My recovery time from my surgery took a week. Because of this, I will split my recovery story into 2 sections so that I can elaborate on the information from my experiences.
For a whole week, I was in the hospital trying to process what had happened. The first days were the hardest. When I was first told in the hospital that I had Crohn’s, I remember googling it because I didn’t know what it was. (Please see my home page to get more information about what Crohn’s is) I saw that it was labeled as RARE. I was so panicked thinking I would never be able to find someone else who had it and wouldn’t be able to find a support group or be able to find decent medical care. This terrifying episode of anxiety eventually subsided when I realized that the hospital I was at had plenty of doctors and resources for me and I had already been assigned a gastroenterologist. (Dr. Vaughn; I still go to him to this day!) After my first night and hearing about what this disease entailed and the recovery time, I decided to drop out of school for the semester so that I could get my life back on track and not have to worry about all the school work I would miss. This for me meant no cheering, and no working since my job was part of Student Union and Activities and I was required to be in classes in order to work. So I had my parents go into campus to drop me out of my classes and I texted my boss asking for a leave of absence. I had to text my coaches because I was intending to go home for about a month after I got out of the hospital so I wouldn’t be at any practices until November.
SO, after you get such a major surgery, the nurses are constantly checking on you every hour and you have so many tubes connected to all parts of your body. Upon first waking up I had a catheter in my bladder, 2 IV’s (one for the morphine, and one for the nutritional fluids since I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink), A naso-gastric tube (a plastic tube that was placed in my nose, past my throat and into my stomach so it could bring up the excess stomach acid into a nearby container to drain it), a closed suction drain beneath my surgery scar (which looked like a bulb and it needed to be emptied of the extra fluids from the surgery every couple of hours), a blood pressure cuff, and a pulse oximeter. It was suffocating.
The night of the surgery my parents were in the room along with my ex-boyfriend. They went out to dinner while I slept, still with a lot of anesthesia in me. I don’t remember much from that night other than nurses coming to check in on me every hour. I fell asleep with the TV on watching HGTV, as one does when they are staying overnight in a hospital. (Is that just me?) The next morning I was awoken at 6 am with the surgeon and their group of residents standing around my bed. They explained again what was going on and asked how I was feeling and how the wound was doing. I was so out of it and so tired it was hard to process what they were saying but they came and felt around my stomach and then told me they would be back every day to see how I was doing. They had also introduced a button that when I hit it, would dispense morphine so whenever I was in pain, I could get some relief.
Later that day, I got my catheter taken out because they wanted me to start walking. This process was really painful (even though most people say that they didn’t have a problem with it) and for the first few minutes, after it was taken out, it felt like stinging down there. Because they took the catheter out, I had to get out of bed to use the restroom when I needed to. I can say I have never been more frustrated by my inability to move than when I was laying there in my hospital needing to even shift in my bed to switch positions but couldn’t because my stomach muscles were essentially slashed in half. It took a lot of help from my parents to get me out of my bed to even use the restroom and I’m so grateful they were there all day every day even though I couldn’t imagine being them and seeing their daughter struggle so much to even roll over. The doctors had requested that I walk and move frequently so that I didn’t build up blood clots in my legs from not moving but getting up to use the restroom was a monumental task already so I took it pretty easy for the first day or two.
Tip! If you have a friend or family member in the hospital: Those cheesy balloons or flowers that you would get them saying to get well actually mean a lot more than what you’d think. The fact that I had so many flowers and little gifts like my elephant stuffed animal from my best friend from home meant so much to me and I felt incredibly blessed to have such a widespread support system. Also, visitors in my hospital room made me feel okay again because the time passed faster when I could talk to people about their things that they had going on. Just showing people that you care means more than words can describe and definitely played a big factor in coping with my situation.
The third day after surgery I saw my scar for the first time when the doctor made her daily rounds at 6 am and needed to change the dressing on my scar. My stomach was stapled together with real, bought from the store lookin’ staples! I had never known that this was something they could do to a stomach! While I was busy being simultaneously amazed and disgusted by this sight, the doctors were explaining that the ticket out of the hospital would be given to me when I could eat and keep food in my body. But, in order to eat food, I had to have a bowel movement to ensure that my stomach would be operating smoothly again. I hadn’t eaten in 4 days at this point and had lost 15 pounds to be only 94 pounds as a college sophomore and so the doctors determined it was time to start moving towards the route of eating.
To progress me towards a bowel movement, I got my naso-gastric tube pulled out so they could see how my stomach would tolerate its own acid and so that the acid could start breaking down the dead cells to flush out of my system and create a bowel movement. The way they did this was super uncomfortable. They literally pulled the tube out from my nose and I could feel the acid on the tube go up my throat and through my nose. It was a lot longer than I had expected and the nurse seemed to just keep pulling it out. Once it was out though, I felt more normal and could walk around the hospital more freely. I took frequent trips to the gift shop and walked around my floor to the “healing room” and sat in chairs in the hallway with views of the outdoors which kind of made me sad that I couldn’t be sitting outside instead.
My third day was also spent blowing into an incentive spirometer which helped prevent mucus buildup. This was only a little painful, as any movement including laughing, sneezing, coughing, and even breathing too hard hurt my stomach but it was kind of a nifty gadget that I knew would help prevent pneumonia. I was instructed to use this a few times an hour so that I could breathe normally. The rest of this day, I colored, watched TV, read a book, and played on my phone. Little did I know that the 4th day in the hospital would be a turning point towards my way out of the hospital…
Life takes Guts 