My Single Mom Life

My sister and I arrived at the hospital 4:43am. They had 1 door open during that hour, and 1 elevator. It only led up to the maternity ward, but from there, they let us take the other elevator down to the floor I would be on.
We rode down and signed in, and then we waited till 5:30 when someone came out to get me and started on all the paperwork, and have me sign my DNR and confirm my living will in front of them. It was notarized and filed.
I was told to strip down, everything off, contact lenses and all jewelry out. I had taken most of my piercings out the night before, I just had to take out my tongue ring, earrings, and all my finger rings.
My sister was then allowed in, and she braided my hair in 2 side braids because it would be a long time before I'd be able to wash it and brush it again.

Then we waited till 7am to be rolled away.
I said see ya later to my sister, and was taken to pre-op where a team of about 30 people scurried around me asking questions, sticking IVs and needles in me, wrist bands with my allergies written on, my name, what my surgery was for. I had to confirm each and every step. Actually read my wrist bands out loud for them. It's a double verification process.
Everyone was so great, and then the anesthesiologist came over and said it was time for me to go to sleep. She injected something into the Iv and asked me my name. That was the last thing I said.

On February 10th, my sister who I gave my login info to, posted this.

In my recovery room, I was able to have my cell phone, and at times I blogged by phone.
On the 11th, which I don't even remember doing, I said I was ok. I think I told myself over and over I was ok.
I do know that while in ICU, I had a really hot male nurse named Bill. It sucked though. I had a tube down my throat. I recall waking up on the 10th with it in and freaking out, trying to rip it out. I couldn't believe I was on a ventilator.
Part 1 of the surgery was over, but they made me actually get up and put the brace on, and walk to a chair and sit down. Then they made me get up, walk back to the bed and take the brace off, and lay back down. Lots of being told to log roll.
It wasn't easy. I didn't feel like I could move. My back was tight and stiff, it just wasn't doing what I wanted it to do. I was in so much pain, unreal pain. Worse than anything I had ever felt before, and they were making me roll over and walk and stuff. I was so pissed about that.
Somehow I thought they'd just let me lay there and recover ya know? Other patients of other surgeries get to just lay there, why not me?
I was completely spaced out on morphine and whatever else they were pumping into me.
I remember having conversations with people I thought were there but they really weren't.
I remember Bill telling me I had to have some type of suppository, and did I want a female nurse to do it, or could he. I said it didn't matter, about 30 some odd people had already seen me naked. He laughed and rolled me over, and ta-da, something was shoved up my butt.

After being moved from ICU to my own room, I was bored and stoned. I took pictures with my phone of silly things like the end of my bed and the balloons my friend Jimmy brought me.

Apparently he had been to see me but I don't remember it at all.
I barely remember anyone visiting me until the end of the first week. Shell was there too. I don't remember.
The surgery and morphine took a lot out of me.

Every meal was the same, Boost protien drinks, to wash down a ton of pills. Stool softeners, vitamins, and something else I still can't recall. All the drugs, pain meds, block up your bowels something fierce. Stool softeners at every meal whether I wanted them or not. But they also had this powder stuff that they mixed with water and one hour later like magic, you poop.
I had a catheter and urine bag. Not attractive at all. It was awkward having this tube shoved in there and a huge bag of piss hanging off the side of my bed.
Everyday, they made me get up and put the brace on and walk with a walker. A few steps a little more, every single day, closer and closer to the hallway.

That's my hideous brace. It was totally uncomfortable. They made it for me before surgery, and now after, it didn't fit right. Duh. My body shape had changed drastically, and it was pushing on my stomach. Every time they put it on me, I got sick to my stomach, and then having to get up and walk with that on, and a bag of piss hanging off the front of the walker, I was just ill. The thought of that bag of pee made me nauseous.
I was doing ok though. I was awake and walking, I was told my back was straight, that I looked good.
Ok, maybe my back looked good, but the first chance I got to sneak a peek at myself in my compact, I knew people were lying about how I really looked. My hair was hideous, my face was swollen, and dark circles and bags hung under my eyes.

I had some really great nurses, and some not so great nurses.
The week before I went into surgery, I had my period, and something about moving all your internal organs around, plus all that massive stress on your body, women will get another one. This is going to happen, it ain't fun, it ain't planned, but it's gonna happen.
One of the nurses, a bad one, simply noted that I had started my period, and pulled my blankets back up over me. Didn't clean me up, or help me so I could clean myself up.
I was in tears over this. It was so humiliating to have that happen and not have anyone help me or help me help myself.
But, I did have a super, awesome nurse named Jolie. She was just a tech nurse, but she did so much for me during the whole 18 days I was there.
From my post I wrote about her when I first came home;
"She (Jolie) came in, saw me crying, asked what was wrong, I tell her and she immediately begins taking care of me. She washed my whole body and I mean my whole body. She cleaned me up, put a pad on me, took such good care of me, I love her."

You don't even know what it's like to not be able to take care of your basic needs yourself. It's humiliating, and to have someone just blow those needs off, made it horrifying.

That first week was really slow, but I did my daily walking, and did as they told me, and waited for part 2.

My sis brought my boys to see me on the 15th at night, the night before part 2, and they brought me this cute little white tiger. I thought it was a bear. I was so high on morphine, I'm surprised I could actually see it.

The morning of the second surgery started off the same as the first, everyone bustling around preparing for another long day in the OR.
I went to sleep and woke up in ICU again.
The second part was definitely the harder part.
Just to clarify what I mean by parts is this, I had anterior/posterior surgery. My spine is fused with screws and titanium rods, from T-3, (shoulder blades) to S-1, (tail bone).
On part 1, they opened my stomach up, a 12 inch long incision was made on my stomach to the left of my belly button. All my organs were moved aside so they could get to the spine from the front.
They inserted 4 new man made vertebrae and discs. Then they flipped me over and attached all the screws to my spine as far up as they needed to go.
Part 2, they reopened the incision on my back, and installed the 2 titanium rods, and spent about 10 more hours adjusting them to straighten me.
They used a computer and a bunch of wires to test my nerves out every step of the way. To make sure that body functions would still work. If it didn't, they went back and corrected, if it did, they moved onto the next one.
My correction went from a 75 degree curve, down to a 20. That's almost as straight as you can possibly be.

Both surgeries were a success.
I have to tell you that I was not scared.
I was excited to have the surgery, I needed it. The pain I was in had to end. It was the kind of pain that made me contemplate suicide. Not something people want to hear I'm sure, but when you are in so much pain for years on end with no end in sight, those thoughts go through your head.
I remember the morning of the first surgery, being in the waiting area in my OR gown and a blanket over me, watching a little tv before it was my turn, seeing an older woman in a bed across from me looking terrified. I have no idea what kind of surgery she was having, but she looked like at any moment she was going to cry.
She was clutching her husbands hand and trembling.
We caught each others eyes and I smiled at her. She smiled back.
I don't know if it actually made her feel any better, I just know how happy I was to be having my surgery finally, that I wouldn't let myself be afraid.
I knew the risks, and all the what ifs of what could go wrong, I just shuffled them away. This was my chance at a new beginning and I wasn't going to let fear get in my way.
I had signed my living will, naming who would take my sons if something should go wrong and I not come out alive. People had copies of it, it was notarized and on file with lawyers, hospitals, and family.
I knew and prepared, but fear wasn't an option for me.
I don't think I got scared for part 2 either. I just wanted to go go go, so I could live again, have my life back.

On February 19th, my sister logged in again and posted this,

Hi there, It's Jo again. I am very sorry that I haven't posted anything sooner, it's just been a crazy week here. Kat is ok. She made it through her second surgey on Thursday, and is once again in a world of pain. She has been up walking in the hallway today, with help from Physical therapists, and is sitting in a chair this evening (not by choice, mind you...) She really misses her cats, her sons and her computer, and is tired of being in the hospital. The nurses and doctors have been great, some of them exceptional, and one or two of them mean. The mean ones can ruin your whole day. Kat's surgeries have been a real success, according to the doctors, and she really looks straight. She can talk to us, and even almost laughed a few times, but isn't comfortable talking on the phone yet. It hurts to have to hold it up to her head, and she gets bummed out. It hurts to laugh or cry. It is the third day post-op today, and they say that is the worst day. I hope so. It is hard to see her like that. I will be going back up there tomorrow, and I promise I'll post again quicker. Jo

It sucked. The third day after the second surgery was definitely the worst for pain. Everything ached so badly, I was crying all the time.
This is also when we discovered I'm allergic to morphine.
Every time I slept after the second surgery, I would wake up with scratches all over my face and body, and clumps of hair were missing from my head.
A nurse finally figured out what was happening by staying and watching me sleep.
I was gouging and ripping at my own skin, tearing my own hair out in huge clumps and throwing it on the floor. I still have a bald spot on the back of my head.
They determined that it was an allergic reaction to the morphine, it was causing me to itch uncontrollably within minutes of each dose. They switched me over to a really high dosage of Dilaudid and the tearing myself apart stopped.

On the 20th, one of Doctor Moreno's surgeons came in. Doc Moreno has the most awesome team working for him. Cindy, his head and surgeon as well, is simply amazing. I cannot say enough good things about her. She was my rock before, during and after. She still rocks.
But it was one of his other team surgeons, Doctor Robert Creamer, who came to see me that day. He wanted to check my incision and see how I was doing.
He remarked on how good it looked. I was the only one at this point who hadn't seen my own new back.
I asked him to take a picture for me. He said he would if he had a camera. I whipped open my cell phone and clicked all the buttons and handed it to him.
I sat as far forward as I could go, and he took the most amazing picture I had ever seen. He handed it back to me and I clicked save super fast so I wouldn't lose it. And then I just stared at it.

There on the tiny little screen was my new back. It was beautiful. It was straight. Before, if I had sat forward that far, you would have seen this huge protruding bump on the left hand side, and actually be able to see the drastic curve of my spine.
It was straight, there was no bump.
I laid back down and clutched my cell to my chest and began weeping.
It had all been worth it. Everything that had happened so far, and everything that was yet to come, it had all been worth it just to see that picture.

The next few days sucked major ass.
People had been calling me to see how I was doing, I didn't want to talk to anyone.
I had taken a few steps backwards in the pain department. My muscles were spasming all the time which hurt so bad, I still couldn't do things for myself like go to the bathroom on my own.
One night, all those damn stool softeners finally caught up to me, and I had to go so bad. I rang the buzzer a bunch of times, it was very late at night, and no one came.
I tried to get up and put my brace on myself and couldn't.
I'm sure you can figure out what happened to me without me saying it.
Humiliating doesn't even begin to describe it.
By the time a nurse finally came in, I was in hysterics. I yelled at her, where had she been? Why didn't she come? Why didn't she answer the intercom? I was a mess and had to be cleaned. If she had just come, this wouldn't have happened.
Two nurses had to clean up my bed and me.
I was so mortified and embarrassed. They kept trying to console me saying it happened all the time, that it happens to patients, not to be so down about it.
How could I not be down about it? I was 35 years old and had been using the toilet since I was 2 ya know? I cried myself to sleep after that.
Luckily, that only happened that one time. I made sure that people knew that when I rang that damn buzzer, someone, anyone, I didn't care who, came in and helped me put that brace on so i could use the bathroom.

Doctor Moreno had ordered one xray that required me drinking something that I can still clearly recall had the color and what I can only imagine, the taste of piss.
I drank down the two giant cups of it and was sent down for the xray.
The first time they did it, it went fine, no problems. It did hurt because they made me sit up and then lay back down on an xray panel.
I was then taken back to my room and a few hours later, an orderly came in to get me for another xray. i said doc only ordered one and we had done it. He said not according to what he was reading.
So off I went again.
Then it happened again later that day and again the next morning.
During the last one, they just jammed the panel under me and whacked part of my incision causing it to open up a bit.
My scar is all funky in that spot still.

On the morning of the 25th, Doc Moreno came to see me and I told him what happened. He held my hand and apologized and said he'd be right back.
I could hear him out in the hallway yelling at someone about the xrays. He said it was written right there in black marker, huge letters, one xray, why was I sent for 4? I heard a lot of it must have been a mistake and sorrys.
He came back in and held my hand and again apologized. Then he told me if I could walk around the floor hallway one full time, I could go home.
I was so excited. I called my sister and told her to come get me, I was going to walk that floor if it killed me.
The physical therapist came in, helped me with the brace, handed me my walker and said let's go for a stroll baby.
I walked the entire floor. I had to get out of there. Hospitals are so very boring and I missed my sons, my cats, my home.
The ride home was terrible. I had a million pillows to sit on, on my sides, behind my back, I reclined my seat back as far as I could go and tried to sleep the ride away. I felt every single pothole all through my entire body.

Coming home was awesome. I sat in my recliner with my kitties who missed me so much. Kali had licked her belly hairless with nervousness apparently thinking I wasn't coming back. Nova was all over me. It felt awesome to be home.

Mark and Sebastian were so good. Helping me in and out of the chair, in and out of the bathroom, they made me food, a little snack that night.
Mark came to my chair playing the part of the waiter and asked if I would like a snack. I said sure, something sweet.
He went back to the kitchen and told Sebastian the "chef" who prepared a delightful snack all laid out so nicely on a plate.
Slices of bananas, and 2 peanut butter cups cut into little triangles.
The next few days were hard. My antibiotics plus my brace which I had to wear all the time except when I was sleeping, were causing me to be violently ill.
I stopped taking those and called my doc about the brace. He said on my next appointment which was in a few days, we'd take a look at it.
At that appointment, he ordered a new brace and said I could stop taking the antibiotics because of what they were doing to my stomach.

Pictures of my new brace and updates after I got home can be found here.

Would I do it all again? Yes, in a heartbeat. Even with all the pain, all the bad nurses, all the hair pulling and stomach issues that came up, I'd definitely do it again.
It has been worth it. All of it.
Am I completely free of pain today? No I'm not. But 75% of the pre-surgery pain I was in, is gone. I can walk again without my left leg going numb and turning purple. I can do things again, which is what my goal was. I spent over 5 years not being able to do even the simplest things with my sons, because doing them would cause incredible amounts of pain while doing them and for days after.
It was all worth it, no regrets, even knowing all the risks, I'd still do it again if time sent me back.
I'm celebrating today. I made it through my surgeries and a whole year without any major setbacks. My curve has not come back, my scar looks fabulous, I can do so much more now than I could 5 years ago. I enjoy life again and that's the most important thing to me.