And the beat goes on . . .

Oh man! So it's been a few days since I blogged and I guess you could say a lot has gone in those five days.

On Friday, I went into the hospital for a "pouch-scope" to try to help figure out why I was still in so much pain. When I got to the hospital, they had me change into a Johnny - it felt like the good 'ole days again . . . NOT! They brought me in to do my vitals and a little while later I was brought down to the OR. My Dad was with me because I was going to be put to sleep and with anesthesia they don't allow you to drive. Because my surgery was pediatric they allowed him to come down to the prep room, after "scrubbing up," and stay with me until I was wheeled across the hall to the OR. What I found funny was that, I was only having a pouch-scope. I have had 9 colonoscopies - it was nothing. I felt like they were blowing it way out of proportion. However, when I was having MAJOR surgery they made my parents leave me way ahead of time. Regardless, I was given an IV, which for me is no big thing anymore, and brought into the OR. My doctor was sitting against the wall yawning - that was comforting. They put the cold stickies on my chest and gave me and oxygen mask. They put a "seat-belt" around my legs and gave me the first doasge of the anesthesia. They explain everything to you, step-by-step. The nurse told me they were going to give me the complete dosage of anesthesia and that I should dose off shortly. After a few minutes she asked me if I was feeling sleepy, when I said no the anesthesia doctor started screaming "I NEED A FLUSH, I NEED A FLUSH." Anyone who is not a regular for these procedures probably would have been concerned. I knew a flush was just saline solution they put in through the IV to make sure it is working properly. Within minutes I had a burning feeling in my hand and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the recovery room. Although, I did ask the nurse why my hand was burning before I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up the muscles in my legs were killing me. The nurse explained that it was probably because of the position they had me in for the procedure. She said it was probably like a frog, on it's back. HOW ATTRACTIVE!! Anyway, they brought my dad in and he had already spoken with the doctor. There was no news, and as they say: No news, is good news. He said that the pain was probably just my body's rediculous way of healing. He did, however, say that at one of the spots where they had to sew was narrowing and therefore he dialated it. All I know was that I was a little sore, but by Saturday felt a world of difference. Here it is Tuesday, September 9 - 41 days after my surgery and I am FINALLY feeling better.

Saturday I had to move some furniture that I had bought for my apartment with hopes I was returning to school. I am letting the girls have it seeing as though A: I'll be there in January and B: It won't do me any good in a box in my basement. So, T, one of my best friends, moved it for me. I, more or less, went for the ride and to visit friends. It was so good to be back at that school and I was really sad to have to leave.

Sunday I washed my sheets. I know that sounds a little rediculous but because I was bed ridden for so long they were disgusting. Once they were in the wash I attacked the rest of my rooom. It's amazing what a difference having a clean room makes.

Then Monday arrived. It was moving day for Nana. I offered to help knowing that I couldn't do any lifting but figured that while everyone else moved the heavy stuff and took care of paperwork, etc. I could pack up the small stuff. At about 9:00-9:15 my two uncles and my aunt arrived at my house. Nana was being picked up at the assissted living at 10 am and we didn't want to be there when she was leaving. The 5 of us, my mom came too, left at 9:47 to head to the assissted living. When we got there, the ambulance that wasw transporting her was parked at the front door. We decided to wait to go in so that we wouldn't run into her. That would have been a huge mess of a scene. Sitting there, in the car, with the ambulance in full view upset me. My Nana shouldn't have to go through this. Why her?! Granted, as I said in my last post, she has no idea what going on; but still: I do and I know she wouldn't like it. I cried a little but the tears really started to come when they wheeled her out on the stretcher. She was strapped down by two "seat-belts" and was in more of a sitting up position. She didn't seem upset but she seemed like she had no clue what was going on. It was miserable. Regardless, the ambulance left and we invaded her room. We got everything and headed to Grandpa's. With everything that has gone on with Nana, my Grandpa has gone from an upbeat man to a wreck. Him, like her, is not the same person I knew growing up. That was the end of my deed for the day. My mom took Grandpa up to the nursing home and they did all the paperwork. They said that she seemed okay but like always, wasn't talkative.

I hope that this place is a little better for her. And that, even though at this point we don't know how long it will be, she is comfortable until the very end. I love her to death and it eats me up inside that I can't prevent her from going through this. Like my aunt had said, I've known so many people that have suffered from cancer but none of them have been so close in realtion to me. I hate it.

With that, the week continues. I have the typical 67 million doctor appointments this week and with each new day look forward to feeling better and better.

Until next time,
Kate ;-)