Happy Going Home Day!
Day 5 was my toughest day, emotionally. I knew that there was a good chance that I was going home and I felt like it was bittersweet. Obviously to be well enough to go home was a feat, but now I would become a burden to my family and I would really have to test my independence.
The morning started bad. I woke up crying from a bad dream that my oncologist told me that he found cancer in my breast tissue and planned an aggressive treatment schedule. It was the first time that I felt alone in the hospital, I didn’t even have Alex taking care of me anymore, and I just couldn’t handle it. Even my bowel movement (which was necessary for discharge) that morning didn’t cheer me up.
It's gonna be o.k.
I hadn’t even totally pulled myself together and a doctor from my surgical team came to examine me. He told me that all looked good and as far as he was concerned, this would be my last doppler reading. He easily heard the now familiar whooshing sound on each flap. He told me that I could go home today and explained my prescriptions. I asked him when he would take out the drains and surprisingly he said that they weren’t ready yet. WHAT??? I knew that I would probably go home with four, but all six I was not prepared for. Especially with such little production. I was crushed. On came the tears again.
I just could not cope emotionally. I curled up in my recliner and let myself pity myself for a while. It got embarrassing with the nursing staff constantly interrupting and even congratulating me for getting released. I tried to calm down and call Jason with my “good” news. Jason told me that he would pick me up that afternoon, probably by 2pm. I lost it. At that point I just wanted out of there and it was around 9am.Jason’s upset because he was having a stressful day and feels like I’m being unreasonable. I know that I’m being unreasonable, but I just couldn’t deal with life and needed to be emotional privately and I couldn’t. My day started feeling like an obstacle.
I tried to read some magazines and calm myself down. It actually worked and I managed to pull myself together enough to dress myself in the pajamas that I packed and pack up my belongings. It really didn’t take that long and I was proud to 1 - be wearing “normal” underwear (I used maternity that I had from my prior pregnancies to make sure they would lay well under my incision) and 2 - dress myself. My nurse, Goldie, came in and gave me my discharge instructions. She also gave me a pain pill for the road and took out the pain med pump that was in my stomach. What a strange sensation! It wasn’t exactly painful, but I wouldn’t want someone to do that all day.
The morning went surprisingly quickly once I calmed down (although I was still a bit of a mess) and before I knew it, Jason arrived. I was ushered into a wheelchair and taken downstairs to the car. On my way out, Goldie wished me the best and said that although the 9th floor didn’t usually have hysterectomy patients, it wouldn’t hurt for me to ask and they would love to have me back. I might just do that. Especially if I can have Alex again. He was really special to me and an integral part of my recovery.
Jason and I had a quiet ride home, which was fine. Every little bump felt like a boulder and although the majority of the ride wasn’t painful, sitting with a seatbelt and the bumps were uncomfortable. Thankfully Jason thought ahead and brought a pillow for me to use as a cushion between my belly and a seat belt. Please do this and don’t forget that pillow.
Goldie let me take a blanket from the hospital. We asked for numerous during our stay there and I got so familiar and comfortable with the weight and size that I was excited to own one. I am going to try to get it embroidered with the date of my surgery, in pink, of course.
Once I got home, I made it up the steps much better than I imagined. We have a couple flights into the house and I rested for about 40 minutes on the first floor before I tackled the 17 steps up to my room. Those were a bit harder for me, but still very doable. I haven’t ventured downstairs yet.
It was wonderful to visit with the boys when they came home. Heartbreaking for me when Collin just wants me to hold him and I just can’t. I’ll at least sit him on my lap when these tubes are out, but until then we are keeping a “no touching Mommy” rule. He screams when I won’t reach out to hold him and thrashes when Jason takes him out of the room. It kills me. The reward is seeing his face when he comes and sees me. Every part of his being lights up. He can’t wait to show me whatever it is that he’s holding and tell me whatever is on his mind. I know that he’s missed me as much as I’ve missed him.
William is a little easier. He understands reaching out for hugs and kisses and really just wants to show off. He has a captive audience with me, so we’re both okay with the arrangement.
I’m now self medicating with Oxycodone, using a antibiotic, and a stool softener. My pain is fine. I can definitely feel the incisions and the drains, and it’s still uncomfortable to walk, but the walking slowly seems to be getting better. My trips to use the restroom aren’t quite as painful as they used to be.
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