#so ive been taking HIGH doses of pain meds for the past 4 days now 🤪🤪🤪

[irkajavasdream]

DON’T SMOKE MEDICAL MARIJUANA DAILY OR....

Unless you want Cannabanoid Hyperemesis Syndrome which will come to your house too after 3-5 years on average of daily MM smoking. It’s so much stronger than what used to be, that ER docs kept telling me I had CHS but I didn’t want to believe them. After having to take 5 nausea drugs, the ones they give to cancer patients, a couple few times a week but ending up in the hospital when my meds wouldn’t work, about 1 time per month. After 18 visits I finally bit the bullet. After a horrible visit to the ER where I was treated like a drug seeker since Ativan is the only thing that stopped the dry heaves, vomiting, and nausea, I decided to listen. It’s day 5 after FORTY years of daily use, i am terrified. So far, I have my appetite back and I LOVE how food tastes. It had gotten to the point that I barely could tolerate food, once a day i was somewhat hungry, and ate a decent meal. The other meal a pancake forcedly swallowed with water! So my best friend of 40 years became my enemy and I just couldn’t face it. Now I am. I haven’t been tired earlyish in a long time insomnia kept me up till 5-7 am!! I fell asleep early so far, and yesterday I think I finally sort of had a complete break down and slept all day for like 9 hours. Too tired to do anything. It was so nice to feel sleepy and hungry and my head is SO CLEAR like that said. It was amazing. I am going to a MA meeting today, quite excited. Yay. Be careful, I have lived  2 years with this syndrome and I can’t wait to live life without nausea, cold and hot sweats, weakness, cancelled plans one after another, ER visits that are embarrassing, and the inability to enjoy the high I was getting what was the point. I probably felt high maybe once every few days. Tolerance came in waves, sometimes it was constant, sometimes I had no tolerance and didn’t have to smoke more to enjoy. I thought ok, only 4 puffs at night will do the trick, and I won’t get sick any longer. Nope. I have to quit for at least 90 days to confirm this diagnosis, but I read that once a person with CHS returns to pot, the symptoms come right back. Other people with this illness, in fact most, shower constantly to help symptoms.I get so hot and sweaty that I can’t imagine a hot shower doing anything but make me more sick. Some people shower like all the whole time they are up with exhorbitant electric and water bills. In the ER many patients beg for the shower, saying thier hot water ran out. I don’t have that symptom, nor the pain in my stomach, and most people with CHS do have those symptoms, so I didn’t want to believe I have it. However, at day 5 I feel amazing. AMAZING. Thank you God for helping me get sober from pot. All these months I just kept telling myself “ok, some other thing will show up as what caused this problem I had so many expensive tests done but the ER docs all told me they know what I have. The last experience in the ER made me realize, hey they aren’t gonna keep helping me and they will start thinking I am an ativan addict. Two of them asked that in the last month. Also, when I bouht a vape pen last month instead  of my once a month Er visit, where I can’t get un nauseated with my 5 nausea drugs (what they give cancer patients) and then instead of my monthly visit i had 3 visits in one month!! That was the bottom and proof  for me. That proved I am poisoning my body with marijuana and I have to quit. I have cancelled so much in life due to this constant batttle with nausea and anxiety. Sometimes the anxiety brought on nausea. And vice versa. I know anxiety comes from bud too, but I didn’t want to believe it. I kept telling the ER docs, but I don’t have the shower thing, I don’t have pain in my abdomen. They replied “it can just be nausea and vomiting.” one doc offered to give me capsaisan cream for my belly. I’m like ok, i’m pouring sweat here. Why would I put on something that adds heat? When I got in the room my last visit 4 nights ago the nurse said first thing “if you are here for ativan you aren’t getting it.” I told her it’s the only thing that works when my nausea meds won’t work, and that that is what they have given me in the past. in fact 2 weeks ago at this hospital. She said, “not this doctor!” I had gone to a diff hospital for it 2 weeks prior (trying to avoid being treated like a drug seeker but it didn’t work) so she said that WE just saw you, and now you are back for more ativan? No. It isn’t a nausea drug anyway. I asked for the doc telling her that I forgot to ask him for the Ativan. When he came in and told me let’s start with an IV and some nausea drugs.  She said i will tell him but he’s not giving it to you. For 4 hours I sat in that room with only an IV fluid and half dose of one of the drugs I’d already maxed out on before i came in!! Finally after I’d already rippped out my iv to go to another Er, they said ok, we are gonna give you the ativan. I know it’s because my tests showed my metabolic panel was all out of whack, my heart rate only 45. i was dehydrated too. So I guess since the tests showed i’d taken all the meds i told them, and no drugs in my system but pot, they must have needed that info in order to give me the ativan. Then the other nurse said the doc was going to give it to you but since you ripped out your iv you must feel better. I said no, i just wanted to get started on my wait at ANOTHER ER. I begged to see the doc, told him I’d never ripped out an iv, please help me, i am so sick and I have to wait all over again and drive dangerously to get there, as it had been 17 hours since i was able to eat. He finally gave me a pill form of it, and told security to follow me to make sure I get into a cab so do not drive your car home! It cost 40 bucks for the cab!! Then I had to take 3 buses to get to that hospital next day to get my car in the heat I live in Arizona. I’m sure almost no one read this, but if you did I hope it helps someone else who may be going through the same thing. That visit scared the pot out of me. I will keep getting treated this way if i don’t quit. I realized I’d been lucky I got so much help for this long and NOT treated like a benzo drug seeker but I can’t press my luck. If I am causing my own sickness the empathy is gonna go out the door eventually. I played dumb about CHS every time I was seen, and told them, but i don’t shower for hours and i don’t get stomach or abdomen pain, it cant’ be the pot!! Day 5 and I am SO ALIVE. I hope this helped anyone who may not know why they are so sick. Love you all please pray for me my gorgeous followers. xoxooxoxo The good life is the one without drugs. AT 52 I may finally be able to exercise, sleep, eat and love life. Some things I haven’t been able to do enough, too sick. Not to mention my friends and family and I having to cancel so many plans over and over to where they stopped trying!! Plus since pot tells us, it’s ok to live in my own little world my little bubble no one can come into because it will kill my high and since I am sick all the time i don’t even bother to try to hang out with friends. I am going to a meeting today MA, marijuana anonyomous, finally to be around a group of people with something in common with me, and I cant wait. BTW it usually takes a good 3-5 years of daily use to get this, and if I return to using it will come right back. God Bless You

[mixterglacia]

Still One Outlaw Left pt 2. : Fallout 4

Hancock was in a panic. Which was understandable given that his...boyfriend? He wasn’t totally sure what to call this relationship, but that was totally irrelevant. What mattered was he was hauling ass to the town gate because he was hurt.

The ghoul tripped over the doormat, catching himself on the frame. He was shaking as he continued. When he saw the front gate, he froze in place. 

Right away he knew that this wasn’t going to go away with a few stimpacks and some Med-X.

He could hear Nick distantly explaining what happened, but it didn’t register. The Watch was hunting down a doctor, since the usual go to was currently gasping for air, drifting in and out of consciousness. Hancock dragged an old rickety hospital bed out of Daisy’s place trying to focus on the task at hand.

It was difficult when he could hear the awful sounds going on outside. 

He called out to Nick, helping him pull Logan onto the gurney, trying to be as gentle as possible. It was difficult due to the extent of the burns. He knew those, they were from radiation. He’d seen these all before, and usually they didn’t mean anything other than bad news.

There were folks starting to gather and Daisy was struggling to shoo them away. While Hancock tried to make the man more comfortable, Nick went out and threatened them until they gave up, and left them in peace. 

Thank fuck they did because Logan’s guts picked that moment to try and escape via his mouth. The mayor grabbed his belt, barely keeping him from toppling off the bed. He pulled him back, heart wrenching when the human gave a wet cry of pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, voice unsteady. How in the fuck could he fix this? -Could- he fix it? What happened if- 

“Boss, the doctors here!” 

Hancock looked up, still keeping a careful hold on the man. 

He’d seen this lady before, though she’d never ventured into Goodneighbor. He remembered Logan introducing them, but her name escaped him.

She was presently downing a dose of RadAway, and pulling on rough looking gloves. He flinched, knowing how painful those were going to be on burn wounds. She glared at him, until he realized he was going to need to move for her to work. He made sure she had a grip on her patient before moving away.

There was this nasty stone of dread that had settled in his gut and it wasn’t helped when the woman told Hancock that he’d need to wait outside until she came back for him. His feet felt like lead as he shuffled out of Daisy’s place, looking up to see Nick on one of the benches, staring off into space.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to hit him or demand to know what he’d done. He wanted to take his knife and rip into him until he couldn’t move anymore. 

He couldn’t. As he walked up, the rage just fell away with every step, until he was right in front of the synth and just felt hollow. He just shakily sank to the ground, leaning forward, resting his arm on the detectives knees. 

Nick trembled a bit, bad hand spamming.

“What -happened-, Nick?” It sounded so painfully weak.

“We weren’t ready.” 

Hancock looked up at him, and was thrown for a loop by how distressed the bot managed to look. He wasn’t usually one for strong displays of emotion, given the nature of his face. Yet he managed to just look...broken.

It took a moment for Nick to continue.

“We were going to the Glowing Sea. We didn’t have his-” The synth’s voice crackled with static.

“The suit.” Hancock prompted. “His rad suit?”

“Y-Yeah. We had accidentally left it behind.” His hands shook, fingers digging into the slots of the bench. “He decided we had enough anti-rad drugs on us and-...” He looked up as the sounds of someone being violently ill echoed from the temporary medical center.

“It was too much.” He said with finality. 

Hancock took Nick’s hands, holding them firmly. They stayed like that for a long time, just trying to stay grounded.

Eventually the doctor called them back in. Nick refused to go and stayed outside. So the ghoul went ahead, glancing back to be sure that he wasn’t just going to vanish like he had so many times before. Then he looked back to the medic. 

“So you’re aware that you have two, -maybe- three possible results here, right?” She sounded so angry. Why was -she- bothered? She’d be getting payed. She was an ass as far as he cared.

“I guess, yeah...”

“He’s going to die or turn ghoul.” She cut him off, firmly. “-And-, even if he turns, he has a 50/50 shot of being feral. Do you understand where I’m going with this?”

Hancock frowned. “You might wanna’ give me a hint, sister.”

“There is a very high likely hood that he is going to die. If there’s things you need to say, you should do it now.”

He wouldn’t say his world shattered but it was coming very close. He just nodded a little, and she excused herself. There wasn’t much more she could do. He told her to find Daisy, that she’d give her payment and then went back to Nick.

The synth would only come to the threshold, he couldn’t go any further. There was some ferocious  guilt forming in him that he just couldn’t shake. He couldn’t see what had happened to Logan on his watch.

When Hancock returned, he felt a chill run up his spine. The man was strapped to the bed and had tubes stuck into his arm. The place reeked of vomit and shit. Death. He corrected himself. It smells like death.

He pulled a chair from the back and went to the bedside. The restraints looked so painful, but he knew why they were there. If he went feral, they’d need that security precaution. 

He remembered something he’d said a while ago, and his stomach turned. 

“We find a way to turn you Ghoul? We could keep this thing going for a good long time.”

How could he -ever- think Logan turning was a good thing? That doc’ was right. If he did turn, who’s to say he -wouldn’t- be feral? Why was this happening. Of all the ways, something as stupid as a fatal dose of rads.

The guy had always been so careful with rads. He would almost dance away from ferals, darting in when he knew he could land a hit. He kept RadAway on him all the time, sometimes using it when he honestly didn’t need it.

Yet, here he was. Shaking on a table, instructions for how to fix up his IV taped to the drip stand. 

Hancock took his hand, lacing his fingers with the man he’d actually talked about spending many years with. 

He laid he head down on the edge of the bed, and waited.

Hancock was both hopeful and horrified when Logan’s skin began sloughing off. On one hand, this was one of the signs of becoming a ghoul. On the other hand, it was one of the signs of becoming a ghoul. He ended up having to administer Med-X to stop the man from thrashing (As much as he was able.) in the bed. 

They called on the doctor (Anderson, as she was called apparently) again, asking about the blood loss. She told them that this was part of radiation poisoning. There was nothing to really do for it. She’d looked him over and told them that, while he was out of the woods as far as direct death, since it had been a week and he was still breathing, the chance of him being feral was still a very real threat.

When she left he went over to where Nick had set up his chair, just inside the place. (It had started raining so he was forced to go in.) He carefully put his hand on the synth’s shoulder.

“Nick. I think we gotta make some hard calls here.”

“...’bout what.” His voice was laced with static. 

“About Lo’. What...what happens if he goes feral Nicky.” Hancock said carefully, trying to keep calm.

Nick wouldn’t look up at him. So the mayor hunched down so he could read his old friend better.

“What would he want us to -do-?” He stressed, seeing the detectives optics flicker. “I...I don’t want him to suffer N-”

“Do you hear what you’re sayin’ John?!” Snapped the bot. “You’re-you’re talkin’ about -killing- him! Takin’ him out behind the wood shed and-and putting him down like a damn mutant hound!” He lapsed a little more into his accent, voice box stuttering.

“You want him to be feral Nick? Is that what you’re asking me to do here? If we don’t do it, we have to just set him loose! He-” He struggled, his voice wavering. “He wouldn’t be Logan anymore Nicky. Just a shell, that’s all he’d be if he went that way.” He grabbed at the sleeve of the synths trench coat. “I’d do it. You wouldn’t have to see, I promise Nick. I swear it’ll be quick he won’t f-” 

Nick shuddered, shoulders hunching up. “I get it, I get it! Enough!” He shoved at Hancock’s shoulder. “Just let me be right now, okay?! I just...I need space...”

He backed off. Going back over to the bed he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Logan’s eyes were open. He was looking up at Hancock, almost waiting for him like he’d done in the past. Though his eyes weren’t the same. They weren’t like his own, they were almost...bloody? He’s not sure how to explain it. Just that it felt wrong.

He walked a little closer to him. It was one hell of a sight. His face was still a little raw from the painfully rapid scarring. He looked away, trying to pull at his restraints, squeaking in pain.

“Hey...Lo’?” 

The man in question glanced back up at him, and made a noise. He recognized it as a very particular noise.

It was one of the noises that ferals made to acknowledge others. Except he wasn’t acting feral. 

“You remember me?” He carefully took a seat, watching carefully.

Logan nodded, and Hancock’s stomach flipped.

Hancock. You could knock him over with a feather. Arms hurt.

“Huh?” There wasn’t a perfect way to translate feral, but that one was pretty clear. “You’re hurting?”

He nodded again.

“Well...I’m not sure what I can do about that...I think I can loosen them a little but I’m supposed to wait another few days before we can decide if you’re okay.”

While he seemed to accept this, the next thing he said baffled the mayor. 

Tall hat?

“Pardon me?” He said as he cautiously loosened the arm bindings a bit, tensing as he carefully eased some skin that stuck to the leather.

Tall, light eye, got hat. He was staring at Hancock like this was supposed to be obvious.

So he thought for a bit. Then it hit him. 

“You mean Nick?”

He nodded, and Hancock lost his mind. His sides hurt from laughing and he could faintly hear Logan chirping something along the lines of “what’s wrong” in feral.

“N-nothing, love, it’s just funny. I’ll go get him.” He stood, hearing a pleased hum from the hu- well, not he was going to have to correct the way he referred to him, wasn’t he? That is, if he really was okay and just talking like a feral.

When he went over to Nick, the synth was up and pacing. 

“Hey, Nicky. Someone wants to see you.” His tone was chipper, hopeful.

“...’Scuse me?”

“Lo’s awake and he’s asking for you.” He reached out to snag the sleeve of his coat, but Nick pulled away.

“No.”

“What the fuck do you mean no?” What was his problem? Hancock was pretty damn sure Nick had at least some kind of feelings for Logan. Why didn’t he want to see him?

“I...I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

In his mind that made sense. In his heart it felt all sorts of wrong. “Nick...if it does go bad, don’t you want to see him before...” He trailed off.

Nick stopped pacing and looked over at the back room where they’d set up the makeshift hospital room. His optics faded and flickered back to their normal light level. “R-right...” He murmured before taking nervous steps to the back of the shop.

Logan chirruped a greeting when he saw the synth, trying to smile before wincing from the skin splitting painfully. 

Hancock leaned over Nick’s shoulder. “He -uh- said hi.”

“What?” Replied the bot, glancing back at the mayor suspiciously.

“He’s not acting feral but most new ghouls talk it feral until they can get used to the interior scarring. It’s not like, a proper language? But it works.” He smirked a little, whispering against his shoulder. “You’re called “tall hat” in feral.”

Nick sighed loudly, and looked down at him. “So, you asked for me?”

He nodded, then looked to Hancock to translate. He clicked and grumbled for a bit before the older ghoul started to piece together what was being said.

“He...what he essentially says is this.” He takes a breath before continuing.

“Don’t blame yourself. I know that’s why you’ve been staying away. Yes I noticed. You did everything right, down to the last detail. You brought me here, you saved me, Nick. I know you’re scared that I’m not going to stay like this. You’re afraid I’m going to go feral. Even if I do, I need to know that you weren’t the one to blame...” He paused.

Logan tried to reach out to the synth.

“He wants to hold your hand Nicky.” Hancock prompts.

Shaking metal fingers slip into his scarred palm.

Logan hummed carefully. The other ghoul looked a little startled before he explained.

“He’s...he says he loves you Nick. He loves -both- of us.”

“What?” 

Hancock shrugged, a little lost himself. “That’s what he said.” He stopped to listen to the light sounds, then starts up again. “Says he needed us to know that.”

“I-” The detective hunched a little, shaking a little more than before. “I love you too Lo’. I don’t want you to die like thi-”

A harsh squawk.

“He says he’s not dead yet.”

“R-Right.” Nick laughed weakly. “Sorry. It’s a little bit of a weird situation. I don’t know what’s gonna happen but...I got the same feelings.”

Hancock smirked, leaning against Nick. “You know Nicky, I’m just letting you know it’s just gotten a hell of a lot gayer here.”

Nick elbowed him hard in the gut.

In the end, it did turn out alright. Eventually Logan’s voice returned to him, scratchy, but it was still him. They let him out of the bed and he was having to wear one of Hancock’s spare shirt, since it was softer than his own clothing and his skin was still painful.

He was laying in Hancock’s seldom used bed, looking over at the pair, arguing over something stupid like who gets to snuggle him first when his skin toughened up or something like that. 

“He’s gotten to snuggle you plenty, I figure it’s time to get my turn to snuggle Logan, yeah?”

“Yeah but I’m softer so it’ll be easier on him~”

“Boys.” Logan quipped. “Got a request.”

They both looked at him, waiting.

“You know how you-” He points to Hancock. “-took a new name after you turned?”

“What about it, love?”

“I want to go by Paddy now. If that’s okay with you two.”

Hancock laughs. “I’ve said this before, it still sounds fake.”

Nick speaks before anyone else can. “That’s because it -was-, smartass.”

[pcrozier87]

Just over six weeks ago, I gave birth to my amazing baby girl. I know everybody’s birth experience is different, but I want to share mine–not because something went wrong or I have this horror story to tell,  but because it’s my story and it’s something I feel people might want to know.

This pregnancy was challenging. I had pregnancy-aggravated hypertension and borderline glucose levels that almost put me in range of gestational diabetes. I had swelling in my feet, legs, and hands, and I suffered from pregnancy-induced carpal tunnel syndrome. I also had severe heartburn/indigestion from the very beginning. While I thankfully never suffered with morning sickness, suffice to say I had my share of issues. Maternity triage is no fun. It’s scary, especially when preeclampsia is still a concern of the medical staff. Add sleepless nights and a full-time job, the need to clean and nest, and all of the projects and tasks I needed to accomplish, and I had a full plate. I was making it, though. We sat in triage for a few hours one evening around week 35 and everything came back normal, so we felt good about how things were progressing. I was on blood pressure medicine to keep my levels normal, as well as a baby aspirin every day and low-sodium and low-carb diets to just make it to the due date, which was May 5th.

On the morning of April 22nd, I woke up knowing that I had a doctor’s appointment and that having the baby early was a real option if my levels came back high or abnormal, so I loaded up my hospital bag and made sure I had what I thought I would need just in case.

That day was crazy busy. I had errands to run, a trip to Wal-Mart to make, I cleaned my classroom, I dealt with student irresponsibility and excuses, and I walked waaaaay more than I should have. At my appointment that evening, my blood pressure came back higher than the doctor felt was acceptable, so back to triage I went. Now, last time my husband was with me while we waited, but he had all four wisdom teeth removed a few days prior to that appointment, so he wasn’t quite up to driving on pain medication yet. Fortunately, Mother was already almost to my house with the intention of helping organize baby stuff and get things ready for when the baby finally arrived when I was sent over to be observed. She met me at the hospital and we waited. Every single bed in the entire ward was full. All three triage beds were taken and all 20 labor and delivery beds were occupied, so I waited in the waiting room to be admitted to triage so I could be observed. Thankfully, my doctor is awesome and she checked my blood pressure, told me to take another dose of my medication, and sent me into a larger waiting room to see how I responded. My pressures came down and she released me to go home but I was put on bedrest for the remainder of my pregnancy. We scheduled my induction for the following week, planning on having her arrive the day before my 30th birthday because, well, it was poetic in a way, since my niece was born the day before her mother’s birthday.

You know how we make plans and God just laughs?

Mother and I made plans as we left the hospital to stop by a local restaurant for supper before heading home where I would be banished to my bed or the couch to do a whole lot of nothing while my body finished its work on my sweet baby girl. We pulled into the parking lot (packed, as usual for supper, even though it was a Thursday), and I felt an odd sensation. Almost like I needed to go the bathroom, but I’d made a pit stop before we left the hospital, so it seemed unusual, even for a very pregnant person like me. After determining the 15 minute wait time was acceptable, I left Mother to wait for our table and I went back to the restroom… and there was a gush. Like someone had poured a cup of water into the toilet. I suddenly realized that the unusual sensations and subsequent gush could only mean one thing: my water had broken! Like in the movies! Now, I know we see it on the big screen regularly, but the reality is that only about 10% of women actually experience a rupturing of membranes (water breaking, for those not in the medical field). I was floored! And a little panicked, honestly. I went straight out to Mother and explained the situation, we left the restaurant and called the hospital. Thankfully MY doctor was on-call, so she told me to come back in and prepare to have the baby TODAY. We went home, told my husband what was going on, loaded up in the cars, and off we went.

Now, remember how I said before that the maternity ward was packed? It still was. Thankfully, a bed in triage was available. We got signed in, got settled, and waited. They monitored vitals, got me all hooked up to everything, got me an IV going, started antibiotics (I was strep-B positive, so it’s a normal precaution), and then I started signing stuff. I swear it feels like I signed 50 different pages just to clear them of liability, but we were finally done. They started a low pitocin drip, and we had to sit tight, hoping a room would open up before my body kicked into real labor.

We moved into a different triage bay as the night went by in the hopes of me being able to sleep a little, but I was excited and nervous and too keyed up to do more than doze. My parents and husband were all either at the hospital or a few minutes away at our apartment getting some sleep over the course of the night, and, even though it was slow, the night did pass.

Around 1 PM the next afternoon they finally got us into a labor room, which was a relief. My sister-friend Amy had come to take pictures and be my labor cheerleader, since I knew Mother and Daddy wouldn’t be in the room with me and I wanted Michael to have some help when I inevitably snapped at him during the hard pains of labor. By this point, I was feeling mild contractions from the pitocin, but none so severe that I couldn’t talk through them.

As the afternoon progressed, I experienced harder contractions and an ever-increasing level of pitocin via the IV drip, but I was dilating and effacing slowly. After over 27 hours of letting my body do the work, the doctor came in and delivered the ultimatum: either I dilated past a 4 by the end of the next two hours or we would have to have a cesarean. They were concerned with infection because of the ruptured membranes, and I was honestly getting tired. By this point, I was famished, having eaten nothing for over 24 hours, and subsequently cranky. I caved on the no-meds route and got an IV-fed painkiller some time that evening and slept blissfully for a bit while they cranked up my pitocin drip, then got one more dose around the time the doctor gave me the news of my 2 hour deadline.

My nurses, every one awesome and friendly and so incredibly kind, went above and beyond to make this work for me, especially since I wanted a vaginal birth as natural as possible. The night shift nurse helped me switch positions, move around, and try to really induce dilation, but to no avail. When the time limit was up, around 2 AM Saturday morning, after having been in labor for 30 hours with ever-stronger contractions thanks to the pitocin, I spoke briefly to the anesthesiologist and proceeded into surgery. For the record, I was NOT calm. I was panicking. Where was my natural birth? Why was my body not cooperating? Would I be okay? I hadn’t prepared for a cesarean section birth! How do I cope? How hard will it be to recover from major abdominal surgery? What if I don’t make it?

Thankfully, my amazingly supportive husband, parents, and sister-friend were there to remind me that I wasn’t just giving up, that my body had done its level best and this was what was best not only for me but for my baby girl, too.

They prepped me for surgery, poked me in the back with several needles, and I will admit I was still slightly uneasy as the fiery numbness swept down into my legs, but they finished their preparations and sat my husband by my head with the suction straw ready in case I got sick. Which I did. Three times. Apparently only one produced anything, which made sense because I had consumed nothing but ice chips in 27 hours. I can’t describe the feeling, though. When you normally vomit, there are muscles and spasms and all sorts of icky feelings involved. This was numb, disembodied sensation that I knew was my sensation-less gag reflex. I don’t know if it was from the medicine or them actually moving my stomach around, but it was a very odd experience.

Anyway, after fishing around in my abdominal cavity for a bit, the doctor used the vacuum and got my sweet girl out of her cozy cave and into the world at 3:19 AM on April 22nd. She was cleaned up, suctioned out, and cried the sweetest cry in the world, and then apparently pooped all over the receiving blanket. I was still on the table having my uterus cleaned out (which, according to the doctor, looks great!), so I’m just going by what my husband reported. A few minutes after, he brought her to me and laid her on my upper chest, where I gazed into the sweetest face I’d ever seen.

Her first cries

Our first meeting

A little while after, as I was drifting in and out of awareness, they got me all closed up. I was a bit alarmed because I could feel sensations again, meaning the spinal block was wearing off, but they got me all finished before it was pain rather than just pressure and slight pinches. They lifted me on the “hovercraft” and moved me to the recovery bed, which was slightly more comfortable than my original delivery bed had been. To explain, the hovercraft is an inflatable mattress type setup that allows air to lift the patient from the operating table and makes moving an entire body easier than lifting by arms and legs. I rolled from side to side while they removed the air matress, and they covered me in blissfully warm heated blankets for the roll to recovery.

In the recovery room, I learned my parents had seen the baby and headed out when they learned I made it through safely. They hadn’t slept and were mentally and emotionally exhausted, but would be back soon.

You never know how much you rely on your core until it hurts to engage your abdominal muscles. The first couple of days were rough, but I was able to recover relatively quickly and was up and walking as soon as they’d let me. The rest of the hospital stay was uneventful, surrounded by friendly staff, and pleasant because of visitors and wonderful nurses. We worked on breastfeeding, got some help from a few nurses on latching techniques and the best way to hold her for feedings, and generally enjoyed ourselves. My doctor told us the next week when we went in to get the wound-vac and staples out that the nurses were all really impressed with me and my husband. Apparently we were polite and kind and that’s sadly not a common occurrence around there.

While I was confined to my little hospital room, my mother had worked miracles and cleaned and organized my house, which was what we had originally planned on doing before my water broke. I came home to peace and cleanliness. We’re almost finished with the rest of the reorganization, too, and she has been a God-send for the preservation of my sanity.

Now, six weeks and a few days later, I am sitting here in the middle of the night because my husband is back at work and scheduled from 9 PM to 6 AM. Our schedules work, though, since my darling daughter sleeps for good stretches and has stints of wakefulness spaced far enough apart that I can keep up and take a nap when I need to. She’s already grown so much from her original 8 pounds 1 ounce, 20 1/4 inches, and I cried when she made the 1 month mark. I’m already begging time to slow down. She is beautiful, and sweet, and cuddly. I’m enjoying being her mother. We struggled with postpartum depression for a bit, but that’s being treated and I count my blessings daily for this healthy, amazing little angel.

Her first day

Sweet little feet

Her Pawpaw is the fire chief

The baby and her big sister

  Baby O’s Arrival Just over six weeks ago, I gave birth to my amazing baby girl. I know everybody's birth experience is different, but I want to share mine--not because something went wrong or I have this horror story to tell,  but because it's my story and it's something I feel people might want to know.