Tag Archives: surgery

Mistrust, Disgust & Humiliation, Part Two

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Well, my appointment with the orthopedic specialist came and I’m glad it’s over! What started out as a consultation about my knees, turned into a fat-shaming session — in less than 5 minutes!

First, he asked me what he could do for me and I told him that my doctor had been telling me for years that I’m too young for knee replacement surgery but that I’m in severe pain and having mobility issues. I told him I need help.

He said, “Well, Debbie. You’re not too young for knee replacement surgery.” I felt good for a split second that I was finally going to get some help. Ha. Short lived. He added, “However, you’re not a good candidate for knee replacement because you’re too heavy.” See, less than 5 minutes.

If I’m such a risk why did I just have surgery last year? 

He continued to tell me how I needed to count calories and eat smaller portions. I sat there in total disbelief because this man has the balls to think he knows me?? I tried to explain to him that I have been struggling with my weight since my first child was born and I’ve not had much success in losing weight. He interrupted me to tell me I needed to eat less calories. I said, “If it were that simple I wouldn’t be fat right now, now would I?” He said, “Let me tell you a story and see if it makes sense to you, Debbie.” He proceeded to tell me about his sister, who was overweight and was suffering from knee pain. She was a widow and she ate out all the time. She didn’t cook for just herself. He said one day he went to visit her and she had lost a lot of weight. He asked her how she did it and she told him that she would get her food at restaurants, eat half and save the rest for lunch the next day. Of course it makes sense but….

I tried to tell him that I’ve been trying to get help losing weight multiple times because I just can’t seem to lose. I told him I think there’s something else going on. “Eat less calories,” he said. Seeing red! I told him that I can’t even exercise like I need to! “You don’t need to exercise to lose weight, Debbie!” I was getting angrier by the minute. I mean, sure you can lose weight without exercising but if you have too much extra weight and you don’t exercise you’re going to end up with loose skin hanging all over your body! Exercise and diet go hand in hand. Both are important – says every fitness and nutrition expert in the world! They can’t all be wrong!! Besides, it wasn’t just exercise that I couldn’t do. I was having trouble with daily activities! My knees are severely damaged! You just don’t realize how important your knees are until you can’t even pivot, or get up out of a chair!

I tried to tell this man, who has the bedside manner of Donald Trump, that I don’t eat the way he thinks I eat! He says, “I don’t think anything about you, Debbie.” I said, “Obviously you have this preconceived notion that I eat more than I should and that I eat a lot of calories!” He interrupted me, yet again. “Eat less calories, Debbie. Calories are the key.” I interrupted him this time and said, “Let me tell you what I eat!” I tried to explain to him that I drink lots of water, watch my sugar consumption, watch my portion sizes. I don’t eat fast food. I don’t eat a lot of processed crap. I don’t drink soda. I don’t eat dessert. I eat healthy foods and lots of veggies, especially salads, a lot of them. One day a week I go out and eat.” He still insists that I need to eat less calories. How many calories does a freakin’ vegetable salad have? GEEZ! 

I could feel that I was about to shut down. Nearly in tears I said, “Based on what you have told me here today, if my doctor would have sent me to see a specialist 6 years and 50 pounds ago, then I would have had the surgery and be on my feet walking again like I use to.” I said, “I use to be a cross-country backpacker and now I can’t even take a short walk to the mailbox!” He said, “Well, things are different now.”

I shut down before I could tell him that I ate veggie salads, grilled chicken, tuna and soups for the better part of 3 years – between gall bladder issues and my hiatal hernia repair surgery last year – because I couldn’t eat anything else without feeling bloated or having a phantom gallbladder attack. Do you want to know how much weight I lost doing that for nearly 3 years? 15 whole freakin’ pounds. 15!! Tell me there’s not something else going on…..

I stood my ground with this doctor for a lot longer than I thought possible. My therapist advised me beforehand not to shut down. I have a tendency to do that when I feel I am not being heard. What’s the point if you’re not being heard, right? Anyway, I found myself raising my voice numerous times, talking over this so-called doctor because he kept interrupting me. I could not believe how rude and insensitive he was. I had had enough.

When he got up to leave the room, he stuck his hand out to shake my hand. Not going there, doc. I told him to just get out so I could get dressed and leave.

Afterward, which was nearly 3pm, Dad and I went out to eat. We hadn’t eaten ALL DAY but I felt so ashamed and guilty for even thinking about eating! How dare someone make another human being feel that way! I used the restroom when we got to the restaurant and I felt like I was going to throw up. This man made me feel ashamed of myself, ashamed of what I look like, ashamed of who I am. He doesn’t know me, my struggles, or anything about me.

Doctors seem to only see black and white, or what they know and what they think they know. The only doctor I have ever had that actually helped me with my weight problem was the first one who actually looked a little deeper into what might be going on. He checked my thyroid, found it extremely low, put me on meds and I lost 35 pounds fairly quickly but then I hit a plateau and I moved away and now I’m stuck with donkey doctors.

I’m done with them all. I decided in a last ditch effort, I will try NutriSystem. I’ve tried just about every other diet on the planet except for the ones you have to pay for. Couldn’t afford it, still can’t, but I have to try. I start tomorrow.

 

A Helping of Thanks with Sarcasm on the Side

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I would like to thank the medical profession for not helping me in the last 10 years. I don’t know how I could possibly live my life without pain.

A special thanks to my doctor, who has been telling me for years that I am too young for knee replacement surgery. This allowed the bone damage to worsen and the pain to increase, rendering me unable to work and to become more sedentary every year. I love the ‘fat me’ that I have become due to decreased activity.

I can’t forget to thank the referral doctor for the humiliation, which is good for the soul I’ve heard. Thanks for pointing out that I am fat. I would have never known that without your ‘help.’ I really appreciate the ‘fat shaming’ because without it I would have felt good about myself that day. Oh, and please pass more thanks on to my doctor because NOW I know that 50 lbs. ago I could have had knee replacement surgery regardless of my age. I really am happy that I’ve suffered all these years so you both could make sure your bedside manners, understanding, and compassion were top notch.

Special thanks to my best friend, fondly named Michael Cane, who has been faithfully by my side for the last 4 years. Without Michael, I would have fallen more than the 4 times I did. The embarrassment of those 4 times was more than enough times to make me feel hopeless.

Of course, I can’t forget Peter Potty, who has been my constant companion during the night. It’s nice when I don’t have to walk to the bathroom at 1am, 3am, and 5am when I have to pee.

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In all seriousness, I am thankful to wake up every morning, albeit with pain. I am thankful for a lot of things but it sure as hell isn’t the medical care I have received in the past 10 years!!! It’s no wonder people don’t go to the doctor. It’s no wonder they don’t trust doctors! I’m in that very same line now.

My Ordeal – Part Two

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If you haven’t read Part One, you can find it here: https://echo11am.wordpress.com/2015/07/11/my-ordeal/

Last month, I realized my appointment for the second EGD/Colonoscopy was coming up! Immediately, I started to worry. My anxiety level went up. I started obsessing over what was going to happen. I was having some digestive issues for months and I started to wonder if there really was something wrong with me. Could my doctor have been right all along?

I Googled my symptoms – bad idea – and thought I might have Crohn’s or Celiac. Maybe it was Ulcerative Colitis or Diverticulitis. The information I found was telling me that many people don’t have symptoms or maybe just one. I kept going around and around with my thoughts. I was arguing with myself. I was no longer having low iron issues. I hadn’t been retested BUT I was no longer experiencing extreme fatigue or insomnia. My diet had improved since my hernia repair surgery and I had stopped taking the iron supplements. If I had blood loss inside, as my doc said was a possibility, wouldn’t I still be extremely fatigued on a daily basis, especially since I stopped the iron supplement? Then I thought of the dreaded “C” word. I prayed every night for weeks, “Please God, don’t let it be cancer. Let it be anything else, but not cancer.” All the research I did, all the talking to myself, all the worrisome thoughts I had, did me no good at all. I had myself worked up into a frenzy by the time the procedure date came!

When the hospital contacted me for registration/admit information, I was instructed not to take my pain medication. Here we go again! I told the woman I had already spoken with the doctor and he said I could take it. She argued with me. “Oh no, ma’am. You can’t take that medication. It’s an NSAID.” I told her, “I know what it is and I already talked to the doctor about it. He told me I could take it. In fact, I had just a few days prior to this called him and verified that as fact.” This went on for a good ten minutes. I told her to call him and ask him herself! She said, “We aren’t allowed to do that ma’am. You will need to contact him personally and verify.” I was getting a little – ok a LOT aggravated – and I said firmly and probably a little too loudly, “I already have!” She dropped it and we went on with the registration/admit process. Thanks for adding to my anxiety, you argumentative twit.

Procedure day came. Stressed and ready to run, we headed on to my appointment. I knew they were going to put me completely under. I had had my surgery just a few months ago and didn’t have a problem with anesthesia. I shouldn’t be worried about this! The nurses were nice and tried to make me comfortable. They assured me it was going to be fine. That’s what they said the last time and look what happened!

Another nurse came in and proceeded to tell me about the “twilight” drug. I screamed inside my head. I told her right away that I was going to be put completely under with anesthesia. She argued with me. I told her I wanted to talk to the doctor. I also told her, “If they are planning on using the “twilight” drug then I am leaving!” She told me the doctor probably won’t see me before the procedure but I can talk to the anesthesiologist. Better than nothing, I suppose. I don’t have to do this, I kept telling myself.

After they took me to the holding area, the doctor DID come in to talk with me! Boy! Was I relieved! He said he remembered my case well and he told me that I was going to be completely asleep. I told him that I needed some assurance that if I wasn’t completely asleep, if I woke up, or if I cried out then he would stop immediately! He said he would definitely stop but he didn’t think we would have any issues. I explained how traumatic it was for me the last time. He understood. Whew!

The anesthesiologist came in next, and I verified again that he was going to put me completely under. I wasn’t going to chance that they were both on the same page!! Thankfully, they were on the same page, and then they rolled me to the procedure room. I’m still screaming inside! I’m scratching from the inside out, trying to find a way out of this! I couldn’t believe I was willingly going to let them do this to me again!! 

It wasn’t long before my lights went out. Thank goodness! I’m not really sure how long it took. I lost track of all time. I woke up coughing, coughing, coughing. I didn’t think I would ever stop. It took awhile to get that ‘stuff’ out of my lungs! Oh, and the gas! The wonderfully loud flatulence you get afterward! (They have to pump air into your colon so they can see better!) I really didn’t care how loud I was. They did this to me, they can suffer the consequences!! 

They took me back to my room after I was completely awake and aware. I was relieved that this was finally OVER! I wondered how I got a bit upper lip though. Curious. It was puffy and hurt like hell. If that was the only damage, then I was ok with that! But, I hadn’t asked about the results. I was afraid to ask. Should I ask? Dad was there and I knew the doctor had talked to him afterward. I had to ask him what they found, as scared as I was to know. Just as long as it’s not cancer!! I finally got the courage to ask. Dad told me the doctor said he didn’t find anything whatsoever! Not even one single polyp! Most people my age usually have a couple polyps. Not me! No biopsy had to be done. No cancer, no colitis, no diverticulitis, no Crohn’s, no Celiac. No inflammation. No bacteria. You know that part of me that was scratching from the inside out trying to find a way out of this? I was now jumping for joy as if I was on a trampoline!! Now, where’s my clothes? I’m going home and you can’t stop me!

I slept like a happy, fed, and dry baby that night! Never woke up once. The problem was, when I woke up the next morning, every muscle in my body hurt! It hurt to laugh, to cough, to sneeze. It hurt to move! I wondered if I was really under full anesthesia and maybe I just didn’t remember anything. Did those rat bastards use a “twilight” drug on me after all? Why would I be so sore? If I was completely asleep, my body must have still known what was “up” because it seems as though my muscles tensed up in reaction to the procedure! Why else would I be this sore? I can understand my ribs and abdominal muscles being sore from the coughing. But my calves, thighs, shoulders, neck, and arm muscles too? The procedure was July 7. Today is the first day I feel normal again!

I go back to my regular doctor this week for a follow up. She will be checking my iron level. I will be telling her, “I told you it was my diet!” I will admit however, two things: One, maybe the para-esophageal hiatal hernia was preventing me from absorbing the little bit of iron in my diet, and Two, if it weren’t for the first horrifying EGD/Colonoscopy experience I would have never known about my stomach and had it repaired. I still think, and I will tell my doctor, that she should have at least asked me about my diet, and perhaps rechecked my iron after a couple of weeks…instead of scaring me half to death with worst case scenarios!!! Seems that doctors these days think they know us better than we know ourselves! Ha!

I’m thankful to be as healthy as I am. I have chronic pain from severe arthritis but I can deal with this most days. I’m thankful I don’t have cancer, or any of those other digestive diseases. Maybe I’ll live, after all.

My Ordeal

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It all started in January. I went to my regular doctor for my annual check up. Ladies, you know what I mean. Blood was drawn at this visit and the next day Doc calls me and tells me that my blood work results showed I was anemic. That explained the 2.5 hour naps I was taking every single day because I couldn’t keep my eyes open!

Doc went on to explain that since I no longer have a monthly period, there’s no reason for my iron level to be that low. She said there must be blood loss somewhere inside. She strongly suggested an EGD and a colonoscopy. I had been refusing a colonoscopy since I turned 50. Was this her way of making sure I did it, whether I wanted to or not? Perhaps.

I told her I thought it was probably my diet. She said, “No, not unless you’ve gone completely vegetarian.” She wouldn’t even entertain the thought that it was my diet. Was she assuming that because I’m overweight I must get enough to eat? She’s a doctor. Doesn’t she realize that many overweight people are actually undernourished? How can she say with all certainty that it’s not my diet? She doesn’t know what I eat or don’t eat!

She went on to tell me that I could have colon cancer, lymphoma, Crohn’s, or Celiac Disease. Way to go, Doc! Scare the crap out of me. Again — her way of making sure I have a colonoscopy? I was beginning to think so. Reluctantly, I agreed and an appointment was made. In the meantime, she told me to take an iron supplement.

Within a few days of taking the iron supplement, I started to notice a change. I wasn’t totally exhausted by 11:00 am every day. I started sleeping better. Apparently, lack of iron changes something in your brain and that causes insomnia…and I hadn’t slept well in months! Due to these changes, I knew the blood test was accurate.

I was still convinced that it was probably my diet. I didn’t eat breakfast, lunch was my biggest meal and consisted of a vegetable, meat (usually chicken) and sometimes a potato or pasta. Maybe I’d just have a salad made up of romaine lettuce, carrots, celery, and zucchini. I wasn’t eating beef, not much grains — not bread, not even cereal. I wasn’t eating beans. I wasn’t eating much spinach or other dark leafy greens. At dinner time, if I was hungry, I had crackers and cheese or I’d open a can of soup. Maybe for a snack later I’d have a handful of pretzels or a few Hershey’s mini candy bars. Not a very iron-rich diet you say? Riiiight! I also wasn’t taking in any vitamin C, which helps you to absorb the iron in your diet. Ever since my gallbladder surgery, if I ate certain things (beef, grains, some veggies, beans etc.) I would feel bloated and had major discomfort in my stomach. So, I stopped eating those things! I figured I didn’t need the carbs or calories anyway! I thought this was just the way it is after gallbladder surgery.

In a couple of weeks it was time for the dreaded colonoscopy. I was instructed to stop taking all supplements, and my pain medications one week prior to the EGD and colonoscopy. I knew this was going to be miserable because I NEED that pain medication! By day 4 I was in tears and in major pain. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t walk much, couldn’t sleep. I was a basket case!!

Day of procedures came and I was not only in tremendous pain but my anxiety level was through the roof! I wanted this day to be over. I wanted to go home and take my pain meds and sleep for a week! The nurses and doctor performing the procedures were very nice and explained everything that was going to be done. They tried to make me comfortable because they knew I was in pain. My comfort was short lived.

I was given what they called a “Twilight” drug. It was suppose to put me in la-la land. I wasn’t going to know anything that was happening or remember anything afterward. The EGD would be performed first. A mouth guard was placed in my mouth so that I wouldn’t clamp down on the tube. The tube went down my throat —- I gagged and choked and thought I was going to choke to death! I didn’t think they would ever finish. I was horrified. The nurses did their best to talk me through it all but it wasn’t working. (I couldn’t help think, “why am I aware of this?”) When the tube came out I was relieved. Little did I know that it would go from bad to worse when they started the colonoscopy.

Bear with me now. I hate to remember the details. It was just too traumatic and it has taken me all these months to be able to sit down and actually write about my experience! I won’t go into great detail about the colonoscopy because I think you will get the picture.

The drugs were not working on me, which is why the EGD didn’t go very smoothly for me. The doctor gave me as much of the drug as he possibly could. The colonoscopy could not be finished. I was yelling for them to stop. I was being held down by 2 nurses and told, “Stop yelling” and “It’ll be over soon” and my favorite, “Relax!” — all while being violated!!! I swear if I had seen those 2 bitches afterward I would have kicked them in the face. Thank goodness the doctor stopped the procedure, none too soon if you ask me!

Afterward, the doctor was very apologetic and explained to me that it’s rare but sometimes that happens. My pain level coupled with my high anxiety just over-rode the drugs. I should not have remembered anything but I did! He also told me that I could have taken my pain medication and that he had been trying to tell the ladies in scheduling and registration that that particular drug was OK to take! As for the EGD, he told me that he had a hard time getting into my stomach because it seemed to be in the wrong place, up too high and also that it was shaped funny. Oh great. Now what kind of tests and procedures do I have to look forward to? He suggested an Upper GI. Nothing too scary, thank goodness. He also suggested that we re-do these procedures but that he would put me completely asleep next time. You’re damn right you will, IF — and that’s a really big IF — I decide to do it again at all!

So, I had nightmares for 2 weeks after this happened. It’s hard for me to even recall the details vividly – not that I can’t recall them, but because it’s just too traumatic! Imagine this happening to you! My brain KNOWS it wasn’t rape BUT my emotions tell me differently! I don’t blame the doctor. It wasn’t his fault. Anyway, it was done now and I had to worry about what was wrong with my stomach.

An Upper GI was scheduled and it wasn’t a big deal really. I drank some nasty chalky stuff and was able to see the x-ray of my own stomach as I swallowed. It was kind of cool! The doctor doing this test explained that what I had was an Para-esophageal Hiatal Hernia. Basically, my stomach was in my chest cavity! That explains why I felt such discomfort and bloating, and nearly pain at times, when I ate certain things!! I was told that the danger was that my stomach could twist and cut off it’s own blood supply — resulting in a EMERGENCY situation for me! Yikes!

An appointment was made for a consultation with a surgeon. He was very nice, had a good sense of humor and I felt comfortable with him. He explained what needed to be done and showed me photos as well. He also told me that I don’t have to do anything that I don’t want to do. THAT was the very first time a doctor has ever said those words to me! I agreed that surgery was the best option and it was scheduled. I wasn’t too stressed. I had some anxiety but it was more about my insurance covering the surgery than the surgery itself! And the surgeon said I could continue taking my pain meds, and if I could stop taking them a couple days before the surgery that would be great, but if I can’t that’s ok too.

Surgery went well. I spent 2 days in the hospital and 3 weeks on special diets. The first week was a clear liquid diet. Second week, a full liquid diet. Third week, soft foods. After that it took a couple weeks to be able to eat without getting sick. I’m doing great now….. I’m eating my favorite foods again but I’m definitely trying to get all the necessary nutrients in my diet. Being more health conscious is easier said than done!

Stay tuned for the next installment: My Ordeal – The EGD/Colonoscopy ROUND 2

I’m Still Here….

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I had worried about having gallbladder surgery for the past month. I worried that something would go wrong. This inspired me to clean out closets, drawers, cabinets etc. I threw away a lot of crap that I had accumulated over the years. Such clutter. I didn’t want to leave such a mess for my family to have to deal with if something went wrong during surgery. I had voiced my concerns with close friends and family. They all told me “Don’t worry,” “Everything’s going to be ok,” “You’re going to get through this,” “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” etc. Deep down I knew they were right but you just never know when something might go wrong. I wanted to have things in order just in case.

I wrote letters to my children, my Dad, my sisters and a few close friends. Letters to be opened only in case of my death or in the event that I couldn’t speak for myself. These letters were hard for me to write but I did it. I wanted them to know how important they are to me. I couldn’t assume they knew. Sometimes we get so busy with life, we tend to not say things we should and sometimes we say things we shouldn’t. I wanted the last words from me to them to be what was in the letters.

I also made lists of things like internet accounts, bank accounts, etc., so that my family would know what needed to be done and how. I made a list of certain belongings that I wanted my family members to have. I made a list of special requests if I end up in a nursing home. Yes. I did that.

I know, it sounds ridiculous now but I really was worried about leaving my family behind.

My Dad and my son accompanied me to the hospital and I kept it together quite well. I didn’t want them to see how scared I was. They were with me up until I was moved into surgical waiting.

 

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Image Copyright Being Aunt Debbie

 

The surgeon was about an hour behind. This led to even more stress and I could hardly wait for them to give me that sedative they had promised! When they did, I felt some relief, but it wasn’t as great as they said it would be. I was rather disappointed! When Paula, the surgical nurse came to see me, I had to go to the bathroom so she helped me wrap a blanket around me because my giant butt was peering out the back of that very fashionable hospital gown. Then she walked me to the bathroom with my IV bag in one hand and the other across the small of my back. She was very nice, as were all the other nurses, but she was my favorite of them all.

 

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Image Copyright Being Aunt Debbie

 

After I finished my business in the bathroom, Paula walked me back to my bed and then rolled me out of surgical waiting, through a set of closed doors and down a long corridor. I thought of the song Hotel California by the Eagles. Maybe I would never leave this place.

The operating room was freezing and everything was huge and sparkling clean. Paula helped me onto the thin, metal operating table. She put warm blankets over me. I farted. I thought to myself, “Oh my God, the surgeon is going to be so distracted by my bodily functions he’s not going to do it right!” Paula got my blood pressure cuff settled on one arm and a finger probe on the opposite hand. The anesthesiologist, Dr. Flock, came in and put probes on my chest. His name struck me as funny and I tried not to laugh but all I could think of was my Dad being silly. I know Dad would have jokingly said, “Get the flock out of here.” Paula strapped my arms down and also placed a strap across my upper legs. I was really scared at this point. Dr. Flock said he was giving me something in my IV bag (I don’t remember if he told me what it was) and that I would feel warm and sleepy soon. He put a mask over my face and told me to breathe deeply. I started to cry. Paula comforted me and I said something that I can’t remember now. My voice was very low and slow…

As my lights went out, Paula wiped a tear from my cheek and said, “It’s going to be ok.” THAT was the last thing I remember and all I can say is that Paula is a very, very special person.