It all started at my 6-week postpartum checkup. Some unusual pain and bleeding led my OB to get me an ultrasound. I tried not to have a panic attack as I returned to the room I had last been in when I was told my baby had died. After a very thorough check, I waited in my doctor's office for the results. She sat down and said "Well, it's not horrible."
Thankfully her report came as no surprise: as my previous OB suspected during my pregnancy with Connor, I did indeed have a septum in my uterus. It wasn't just heart-shaped. A septum is very serious and since we were aware of it and I wasn't pregnant, my OB strongly suggested that we have it surgically removed. Since our goal is to have more children soon, we agreed.
This would be my 3rd laproscopic surgery, so I wasn't worried about it. Then a week prior to the procedure, I had to call the hospital to answer some pre-registration questions. The
"Um, no. No hysterectomy! No! No! No!"
I over-explained what I was actually having done. I had a minor panic attack after this
You've got to be kidding me right? That's like casually asking a man if he's going to be castrated tomorrow.
So I call my doctor and his nurse and explain what happen and they are actually understanding about my panic. They ensure that everything is fine; I'm having a hysteroscopy not a hysterectomy. Even so, I remained in panic mode for a week. I woke up every morning with a feeling of dread, cold fear spreading through me. I told Nick what happened and he was equally concerned. He asked me several times if the hospital was sure about what they were doing. We couldn't help but picture a worst case scenario. Why else would I have this premonition of utter dread?
We arrived at the hospital on surgery day, outpatient surgery, an easy in-and-out and back home I go. The nurses got me all hooked up to an IV and then went over my procedure. NO HYSTERECTOMY! I joked about writing "DO NOT REMOVE" on my stomach.
Nick and Connor left to have lunch at home, preparing to come pick me up in a few hours. I was wheeled to the OR and still feeling really awful. Even though my OB and surgeon himself stayed in there talking to me, reiterating that he'd just go in and remove my septum and resection my uterus. The anesthesiologist was late. We all waited for a long time. Finally she showed up and they put me out very quickly.
I woke up in the ICU, unable to breathe. There was a tube in my throat, which has to be one of the worst sensations in the world. I totally freaked and could hear a nurse yelling for me to be sedated and then blissfully I blacked out. But when I woke up again, the tube was still there and I was not happy.This time they left me alone and ran for the ICU doctor. He checked whatever it is they need to check before removing the tube. I still couldn't breathe and was gagging and clinging to a nurses hand. It was like having your head held underwater. They finally pulled the tube out and it was the biggest relief!
It was quite awhile before I had any idea what was going on. I was coughing like crazy, my lungs hurt and my face was so swollen I could barely open my eyes. My OB is great though, he got up to the ICU to see me right away and explained. I had too many fluids during surgery, both in the IV and in my uterus. Apparently when my lungs started to fill with fluid, they intubated me and ran a bunch of tests like an EKG to see if I was having an allergic reaction or any other explanation for what was occurring, but I was fine. All they could conclude was that I am too petite and they simply put way too much fluid in me and my body just absorbed it everywhere. My hands and feet were pretty swollen too.
Nick and Connor came to visit about an hour later and we were told I'd be kept overnight. I don't think it really hit me that I was in ICU and had just had a pretty serious situation take place. I was more interested in being able to breathe and in hearing how my surgery went.
Thankfully my surgery was perfect. The septum they removed was huge. The OB said that when he looked into my uterus, it was about all he could see. It filled about 70% of my uterus. In his words, "there was hardly any room for a baby". It was a miracle I carried Connor to term and he was born healthy.
So, definitely a good thing we had the surgery, despite the unexpected drama!
I have never been in an ICU before. It's noisy. I was hooked up to a lot of machinery, my heart rate and oxygen levels and blood pressure cuff going off every 15 minutes. Sleep was nearly impossible. I had been propped up by 20 pillows and a ton of blankets and was laying on my back. Everything hurt, I was hot, and I hate lying on my back. I endured miserably for an hour before asking to be moved. A tiny young nurse came in and just picked me up and propped me on my side, like I weighed nothing. "I am so glad you don't weigh 300 pounds!" she quipped, "You're so tiny!".
At this point, I had been called small, petite and tiny by at least a dozen nurses and doctors and that was about the only thing cheering me up. At least I am not so fat that a nurse can't lift me. Yay!
I laid in bed all night and listened to the nurses talking. They talked about all the patients, about sex and cake and stocks and retirement. I concluded that they must be used to most patients in ICU being unconscious. It was amusing since I couldn't sleep anyway. They didn't really talk about me. I heard my name and someone else said "Isn't that the best name ever?". And that was it.
I was given a ton of medicine to help drain the extra fluid from my body. It was a lot. Really crazy! By the next morning, the puffiness in my face went down and I felt pretty much okay. I was discharged after my OB checked in on me.
I've never had pneumonia, so I was wholly unprepared for how awful my lungs would feel. I am still coughing and hacking and so sore. I could not talk or eat or drink without pain. I went home and took all my medication and tried to sleep.
I woke up that night feeling feverish and just awful. I was in so much pain and I was throwing up, so Nick called my doctor. I didn't want to go to the ER so he had me wait a few hours and go in later that morning. By then I was feeling slightly better, and my doctor saw me and said "Well, you look really good". I took that to mean I didn't look like complete crap, which I guess is good. At any rate, all my vitals checked out and I was informed that basically it would take 2 weeks or so to cough all this junk out and it just plain sucked. Nothing I can do. Bleh.
I was also told again that I am so "petite" that the medication dosage so too high and that probably made me sick. So they lowered my dosage and that helped a LOT. Still, obviously being short totally ROCKS right?
I was also informed that my doctor left a catheter in my uterus. Yup! If you are at all queasy about female parts or the word "vagina", just stop reading now. Go look at www.cuteoverload.com and that may help. Seriously.
So...graphic content ahead.
My OB says, as casually as possible, that my catheter might fall out "a little" and if it does I should just "tuck it back in". This sounded relatively benign.
Unfortunately later that afternoon, just as I was feeling good about not vomiting, I used the restroom and something fell out. I can only describe as a rubber hose...an 8-inch long two pronged rubber contraption with some plastic weird contraptions at the end. It says a lot about me that I did not let out any kind of expletive at this sight. I held it and yelled for Nick to call my doctor. If I had a phone nearby, I would have called myself and kept the door bolted. In hindsight of course. I traumatized my poor, poor husband.
Nick got the doc on the phone and I could see that he wasn't crazy about explaining what was happening or using the word "vagina". There was...something...coming out of well HER. What? Yes, yes the um, vagina.
Great, just great!
It gets better though. My OB is talking cheerfully, I'm holding onto this fire hose in disbelief and Nick is looking at me with his face screwed up in a look I have never seen on him before. A mixture of horror and fear and embarrassment I'd say. He peered fearfully at me and kept telling the doctor "um, okay, okay...uh bye".
Then he tells me the doctor said to just "coil it up and stuff it back in there". Seriously? Like I'm a turkey? All I can picture is stuffing a turkey.
"Just stuff it up in there?!" I shriek at Nick. This thing is big...it's hanging down to my knees. It was one of the worst moments EVER. But it was Saturday evening, I had no choice. My doctor was probably driving up to Vail and pulling this thing OUT would be really dangerous.
So, I managed. In such a way that I imagine people just have to manage to give birth in their toilet or drink their own urine or cut off their own arm to survive. You just have to do it even if it is horrible.
Today is Sunday. In about 16 hours I will get this fire hose/balloon/catheter removed. In the meantime, I deal with this each time I used the bathroom. It totally sucks.
I am on several medications to help me heal, fight off infection and build up my uterine lining. It's making me tired and loopy and sick to my stomach.
I'm tired of coughing and really tired of the fire hose, and so very tired of bleeding. Being a woman is hard, didn't you know? :)
I feel very bad for my husband but I am trying to have a sense of humor about it, in my drug-induced loopy kind of way. Nick and Connor are probably tired of being told they are so lucky that they have penises, but too bad. As Rachel once said on Friends "No uterus, no opinion!"
I know I am blessed though. I am SO glad that the septum was worth getting taken out and that I have a normal uterus now that can hold a baby! I am healing quickly...my tummy hardly hurts at all. My neighbor and friend brought us a delicious homemade Mexican dinner. Nick has been SUPER dad, taking care of Connor and the house and pets like a total pro. I am very grateful.
I'll be even more grateful to get back to normal life!
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