So before I make the trek across the Pond today, I figured a quick update on my back might be of interest to some people. I haven't really mentioned it before I don't think, but it has grown into quite the situation and we will be keeping our fingers crossed that it won't be even more of a situation while in Africa.
It started with a simple mole in between my shoulder blades that the the dermatologist didn't like the look of. No biggie. He did an in office little slice of it with a razor, along with a spot on my leg. Leg came back fine, the back one needing a little bit more to look at. More than he would do in the office, so enter Dr. Barnard, plastic surgeon (the most time efficient doctor on the planet, I have walked out of every single appt within ten minutes of the designated start time, plus he's just oozing with swagger charisma). We had a consult, and a week later the real time line started.
Thursday, June 2nd: Surgery #1. Despite being an outpatient procedure, making an incision in my back about 1.5" long and .75" tall, it still involves going to the big kid OR at the hospital. Goes well, much better than I thought it would. Doctor and nurses were rockin, took a little extra numbing, but I felt nothing and felt good coming out of it.
For the next 10 days, it didn't hurt much, but the itching was almost beyond tolerable. All the time, itch itch itch. Pretty normal.
Tuesday, 14th: I go in to have the stitches taken out like planned. He snips them out, but notices two points of infection in the suture holes, nothing crazy, prescribes an antibiotic, and that is that. Still itches a bit, but no more fear of pulling out stitches by rubbing it.
Wednesday, 15th: Tim was changing my bandage in the evening, and notices a hole in my back. Right where the incision was. About the size that you could stick a pencil eraser into it, only when you see a hole AT ALL in your own flesh, it's a huge freak out moment. We called Barnard immediately in the morning. And he basically said that's pretty expected with the infection, gave me an extended antibiotic to last throw my entire trip to Africa (an ENTIRE other bag of worms, open wound with third world water....bad news), and said come in and he would check it after I returned. Sounds good to me.
Saturday, 18th: I hadn't been paying too good of attention to it, and for some reason I thought to have Tim take a closer look at the wound, and I am glad I did because we learned that basically the entire 1.5" incision had ripped right open. There was a hole close to the size of a half dollar between my shoulders. And this isn't like a layer of skin or two deep, this is a good deep crater. Melt down at my parents house. Determined not to go to the ER, called Barnard immediately Monday morning for an appointment, mere days away from Kenya, thinking up all the different ways to keep the wound completely covered so no baby droplet of water hits it, but is still able to heal. Not exactly an ideal worry to think about for a mission trip.
Tuesday, 21st: Check in with Barnard, who immediately started manipulating the skin to figure out the best way to go back in and sew it back up. I guess I should mention in all of this that short of the initial surgery day after pain, and the itching (which could be painful at times, with the inability to itch), it hasn't hurt at all. None. And in figuring out how to sew it back, it still wasn't hurting. I mean, this HUGE hole was taking a manhandling with nothing. So I have that to be majorly thankful for.
Wednesday, 22nd: Surgery #2. Back to the same OR to have it all done again. I was NOT a happy camper to learn that he was going to be restitching it shut. For numerous reasons, but mainly the stitches themselves. The itch factor, the lack of comfort factor, and being freshly raw for a 24 hour travel adventure to Africa, and then 10 days with new stitches, and not just new stitches, but ones that have been redone, meaning they are that much tighter across the back, is less than awesome. No backpacks going through the airports, rubbing on the seats, I can't really stretch yet, then just being there. No yoga. No working out. Ugh. What he thought would matter, but doesn't (at least to me) is that he did THREE layers of stitches, and the first time he tried to kinda hide them in the skin, but this time, it was old school in and out over and under, and WIDE. So the scar is going to be less invisible. Whatever, Im not that vain.
Its a little under 24 hours later, and I am in a lot more pain than I was the first time around. Partly due to the stiches, partly due to the fact that the injection sites for the numbing were covered by adhesive, and if you saw my back right now, it has been a red railroad of reactions to adhesive. Its been 3 weeks pretty much solid in adhesive bandages. And is about to continue to be another two weeks. No breathing for this skin. Its an issue.
As a gross side note, not only did he just stitch it back up again, but he did something I didn't think possible. I had a hole in my back, the "wound." Well, he removed "the wound," how you remove a hole, I wouldn't know, but he pulled out a glob of skin that made it look like he took a melon baller to my back. I half thought my spine was exposed because of the blob of bloody flesh that he showed me. I nearly threw up in the OR. So maybe thats what hurts.
He's going to check it a few days after I get back, but then the stitches will be left in still another week (three total, as opposed to 12 days the first time). As he said, I am going to be "best friends" with these stitches by the end of it. Which short of the pain and itchees on the trip, I am ok with. I REALLY don't need to go through this again. I need my yoga practice ;-)
So any and all prayers accepted for this wound. It's going to be a challenge to keep it clean, but its non negotiable. It MUST stay clean. Infection is not an option. I can handle some itch and some pain, but its a handful right now, and any prayer for it to notch it down a few levels would be amazing.
That's my story! Sorry to gross you out if it did. Just be glad I didn't post the pictures. Because I do have some. No really super awesome shots, mostly all of them are slightly out of focus, but enough to NOT post on the internet to save people's upchuck reflex. :-)
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Dentist Doom
This entry includes the sentence: My mom is just excited cause I will draw her pictures that resemble a four year olds masterpiece while still totally drugged up and seeing unicorns again. (See? Now you want to read it).
Last week I went to the dentist. I have NEVER had even a neutral experience there. See: Bruising and Torture.
And of course, this past visit was no different. I actually was meant to go in quite awhile ago (its probably been a year), but with our New Zealand extravaganza, I just kind of ignored it. Well, my top wisdom teeth are all the way in, and the only way to get them out is to get a referral. So once again, suckered into the dentist.
That being said, when I got my bottom wisdom teeth out near a decade ago, he told me that there were no top wisdom teeth on the x-rays, and by that age, they should be at least visible in x-ray by now, so I had been lucky enough to escape top ones. CLEARLY WRONG.
There's more to that part of the story, but I feel like I should share the beginning of my lovely day at the dentist. It's typical to be in the office for close to two hours between all the waiting between steps that you have to do at my dentist, he beyond overbooks and is always late. But I arrived around 9:50 for my 10am appointment. Checked in, sat down.
Waited. 10am hits. Two guys walk in within five minutes of each other, both are taken back to their rooms before they can even sit down in the waiting room. I get annoyed that I have been there ten minutes and they just get to walk in. So I go up and "check" to make sure my appointment was at 10 (read: reminding the community college graduate behind the desk that I was still waiting).
She responds, "It's only 10:05"
"Well, yeah, but those two guys walked right in so I just wondered...."
"They have different hygienists than you, yours will be done soon"
All with immense attitude. I sat down and contemplated the concept of pre-assigning the hygienists and the complete annoyance of such practice.
Finally being shown into a room, forced into small talk where I showed my heinous side of how unhappy the dentist makes me in order to shut the woman up so I don't have to talk with her hands in my mouth, I tell her about my top wisdom teeth. She pulls up my x-ray and says,
WAIT FOR IT
"Oh yes, I see your bottom left tooth poking through"
Yup. Remember up to the top of the story that I had my bottom wisdom teeth removed years back. They don't exist. And this moron of a lady is claiming to see them on my x-ray. I swear its to get me to like her and stop being so angsty.
I don't care. I judge her ferociously and continue the rest of my visit. Ugh.
Then there was quite a glorious argument with the lady scheduling the surgery about my insistance about going under during the extraction. I think by the end of it the lady understood that if I was this bitchy awake and at the END of appointment, no one should have to deal with me during the process of terrifying me half to death and making me bleed from the mouth.
My mom is just excited cause I will draw her pictures that resemble a four year olds masterpiece while still totally drugged up and seeing unicorns again. The humor she finds in my pain.... *sigh*
Two weeks from tomorrow I will be short two more teeth. I am now accepting get well gifts, cards, as well as poetry. ESPECIALLY since Tim will be working during my recovery, and I will be left at the hands of my mother, who clearly has shown her sympathy traits above....No really. Feel free. ;-)
Last week I went to the dentist. I have NEVER had even a neutral experience there. See: Bruising and Torture.
And of course, this past visit was no different. I actually was meant to go in quite awhile ago (its probably been a year), but with our New Zealand extravaganza, I just kind of ignored it. Well, my top wisdom teeth are all the way in, and the only way to get them out is to get a referral. So once again, suckered into the dentist.
That being said, when I got my bottom wisdom teeth out near a decade ago, he told me that there were no top wisdom teeth on the x-rays, and by that age, they should be at least visible in x-ray by now, so I had been lucky enough to escape top ones. CLEARLY WRONG.
There's more to that part of the story, but I feel like I should share the beginning of my lovely day at the dentist. It's typical to be in the office for close to two hours between all the waiting between steps that you have to do at my dentist, he beyond overbooks and is always late. But I arrived around 9:50 for my 10am appointment. Checked in, sat down.
Waited. 10am hits. Two guys walk in within five minutes of each other, both are taken back to their rooms before they can even sit down in the waiting room. I get annoyed that I have been there ten minutes and they just get to walk in. So I go up and "check" to make sure my appointment was at 10 (read: reminding the community college graduate behind the desk that I was still waiting).
She responds, "It's only 10:05"
"Well, yeah, but those two guys walked right in so I just wondered...."
"They have different hygienists than you, yours will be done soon"
All with immense attitude. I sat down and contemplated the concept of pre-assigning the hygienists and the complete annoyance of such practice.
Finally being shown into a room, forced into small talk where I showed my heinous side of how unhappy the dentist makes me in order to shut the woman up so I don't have to talk with her hands in my mouth, I tell her about my top wisdom teeth. She pulls up my x-ray and says,
WAIT FOR IT
"Oh yes, I see your bottom left tooth poking through"
Yup. Remember up to the top of the story that I had my bottom wisdom teeth removed years back. They don't exist. And this moron of a lady is claiming to see them on my x-ray. I swear its to get me to like her and stop being so angsty.
I don't care. I judge her ferociously and continue the rest of my visit. Ugh.
Then there was quite a glorious argument with the lady scheduling the surgery about my insistance about going under during the extraction. I think by the end of it the lady understood that if I was this bitchy awake and at the END of appointment, no one should have to deal with me during the process of terrifying me half to death and making me bleed from the mouth.
My mom is just excited cause I will draw her pictures that resemble a four year olds masterpiece while still totally drugged up and seeing unicorns again. The humor she finds in my pain.... *sigh*
Two weeks from tomorrow I will be short two more teeth. I am now accepting get well gifts, cards, as well as poetry. ESPECIALLY since Tim will be working during my recovery, and I will be left at the hands of my mother, who clearly has shown her sympathy traits above....No really. Feel free. ;-)
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