I know you guys likely feel like this story has no end in sight. That I'm going to keep writing about it until you die of boredom. But, GOOD NEWS! This is the last installment. And while it hasn't been pleasant for me to re-tell it, it's been really important to my friends and family. Since I didn't answer my phone the entire time I was in the hospital, only a few of them know the story ... and most of THEM only know bits and pieces of it, mostly what they were able to get from texts from Lisa.
So thanks for being patient and indulging us all as I've written it out. Now, ONWARD, to hear more about Our Very Favorite Subject, my hemorrhoids.
For whatever reason, on Wednesday they came back with a vengeance. And when I say "with a vengeance," I mean they were the worst they've ever been, and I had to lie 100 percent still and not talk, laugh, cough or move my body one iota in any way or I would cry. My bottomparts were seizing up at random times, and the pain was so unbearable I begged and begged for the nurse to call the surgeon. Lisa was back, and she tried to help me make my case.
I can't remember how many times I asked for the nurse to call him, but ultimately I said, "Forget the surgeon. CALL ANESTHESIOLOGY AND GET ME AN EPIDURAL." I suppose I wore her down, although she still apparently didn't believe me about how intense the pain was, because after a few hours of begging, she came in with another nurse.
"Before we bother the surgeon with this, we're just gonna take a look and see what we see. Roll over and pull your legs up."
So I did. And then she said, "MY, THAT IS IMPRESSIVE. We're going to call the surgeon now. He might come to the room instead of you having to go over to his office."
"WELL THANK YOU VERY MUCH," said my hemmies.
The surgeon DID INDEED come to my room and lance the hemorrhoids, but he only gave me two shots of local anesthetic instead of the eight to 10 that he'd given me in his office. So when he lanced them, I felt every. single. cut. And when he drained them, I felt every. single. squeeze. I was holding onto the bedrails and sobbing. It wasn't pretty.
And then he left me, just like that. I had Lortab and Demerol, but they didn't touch the pain. Lisa spent the night with me, but even my elephant-tranq-level sleep meds couldn't overcome the pain and force me to sleep. I sobbed until I literally ran out of tears. It was a truly miserable night.
But come Thursday, six days after I'd been readmitted, the pain had subsided from, OH, A 15 TO A MERE 10, and Grayson came to check me out.
I wasn't feeling mental anymore, I had some sleep medication that the psychiatrist was willing to keep tweaking until we settled on the perfect combo, and I DESPERATELY wanted to be with my kids. I missed them so much it hurt. I hated missing moments like Nicholas' 7th birthday (but his teacher was kind enough to text me a picture):
And moments like this:
I will say (since I'm sure some are wondering) that although I had a post-partum BP event and substantial sleep interruption, I never once felt traditional post-partum depression. I never wanted to harm myself or my kids, and as a matter of fact, I wanted to be with them more than ever. I just wasn't capable of it until Thursday.
Now that I've been home for just over a week, I'm still working with my doctors on the right combination of sleep meds. My BP is fairly well-managed, but sleep is still proving a challenge. I can't support Grayson by getting up with Amelia at night, because the meds don't allow me to wake up in the middle of the night. As a matter of fact, right now they're keeping me asleep for 12 hours, which would be great -- if we didn't have a newborn to care for.
And speaking of Grayson, he had complete responsibility for all four kids while I was in the hospital the second time around, and he did a GREAT job. He was a real hero and kept things as normal as possible for them while I wasn't able to be at home.
I feel so grateful that I had the love and support of my friends and family as I navigated this entirely new territory, and I'm happy to be home participating in all the precious moments I felt like I was missing in the hospital.
"Blessed" doesn't even begin to describe it.
