My Two Year Anniversary

It was two years ago today that I anxiously waited in my hospital bed to be taken to the OR for my second, corrective ileostomy surgery. The first operation on May 18th resulted in a complication that couldn't be immediately fixed. A kink developed at the end of my ileostomy, about two inches into my intestine, that prevented any contents to exit. I spent from May through into July going in and out of the hospitals, hoping for some relief. The surgeon said there was a chance the kink would work itself out. Before it did, I lived in a state of constant pain, almost endless vomitting, and kept going because what else was there to do?

Then one day in July the ostomy started working. Only for it to stop working abruptly about a month later. When it stopped working the rest of my body stopped working, too. Everything shut down. Much of what happened at that time is like a foggy dream. I know I was in the local hospital where they did more damage to me than good. I was then released from their "care" to go back to my surgeon. I apparently was so compromised that they couldn't operate on me right away. I needed to be stabilized which took about 10 days to rehydrate my body. Part of the rehydration plan was to give me two units of blood. My left lung also needed to be re-inflated because the first hospital managed to puncture it. My blood pressure was extremely low and my heart rate was incredibly high. Operating on me in that state would have been highly risky and so since I wasn't technically near death, just bouncing on the periphery, getting me bolstered was the best plan.

Once I had gotten some fluids back into my system then the date was scheduled. I recall seeing on TV what was happening in New Orleans and thinking in my Dilaudid haze that not enough was being done to get those people out of there. Why was nothing being done?

When they came to take me for surgery prep, I remember them going through the process of start the epidural. Then after that everything is a little fuzzy because they infused the "milk of amnesia", that milky medicine that causes immediate loss of consciousness.

Then when they woke me up they were sitting me up, telling me the epidural didn't work and they were going to remove the catheter! Being moved with a freshly sliced abdomen was not what I had in mind! And without the epidural to numb the incision and recent tinkering of my innards, I felt all of the pain! Since I had been living on regular infusion of Dilaudid, the amount they were giving me was not enough to touch the pain. I couldn't be given more without causing my respiratory function to become dangerously compromised. I was just going to have to endure the pain. What?!?! No way! But somehow I did. I'm pretty sure that I know what the pain of being dis-emboweled feels like.

It's now two years later and me and Ian-Sophia, my stoma, are doing very fine. I have no more pain in my rectum, or in any part of my bowels. I sleep most of the time a solid 7-8 hours of sleep. No more numerous trips to the bathroom during the night. My stoma has its own daily routine and I no longer have leaking bags or ruptured wafers while out in public. Once in awhile, if I get laxed about changing the bag, I'll awake to a "popped" wafer and have to deal with some leaks. I haven't had any problems while out and about in public since January, and that incident came about due to a bad batch of ostomy paste.

At last my body is doing well. I actually gain weight, much to my chagrin. I have taken to bicycling again--not as much as I should be doing--and I handle it well, as long as I have a good supply of water with me.

So despite the events of two years ago in which I sometimes have PTSD-like memory flashbacks, I'm thankful for the difference and improvements the ileostomy has made in my life.