WARNING.. Long read... But I feel I have to write this....
I have debated on posting this.. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to admit about myself. That everything I wanted is falling apart.. And I feel like such a failure. I started this process with a goal! Be that patient that is a rock star! Walk when I should. Drink when I should... Eat the exactly right thing at the right time... Take super good care of myself.. My fiancé would be the one who was by my side the entire time... And It wouldn't hurt that much.
In the beginning Everything was going according to plan. It was a really rough first day... But the second was so much better! And the third!! A breeze. No one in the hospital could believe how well I was doing. The Bariatric team all made special trips just to say hi! Everyone was so happy. Assuring me I was gonna rock this recovery.
While in the hospital.. My fiancé was there for maybe a few hours two of the three days.. And wouldn't come near me... Wouldn't even look at me. This just broke me. But I pushed through. When I came home... Our room was so dirty my mother wouldn't even let me stay in it out of fear of infection. No bother. I slept int the recliner anyways (which let me tell you... A godsend!) and he said he was "very sick and didn't want to get me sick" so he went to stay at his parents. Still raw from everything... In tons of pain... And feeling so alone... I thought "fine, no big deal! My family is here and will take care of me" and god bless my little sister. That girl changed my bandages 4 times a day like clockwork. Never complaining how gross my JP drain was... Or how needy I was. She made sure I got my fluids in. And I am so lucky for her.
But I kept thinking..."he should be here!" "He should be the one doing this!" If he loved me so much... How could he be like this? So I went on with a broken heart.
My family didn't Celebrate Christmas this year... My other sister is down in Texas and they said no celebrating without everyone... Which I was honestly fine with... It's not about the presents right? It's about the joy of the season. It's about family. Except for the fact that all my mother did was cry.
The Friday after Christmas everyone but my sister left for vacation in Florida. You see my mother couldn't take the day of my surgery off because she had to save her PTO for vacation. (That's also why she didn't come to a single doctors appointment or seminar before the surgery). Priorities right? So my sister and I were alone for what seemed like forever.
To make it even better I started getting so ill. My wound hurt. The stitches on that pert ocular site looked wrong. Very tight and too big. There should have been three small instead of two big ones that were strained. To top it off I had a terrible fever... And I couldn't keep anything down. I broke down and let my fiancé come home. That night I woke up on the living room floor. Severe pain in my surgical site and sweating bullets. They took my temp which was 100.1
They called my doctor and he confirmed it defiantly sounded like an infection. We were pulled in first thing that morning to see the surgeon. He walked in and treated me like an inconvenience. He began telling me all about how he had just treated a woman who thought hers was infected... And of course it wasn't. And he was sure it's fine... He pulled off my warping and took one look at it. His eyes got a little wider and his voice more serious.
"Haven't had one of these in a while. Very rarely actually" he said in a very nonchalant manner. Great just what I need to hear! He told me that the wound had to be packed (sorry for the gross detail) it was so painful. I asked for my someone to get my sister. Since she changed my bandages and there would be no way for me to do it myself if I can't see. He blew me off and just went for it.
He just started stuffing gauze in with a long Q-Tip almost 6 inches deep. Of course big chested ladies understand that it's hard to see over the Tatas so I couldn't see what he was doing. He told me no antibiotics that the surgeon on call ordered for me the night before. I was in so much pain I just ignored his obvious indifference and left.
The next morning we had to change it. My sister had no clue how to pack it.. And I was the blind leading the blind. We dressed it the best we could and called the center. No one answered. The answering service wasn't even connecting. And then I fainted again. Amy sister called the hospital three times. Only to get ignored and forwarded to the nonfunctional answering service. Out of options we called the nurse in ER. They were very concerned with my temp and getting the wound packed and that the doctor didn't show is how. She told us that because it was a weekend I couldn't wait the two days for the practice to be open and to come in. She was so nice and told is to get to the Er and they would show us.
I got there... And upon being wheeled into the entrance immediately got sick. Needless to say the receptionist and I didn't hit it off. I feel pretty bad about her desk :/
I saw two doctors who both looked at my bandages and looked very concerned. They pumped me up on IV fluids and antibiotics immediately. I told them 4 times I am allergic to penicillin. The nurse starts to hook up this bag when a woman in a white lab coat runs into the room. She grabs the bag out of the nurses hand and pulls him just outside of my door. "She's allergic to penicillin. That cod have been really bad. Throw the bag out and credit her account. I'll figure out what to give her!"
Close call huh?
Honestly after the three bags of fluids I did feel better. I had been so dehydrated my skin was flaking.
They told me that my surgeon was busy and sending his intern. So in walks this woman. I had my right leg bent at the knee and tucked under the left under the blanket. She looks at me wide eyed. I had no clue you were An amputee! I swear I would have seen that In your chart. We all looked at her dumbstruck... I dryly muttered... "I'm not?!" She stared feeling the blanket over the empty bed below my leg looking for the rest of my leg asking " where is it?" I just looked at her and unfolded it.
Needless to say not a good first impression. She barely let me talk. Then proceeded to ignore me and jam Q-tips into my wound to "open it up!" I'm pretty sure it was open considering I had been through tons of gauze just while being there three hours. It hurt so bad I felt sick. She proceeded to tell me that they shouldn't have given me the antibiotic... And I basically needed to suck it up and let them jam me full of gauze three times a day for a few weeks. I was so upset I just stopped talking. After 20 minutes of condescension she told me... I'm inclined to send you home. Let me touch base with your surgeon.
So I waited. Two minutes later she throws open my door and says very loudly... "You didn't tell me you were throwing up." Like I had the chance?! I had only told every doctor and every nurse and been sick there.. Let's play a game called "WHO DIDNT REALLY READ THE CHART". She just bluntly told me... Well that could change you going home.. Let me check with the doctor.
Well she strolls by almost 30 minutes later dressed in surgical gear and nonchalantly says "you can go! They'll be in to discharge you". And leaves as fast as she came.
An hour later I was home. I felt like I was such an inconvenience. That's not fair to a patient. I get they do stuff like this every day... But here I am scared and in pain... And infected (which is apparently rare) and all I get is lectured by a woman who can tell a leg tucked under a blanket? I'm so upset I'm afraid to even call my surgeon. I was supposed to see him 2 days later and was so traumatized and depressed I just never made the appointment. My follow up is in a few days and I don't even want to deal with him. I'm just so fed up and so tired of throwing up at least 3 times a day for a month.
I am a failure. I feel so raw. I literally feel like I'm wasting away. Not just physically... But I'm a shell of the happy person I was. I just feel so lost.
I am not writing this to discourage anyone from the surgery! I am dropping weight so fast and I m sure I will look back at all of this healthy and happy and think it was well worth it... But I'm really struggling right now. And unhappy just isn't me. I don't know what to do... Get a new doctor? Ride it out? Confront my surgeon about his bedside manner? I just don't know. ????