ETA = IDK
tldr: No idea when I'll get out of here.
I'll just hit some of the mile markers of suffering over the past few days.
Transition from epidural to oral painkillers was not handled well. Left in pain overnight, I exploded on the AM rounding doctors. Yelling, light wailing, medium desperate tears. After addressing the painkiller issue, I'm offered some of the mental health services. 'There's a guy I think who plays the ukulele' To which I respond 'I don't need some jackass to come play the ukulele. I play ukulele. I AM that jackass.' Laughs all around.
But seriously, don't cross this threshold, pain management team. You pulled that epidural and then left me to shake in pain, unable to procure even Tylenol.
I missed this in the last update, but for a time my scrotal sac swelled so much as to subsume the shaft and testes completely. Think of a good sized grapefruit, with a nipple on it to pee from. Or maybe don't think of that. Aiming is via pelvis positioning. They did finally build me a sac sling a la Borat. Big elastic band over the neck, little satchel to tuck my junk into. The swelling has gone down and I don't need the sling anymore, but I insist on keeping it on my IV tree as a talisman.
The latest cycle is that I wake up, try to eat some jello or broth, wait throughout the day thru intestinal pain, then maybe throw up because whatever it was I ate that day really didn't go anywhere. The day is filled with level 3-6 pain mostly.
Had a couple days with no sleep, which left me a tired shambling dead-behind-the-eyes ghoul. Yet Karen still visited.
There is one alarm here that goes off in the key and cadence of U2's 'With or Without You'. Hearing it makes me think 'With. Definitely With. You need help getting out of bed, room 3'. Sorry if that ruins the song for anyone.
Had a friend bring a guitar in. Not really in a ukulele playing mood. The next day they put a huge PICC line in my right arm to feed me thru. I played 3 minutes of guitar, and the PICC line alarm started going off. I'm not getting much playing time in.
Ensconced all the way in the back of my room, sleeping on the overnight guest bed. The guest bed has some firmness and support for my back. I do have a window next to me, so there is daylight.
I went to basketball camp every summer as a kid. During games you could always go to the water fountain, but morning and lunch breaks were special. That's when they'd wheel out a big drink cooler of orange gatorade, and we'd all line up for icy cups. So for me, the taste of orange gatorade has unique thirst quenching abilities.
As it turns out, one of the nurses here is someone I used to play pickup basketball with at the Y in downtown Durham. I had shared with her the story of basketball camp and orange gatorade. Later that week, as soon I was cleared to consume liquids, she brought over a big jug of orange that she grabbed while at a convenience store. That was a really nice thing to do.
No estimates on how long it'll take for my gut to wake up. I'm on the far side of normal for sure. Not everyone gets the Friday BOGO Surgery special. My OR time alone makes me an outlier. However, once the gut wakes up, they'll want to see me eat something, keep it down, and maybe poop it out.
It's really hard being here for so long. I'm mentally on tilt for at least a few hours a day. Hoping the gut gets the message. Maybe tonight is the night.
~Ed