth. I didn't have a chance to find that "happy place"! I wanted to say, "Hey, give me a sec, will ya?!" Instead, I....fell...fast...asleep. *Snore*
Next thing I know, I'm in the recovery room being asked over and over how I feel, if I'm warm enough, if I'm cool enough, etc., etc., ad infinitum. Now, for me personally, fighting the haze of the anesthesia is always one of the yuckiest parts of postop. Once that stuff is out of my system I'm usually pretty good to go.
Finally I got wheeled upstairs to my private (thank you, insurance company powers-that-be) room. I had to scootch over from one bed to another, but that wasn't a problem. Also, Dr. K's office orders Zofran, an anti-nausea medication, to be administered during surgery and every four hours thereafter. Vomiting is something you want to avoid after LAP-BAND placement. I was also given Lortab (hydrocodone) for pain control, in its liquid form so I could swallow it and not worry about any kind of blockage.
I almost outdid myself, though. Maybe I wanted to be Super Patient or somethin', I don't know, but I had it in my head that if the doctor's office wanted me walking or at least sitting in a chair by six hours postop, then I was gonna one-up 'em and do it even earlier. The nurses talked me out of it at 4 hours postop, but then at five hours I talked them into letting me give it a whirl. Oy. Big mistake. I old-lady shuffled about eight steps and then started retching. Accoding to the nurse, my face went pure white. Luckily, my hubby was right there at my side and helped guide me to a chair. Okay, they were right, I was wrong. I opted to wait for a little more time to pass and then tried again...SUCCESS! After that, it became my goal to walk two laps every two hours and sit up in the chair for periods of time in between. Medical people aren't lyin' when they say walking helps ease postop pain; it really, really does.
My son (the one who's deploying) and his fiance came by with their baby that night and spent a couple hours visiting with me. Yes, I felt like having visitors.
Probably the biggest mistake I made was trying to be "macho" Super Patient again and let several hours go by before asking for another dose of pain medication. Y'know what? I'm not a toughie. And when I hurt I get, well, let's just say "female doggish".
Thankfully, my hubby was ready, willing and able to spend the night with me. I could have gotten out of bed on my own, but dealing with the catheter bag, the battery pack from the electrodes scattered on my chest, and unplugging and plugging the IV thingiemajig, much less juggling that darned IV pole, would've been overwhelming.
Now, here's how I maneuvered. I would raise the head of the bed all the way up and then ease my legs over the side of the bed. HH (Handsome Hubby) would take my hand and gently help pull me to standing. Getting back into bed was a bit more challenging so what I ended up doing was climbing back into bed on my knees. I could hold onto the foot of the bed for leverage and then could "walk" on my knees to the position I needed to be in on the bed, there were the upper part curves into the lower part. All I had to do then was park my keester there in the fold of the bed and then uncurl my legs. Now, I couldn't have done that if I'd had a "neighbor" 'cause it sets a full moon to a'shinin', but hey, it worked!
Once I was up and walking they came and removed the catheter. I swan, I heard the angels singin' "Glory Hallelujah". The IV was left in, of course, both to keep me hydrated as well as to provide entry for the Zofran and an antibiotic.
Because I'd had an "oozy" problem (not to be confused with "seepy", "weepy", or "gooky") during surgery (my blood didn't want to clot), a phlebotomist came in every four hours to draw blood. In retrospect I'll admit it's scary, but keep in mind that no surgery is without risk. Anyhow, there were also the routine visits to check vitals, etc. Hospitals are not conducive to a good night's sleep, but hey, they were on top of things and always courteous and respectful.
Before discharge I had to undergo a barium swallow. Eeeeeyyyyyuck. Actually, the ride down to radiology was the worst part. For some reason, every bump seemed magnified and it was also unbearably (for me anyhow) warm. The nursing staff in that department brought me cool compresses, which helped immensely. The barium itself wasn't so boy-howdy awful, probably because I only had to take two swallows. Thank goodness for that 'cause I don't think I could've handled anymore than that. Okay, the x-ray showed that I didn't have any leaky valves or faucets, so I was good to go and cleared for discharge. Home again, home again, jiggity jig!
Now, I'll admit that I was tired when I got home. However, that probably wasn't so much from the surgery as it was from not being able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time in the hospital. I will tell y'all that I was able to seat myself fairly comfortably and get out of a chair without help. I was also able to get into and out of bed by myself. No surgery is ever completely pain-free, but laparoscopic surgery beats the open kind hands down.
It's funny. My surgery was done four days ago and I'm already glad I did it. I'm able to take in two ounces of food at a time (your own doctor will have his specific food guide), and I'm not hungry. And this is before the first fill!
So for anyone thinking about undergoing this surgery, my advice is to do what I did: research, research, research. Talk to people who've been through it. Nothing prepares you for success like knowledge, so be knowledgeable. And don't be afraid to ask questions.
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