Post Op Days 5 & 6

Here I sit, still in the hospital, chronicling the road to recovery from acute appendicitis (that ended up rupturing) at 22 weeks pregnant. In case it hasn’t been clear already: Appendicitis during pregnancy? I do not recommend it.

TUESDAY
I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling like a bit of a new woman. I had SLEPT. Of course, I had been awakened a few times throughout the night for vitals, medication, and to pee, but I had easily fallen back to sleep each time. And after being up for a bit between 7-8 a.m., I fell back asleep until nearly 10:00. It was really nice, and felt wonderful.

I saw the OB and surgical residents in the morning. They were happy with the decision from Monday night to go back to NPO (nothing by mouth), agreeing that was the best bet to getting my intestines back in the game. Both the doctors and nurses continued to stress the importance of getting up and walking, so I took it as a personal challenge for the day.

My feelings of nausea, heartburn, reflux, and my headache all seemed to subside—probably from going back to eating nothing. In fact, I felt GOOD on Tuesday. My pain was manageable. On the pain scale, I was even sometimes giving numbers as low as 2 and 3. I was able to get up out of bed to get to the bathroom by myself. I walked the floor without assistance, even advancing my previous high of three laps to four. I even started finding myself really wanting/craving food again. On one of my walks, I saw someone else’s food tray sitting out with a couple of peanut butter cookies and a salad. I very nearly stole it and ran.

I had to have my IV replaced on Tuesday, since my first one had “expired.” I was disappointed to learn such info—to me, it means I’ve been here way too long!

Michael brought Nora up to visit at dinnertime again, and while it was once again torture to have them eat in front of me, it was good to have that time to spend with her. She was really cute and seemed to be extra snuggly, giving me multiple hugs and kisses without prompting. I’d say she misses her mama! At one point we were listening to her Disney music on my phone and I started mouthing along with the words. She looked at me and said, “No, Mama, TALK! No whisper!” Haha! She wanted me to sing out loud!

I went to bed on Tuesday night thinking that everything was coming together. I was in great shape with my healing. All I needed was the last piece to fall into place—the elusive gas.

WEDNESDAY
Tuesday into Wednesday, I again slept pretty well, although not as well as Monday night. But when I woke up in the morning, things did not seem to be as peachy as they were on Tuesday. My pain was back, and it was bad. I now had excruciating pains shooting through my entire right side—not only when I moved, but randomly. All of the movement and progress that I had made on Tuesday? It now seemed gone. And to top it off, I still didn’t feel any closer to getting my intestines to cooperate. The doctors gave me the same “Maybe today will be the day!” speech in the morning, and I found myself sinking low, then even lower.

By the time my nurse came in to give me my meds mid-morning, I took one look at her and burst into tears. It was the first time (since the day of surgery anyway) that I had allowed myself to feel really sorry for myself. It felt like I was fighting a neverending battle and that I would NEVER get out of here. I missed my daughter. I missed being home with my husband. I missed normal life.

Because of the increased pain, I spent the vast majority of the day in bed. Getting up to pee was horrible, and walking was hard again. I did it a few times anyway, but when the afternoon rolled around, my nurse assured me, “You’ve done enough walking for the day,” and shuffled me back to my bed.

The weather outside matched my mood. Dark, dreary, cold, rainy. At least I knew that I wasn’t missing anything out there.

One of the OB doctors came to check up on me when she heard I was having a hard day. When she heard that I hadn’t seen the surgical team since Sunday (aside from the quick 60-second check-ins by a resident during rounds at 4 a.m.), she became kind of angry and said that she was going to call them. She said that they are treating me because I’m pregnant, but that the surgeons needed to step it up—THEY are the ones that performed the surgery, and this is THEIR specialty. She insisted that one of them come up and give me an actual examination. This was around 11 a.m. I was told the surgeon would be here at 4 p.m.

The baby continues to do well. I feel him/her kicking periodically throughout the day, and they check the heartbeat via doppler multiple times per day as well. The heartbeat has always sounded and measured strong, ranging from about 135-160 beats per minute.

It should be noted that through all of this, my coworkers are awesome. One of them called Michael today to let him know that they had coordinated meals for us. Well, more for him and Nora at this point, but some of them freeze well so we can keep them on hand for when I finally get home from the hospital. When he told me, I cried. I guess you can say it was just an emotional day all around!

I also got a surprise visit during the afternoon—from a patient advocate. She wanted to know if I was happy with the quality of care I had been receiving. The poor woman, she probably had no idea I was about to unload on her for 20 minutes, crying my eyes out, about my experience. My treatment has been mostly fine—the maternity doctors and nurses have been really great—but I can’t get over what happened on Friday (the day of my surgery). Why was I left to sit for so long before going to surgery, knowing my appendix was a ticking time bomb? Why, after my appendix ruptured, did it take them an hour and a half to find me any relief and get me back for surgery already?? I’ve found myself feeling bitter today—like this didn’t need to be this way. My appendix didn’t need to rupture. And if it hadn’t, I likely would’ve been back at home with my family days ago.

Around 4:00, my nurse came in and said she wanted to give me some Phenergan—an anti-nausea med to be given via IV—to go along with my pain meds. She said it would help my pain meds work better, but that it would also make me super drowsy. I talked to Michael and we agreed that he wouldn’t bring Nora up that night. Of course I wanted to see her, but I was also in bad shape—physically and emotionally—so the sleep sounded really good. And sleep I did. That Phenergan laid me out from 4 p.m. to 8 p.m. And it was good, deep sleep. When I woke up, I felt better, and my pain was better, too.

Michael came back up to the hospital after Nora went to bed. And guess who decided to show up while he was here, around 9:00? The surgeon. Finally. And truthfully, he didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know. He didn’t tell us anything we wanted to hear. It was a disappointing visit. He did, however, set some more realistic expectations in terms of how long I might be here. He said that it can take up to TWO WEEKS for the bowels to “wake up” after a surgery like this. He said that all of my intestines are inflamed due to the ruptured appendix, so my pain is a result of that inflammation. He said that he and the “surgical team” would be back to see me on Thursday.

I’m not holding my breath.