Yep....That'll Leave a Scar

Last week was one swift kick to the balls.

A week ago Saturday, I started having back pain.  It got progressively worse throughout the day until I couldn't sit or stand up straight.  I originally suspected that it was either back spasms or kidney stones.

 I was beyond thankful when Fluffette decided it was time for bed almost an hour early.  Once she was down, I took a hydrocodone left over from my birthing baby days.  Once Mr. Fluff got home from golfing, he gave me a couple of muscle relaxers and a bite to eat. I ate about five french fries and took a bite of my jr cheeseburger then........the vomitting began.  I went back and forth to the bathroom...then to bed....then laid in the fetal position in the bottom of the shower with hot water pounding my back.....then back to the bathroom.  I've never been on the verge of death but if I had to assume...this is what it felt like.  At this point, I'd been in this pain for a good four hours.

The pain didn't go away so Mr. Fluff (unbeknownst to me) called my mom to come stay with Fluffette so he could take me to the ER.  No matter what position I was in, I couldn't get any relief (twss).  I tried every yoga move in the books...well except for the one where you put your legs on your elbows...I'm just not bendy enough for that shyt.

When we turned in to the hospital, Mr. Fluff went the wrong direction and I went bat shyt crazy.  You would've thought that he just told me that the Bravo Channel was getting cancelled.

He dropped me off at the ER door then went to park.  After he drove away, I realized it wasn't the effing emergency room door so I had to run down the street, hunched over, dragging my pillow and my purse to the ACTUAL ER door. Those few yards felt about 6 miles long.

"son of a bytch azz whore mutha fugga"

Not to quote myself exactly but that gives you the gist of it.

When I finally managed to enter the ER, I ran up to the desk, kindly laid my pillow on the desk and laid my head down and said, "um....I just need a minute".

 They got me in the room and asked me 125 questions.  None of which I remember.  They finally gave me some Morphine and the pain slowly started to fade.  I no longer had to pace back and forth with my hands on the hospital bed.  I could actually sit down.

Then the azzclown of a Dr. came in and checked my back.  Since there wasn't any pain there she began to press down on my stomach and the pain hit me like a ton of bricks of cocaine.  I can honestly say that there has never been a time in my life that I wanted to punch someone in the throat more than that moment.  She just kept pressing.....and I kept crying out, "yessssssssssss..it hurtsssssssss".

When the Bytch....err....Dr. finally stopped, she immediately ordered a CAT Scan and some anxiety and additional pain medication.  When the nurse came in to give me the meds, I was in full on Sailor mode.  I said every word in the book, turned and apologized to the nurse for my language....then proceeded to take the Lord's name in vain.  (Simmer down....me and the ol' JC talked about it later and he forgave me)  I was punching the bed and asking Mr. Fluff to make it stop.  The pain was truly indescribable.

That's honestly the last thing I remember.  I pretty much blacked out after that and only remember snippets.  I know there was a CAT scan, something about surgery, something about transporting me to another hospital, something about a recovery room.

When I woke up and halfway knew who I was, Mr. Fluff handed me my phone.  It had five millions of texts on it from friends checking on me.  I looked at Mr. Fluff and asked if he sent a mass text.  He said, "nope....you posted a picture on Instagram".

"oh God"

First of all, I'm super proud of him that he knows the word "Instagram".
B.  Why the hell would he take my picture then hand me my phone so I could post it places.

I have ZERO recollection of any of this.  I don't remember taking the picture, posting it, or hell....even being in an actual hospital room.   I'm just thankful it was a lame picture like this and not one of  lady lumps....justsayin.

The first 24 hours after my surgery were pretty blurry.  I would wake up for a minute, start talking, then fall back asleep. I'm pretty sure I was only awake for a total of 2 hours that day.  I had an IV, a drain tube through my nose and could only have ice chips.  When I had to go tinkle, I had to call the nurse so she could unplug me in three places (iv, drainage tube, and massager thingy's on my legs to avoid blood clots).

I allegedly asked someone to take my picture that day too (people.....stop effing taking my picture)

Needless to say...Fluffette was scared shytless when they brought her to see me and kept her distance. Nope, that's not heart wrenching for a mother AT.ALL.

After a day and a half, I could finally eat and drink!  Thank you sweet baby Jesus!  My throat was sooooo dry.  Chicken broth never tasted so good.

When the Dr. came by to release me from the hospital, I asked her to draw me a picture of what happened.  When the picture started looking like an Octopus, I decided I would never fully understand what happened (mostly because I'm too a.d.d. and started thinking about The Little Mermaid and how it'll be fun to watch that with Fluffette someday)

So, from what I understand, I had a hernia. Then my bowel and intestines twisted around themselves 3 times and were inside the hernia hole.  The blood supply was being cut off.  I had open surgery through my stomach and they said I was EXTREMELY lucky that I didn't lose any of my bowel or intestines.  "most people in your condition would've had to get some removed".  Wow.

They kept reminding me that this was major surgery.  I can't lift Fluffette for AT LEAST three weeks (my first checkup) but most likely 8 weeks.  I also can't workout for 8-10 weeks.  Ima get fat again, aren't I?  Deep sigh.

I finally got to head home on Tuesday.  I was still in quite a bit of pain and took Hydrocodone and Motrin every 6 hours.  The next few days I rarely got up.  I just laid in the recliner and drifted in and out of sleep while watching TV.

With each day I get a little better.  I'm only taking pain medicine at night and don't get tired nearly as often as I did at first.  The next several weeks are sure to test my patience and my will power!

I was dead set on still having my first sale for Dumpster Darlins on Friday and Saturday so I called in the troops to help.  I couldn't lift anything at all and it was BEYOND annoying because everyone was doing it wrong.  As I worked my first sale, (which i will talk about in a separate post) several people asked me if I was expecting.

"um no.....why?"

So, if you ever have surgery that leaves you with a swollen belly, don't rub it or walk around with your arms around it, people will get the wrong idea.  You will then find yourself over sharing your story with complete strangers.  The look of disgust on their faces when you start talking about your "twisted bowel" will not be worth it.  You will then just say, "yes, i'm due in the fall".