Three bumps on the road to recovery

Early Monday morning a problem arose: my IV had appeared to be falling out since the night before so I mentioned this to the one of the nurses when she came in to check my vitals. "Oh yes, it does look like its coming out. We'll have to give you a new one," she said. Oh great ... another needle in an already tender spot. Another nurse soon came in with a new needle to jab into my hand. Because the wrist area (where it had previosuly been placed) was tender and red, she decided to try a vein in the top of the hand-- not an easy spot when you have boney little hands. She jabbed me once. Twice. Three Times. Okay okay! Stop already! Can you guess what I did? (Of course you can) ... I cried. I pleaded too, this time: "Can't you just give me a pill or something? I don't need the IV. I've been eating and drinking more than enough. The only reason the IV is there is for the morphine pump." The nurse said she would go and find out what she could do. An hour or so later she came back and informed me that in the morning she would ask Dr. Butler to order something else for me in pill form. For the remainer of the time, I was stuck with Morphene injections into the hip.

In the morning Dr.Butler arrived for his hospital rounds and gave the "ok" on an order of Delaudid to replace my regular Morphine dose. I was nervous taking this one-- as I mentioned, my body is not used to pills, and I had heard from some recent visitors that this drug is highly addictive and is up there with Oxycontin. My parents convinced me to give it a try and that when drugs are administered for serious pain instead of recreational use, the threat of addiction or serious reactions is weakened. So, I agreed to take it, but opted for the smallest dose possible.
I took one in the afternoon and one in the evening. The effects weren't half as strong as I fathomed. They seemed to be a slow release type of drug and weren't effective enough for the pain I was encountering. I told the nurse and she said I should try the medium-level dose because what I was taking was likely not enough. That night I agreed, worried that I wouldn't be able to sleep with the pain. After all my visitors left, I called my father on the phone and expressed that I was worried to take this much Delaudid without anyone around. He assured me that everything would be fine and that I just had to go with it. He told me to take the pill and stay on the phone with him and when I started getting drowsy I could hang up and go right to sleep.

I have always trusted in my father, being the wise man he is. So I took his advise without batting an eye. Down the hatch it went. When the wave hit, I hung up the phone and went right to sleep. Whoa! This time it really hit me. I felt like I was in a coma for most of the night. It enduced such a heavy sleep that when I finally woke up, my head felt like a hammer was hitting it. Pounding. Pounding. Throbbing. My head hurt so much that I began to feel queazy. I picked up the phone and called my mother-- "Come right away! I don't feel well!" Within an hour she and my father were at the hospital by my side. They got me Gravol from the doctor and a cold cloth. I was a complete mess--dizzy, nauseated, headache... the whole nine yards. This terrible mess lasted into the late afternoon, when I finally came around. I will never take Delaudid again!

From then on, I opted for a simple Tylenol with Codene and decided to start trying to get over the pain. If I kept covering it up with crazy painkillers, I would never start dealing with it. Pain is weakness leaving the body. I could deal with this. I did my arm exercises more (these are required in order for me to gain mobility in my arm and shoulder again). I went for walks. Michael took me outside for fresh air. He stayed late with me and we cuddled on the hospital bed and watched t.v. I did the best I could, and I started feeling a lot better.

Wednesday morning, an appointment was arranged for my bone scan, which Dr.Butler previously warned me about. This was quite nerve wracking because the bones are one of the first places breast cancer normally spreads to. This would tell the doctors if there was any sign of spread thus far. A nurse first came up and injected me with radioactive dye in a vein in the arm. This time it wasn't half as painful as the dye injected into my breast. It was similar to getting bloodwork done. Phew! About an hour later, the nurse came back and wheeled me down to the same room where I previously had the lymph node pictures taken. A technician directed me to lay on the bed, where she was to take pictures of my entire body. These pictures would show my complete skeleton. Click this link to see pictures of a bone scan machine (it was also a similar machine for the lymph node procedure): http://health.allrefer.com/health/bone-scan-nuclear-scan.html I went through the exact ordeal as I did the previous week--chlautrophobia (but on a smaller scale this time). When taking pictures of the head and upper body, the machine is lowered an inch from the face. I did as I did last time-- closed my eyes, took deep breaths, and convinced myself that this was really not that big a deal.

The more important thing this time was AFTER the procedure. Dr. Isles (that sunny radiologist) would examine the pictures immediately and tell me the results. When I climbed down from the bed, the technician showed me the pictures and commented on how nice they turned out. She said the bones showed up bright and clear because I am so young and thin ... this would make it easier for Dr. Isles to detect anything. It was so strange seeing my own skeleton on the screen ... cool. I was placed back in the wheelchair and wheeled out in the hall to wait for the results. Thoughts rushed through my mind. What if it DID spread? What's taking her so long? Did she find something weird? I turned my head and saw Dr.Isles prancing down the hall, looking as jolly as ever. Her journey down the hallway seemed to take an eternity as I watched her face and tried to read her expression. I think she could tell what I was going through because half way there she reached out her arms and gave me two thumbs up and a big smile. Phew! I said, excited: "Everything was good?" She replied: "You're beautiful on the inside AND on the outside ... everything looked wonderful!" That's one less thing I have to worry about.

The final major obstacle that I had to overcome in the hospital occured Thursday morning. I began to feel scared in the mornings at this point--not knowing what they wanted to do next to cause me pain. I was now getting absolutely sick of people poking and jabbing at me and causing me discomfort. I wanted it all overwith. I wanted to be left alone. This time, Dr. Butler came in and examined the containers that had been attached to me the entire week. He said that there was now barely anything in them, so he thought it was time to take the drains out. This was to be bitter sweet. All week I wished they were out, since they caused so much annoyance. But at the same time, I dreaded getting them out because I knew there must be some sort of pain attached to the ordeal. The nurse came in with all her supplies and began getting everything ready. She tried to make small talk with me, but all I could concentrate on was what she was about to do. Unimportant words and fake smiles were too much for me right now. I decided not to 'beat around the bush':"Does this hurt?" I was getting used to the way the healthcare professionals answered these sorts of questions: "Ah ... it may cause you some discomfort." Discomfort meant pain in this place. So, I gripped the bed and waited. She told me that the first one would be easier than the second. This was because the second one was wider beneath the skin than it was outside the skin. She first clipped the stitches that held them in, then she told me to take a deep breath (this is their way of saying, "get ready, this is going to hurt"). I took a deep breath and clinged on to the blanket, covering my face. I then experienced the most bizarre sensation of my life, as she yanked the drain from beneath my skin. I could feel the plastic moving inside my body, coming up from my side. It feels like a long snake squirming beneath my skin. It was almost disguisting. She was correct this time, though--the sensation was more uncomfortable than painful.

Now for the second tube. As she pulled this tube I felt the same sensation coming from my chest area. However, because the tube was bigger under the skin, it had to be popped through to come out. This was painful. I screamed during the entire procedure. It was my way of dealing with the never-before-felt, bizarre sensations. The aftermath was well worth it. No more drains! I suddenly felt free. And I was free! Dr. Butler said that now that I had my bone scan done and my drains removed, I could collect my things and head home.