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A Tale of Two Tubies

7 Aug

It was the best of tubes, it was the worst of tubes. It was a day of anxiety, it was a night of drug induced craziness…

Chapter One: An Afternoon of Peeing

I arrive at the hospital with Shmerson and my mom at 4pm as scheduled. I’m freaking out. My mom’s freaking out. Shmerson is freaking out but hiding it using stupid jokes.

I get checked in, and the nurse checking me in notes that the anesthesiologist, with whom I had met a couple of days earlier, had put in my chart that I should get some happy pills pre-op. In a moment of jest, I ask that he carve a smiley face in the Valium. He was not amused. Too bad those darn male nurses don’t have much of a sense of humor.

In the pre-pre-op room, I down the Valium, and go to pee for what is most likely the 20th time that day. Apparently I am a nervous pee-er. Since I hadn’t had any water for the last 5 hours I was surprised that there was liquid coming out of my bladder at all.

The operating doc came in. Let’s just call him the Russian. Cause that’s cool and gangsta, and he was Russian. The night before in a fit of panic, I had called him and asked him to talk me through the procedure. So when he came in I was all set. Just waiting for the happy pills to start kicking in because really – this was getting ridiculous and I needed me some drugs. The Russian asked if I had any more questions. My mom and Shmerson looked at me expectantly. After all, I am the annoying know-it-all patient. They were sure I had a bunch. I did, but they were taken care of the night before.

It was a pretty anti-climactic conversation. It basically went something like this: I don’t care what you find, you’re not taking out my ovaries. Oh – and please press extra hard on my stomach after you’re done so that most of the air comes out.

For some reason, the Russian was not amused either. Something about this hospital keeps people from being amused. He gave me this look that said “I’ve done this a million times, I’ll squeeze the freaking air out.”

I smiled and said: “Forgive me, I’m a blogger.” I think the Valium had started to kick in, because I’m sure this made sense to no one except myself, and perhaps Shmerson.

From the pre-pre-op room I got wheeled into the pre-op room. That’s when the real fun began. First, I grilled every nurse in the room: “Tell me this has been done a million times and I’ll be fine.” They all looked at me kind of strangely. Nodded. Nothing more. Yeah, no humor whatsoever. After another nervous pee or five, the mood became elevated. It was time for pictures!

I believe this was me attempting to dramatize my anxiety for the sake of you, dear readers. Apparently I'm not such a good actress when I'm stoned.

Ahh, dear Lefty, this is the last we ever saw of thee.

Did I mention I was stoned out of my gourd?

I don’t know who’s idea they were. But I’m assuming mine. Now they’re up here for posterity. Not sure that’s so much with the wise either. Ahh well.

Chapter Two: An Evening of Drugging

After too long a wait I got wheeled into the operating theater where the Russian was hanging out, waiting for me. I was hauled up onto stirrups, and the anesthesiologist walked in. He was wearing one of those head covering scrub-thingies doctors wear, only it was covered in pot leaves and the jamaican flag. At least one guy in this place has a sense of humor.

I started feeling heavy. I asked rasta-dude if he’d already started the drugs. He said yes. My intelligent answer: Well, that explains that. Then I looked at the Russian again and asked “It’ll be ok right?” He smiled and said good night. I think. I was pretty much knocked out at this stage.

About an hour and a half later I get woken up with an oxygen mask on my face and a burning in my cooch. Not ideal, but hey – I’m still here. So that’s all good. I ask a nurse what time it was. And I asked when I can see my husband. I also think I told one of the nurses about a dream I had when I was under. But that part is kind of a blur. Nice to know you can dream during these things though. Too bad the nurse didn’t write it down. Silly nurses.

They wheel me into the room where I’d be staying for the night, shared with two other  women (one with a husband with a penchant for snoring – more on that later). Shmerson and my mom come in. I kiss Shmerson and tell him he’s the love of my life. I remember saying it once. He has since informed me that I said it 4 or 5 times and after the 5th, when he kissed me, he decided that my mouth tasted like a dentist’s office. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Oh, the romance of it all!

At 9:30pm the visiting hours police came around, and I told Shmerson and mom to go in peace. I was a-ok and drugged out of my mind.

So much so – that I actually outed myself on facebook by accident. This was a good one. At 10pm my FB status read thusly: “Drugs are good, mmmkay? Especially the post-general-anesthesia variety.”

At the time I thought this was witty. But lo and behold, it actually brought my situation to the attention of several FB buddies who had no idea that I was a crazy infertile with a tendency to lose babies in the first trimester. After a concerned comment, I had no choice but to answer: “Had lap surgery to take care of a blocked tube. Stupid infertility. Ahh well.” This was all good in the end because a swarm of my friends who knew about my situation finally felt free enough to comment about sperm swimming inside my uterus and other such fun things. I guess my lady parts have finally crossed into the final social media frontier. Maybe now I can post some bitter infertile statuses. That would be nice.

I think I also may have skyped with Elphaba at one point. And I’m pretty sure a couple of friends called me. But most of that was a blur. I was also starting to get hungry. But the nurse suggested I wait, to avoid puking. So I did. But I drank. A lot. This would complicate things later.

Chapter Three: A Night of Awkward Flatulence

So all of the visitors are gone, the lights are out, and I can’t sleep. Not because of the pain, but because all of the leftover air in my abdomen has decided to begin it’s graceful exit out of my back end. Now, generally speaking, this wouldn’t have been a problem. Except that in the bed next to me was a scared looking woman who’s husband had snuck back in to spend the night. She was scared so I didn’t want to tattle. But really, farting in front of a completely strange man put me in quite the uncomfortable position.

So I snuck them out quietly for the first couple of hours. One little bit at a time, grateful that they were of the silent-but-not-deadly variety. Then, I was ready to pee.

Now mind you, I was still in a buttocks-exposing hospital gown, no underwear, and covered with iodine. And there was a a rather large man napping next to my bed. I was stoned, gassy, stitched up, and connected to an IV.

I won’t go into the gory details, but making it to pee took some serious maneuvering. Oh, and it hurt  like a mo-fo. Apparently, they put a catheter in you while they do this stuff. Now I truly know the meaning of “it burns when I pee.” Yet another fun experience to add to my infertility checklist. Oh! I should totally make a checklist! Maybe in the next post.

So back to bed I awkwardly go. Now I’m pretty much ready to sleep. But loyal hubby next door apparently likes to snore. Loudly. I am not a happy camper. So in retaliation I let one rip in the hopes of waking him up and making the snoring stop. No dice. Ahh well, at least more air was expelled.

Chapter Four: A Morning of Impatience

I get woken up at 5am to get my vitals checked and my IV removed. I’ve only been asleep for an hour thanks to Snorey McSnoreson in the next bed. Then a disgusting breakfast is served. It’s been 24 hours since I last ate so I down the roll on the tray hungrily, and am grateful to Shmerson when he shows up an hour later sporting a large pineapple-mango smoothie. But before all this, I have a very big decision to make: Snorey is in the room, I’m half naked and covered in iodine, I’ve got three X’s of stiching on various points of my stomach, and I need to get dressed.

Somehow I decide to wait until we get home to shower. Somehow I maneuver the curtain enough so that Snorey doesn’t get any glimpses of my currently brown-tinged lady parts. Somehow, with no assistance I actually manage to dress myself just in time for Shmerson, the smoothie, and the Russian coming in to give me the post-op.

Still not clear on the details. I think that’s for another post. But basically, he only made 3 incisions because Ole’ Righty was just fine, but we kissed Ole’ Lefty goodbye because she was dysfunctional. So now I’m asymmetrical. That’s very infertility-chic, don’t you think?

It took them another freaking hour to discharge me. By that time I was grumpy, bloaty, itchy, and smelly. And I was pretty sick of sneaking around with the passing of the gas. But finally I was let go to sweet, blessed, farting-friendly freedom.

Chapter 5: A Day of Abhorrent Caloric Intake

I come home to a care package courtesy of Squish and Me0Me containing chocolate, and lots of it. Later in the day, my mother brought over yummy food. And – gasp! – baked goods with white flour and sugar in them. If you knew my mother you would understand that this is a first. I take the blessed shower, check out the weird tic-tac-toe game I’ve got going on on my abdomen, and sleep. And sleep. And sleep some more. Oh – and eat. A lot. So much so that I actually resorted once again to Dr. Google. Apparently excessive hunger is a side effect of invasive surgical procedures. Who knew! Yet another fun factoid for my little list.

Finally, the farting stops and the shoulder pain starts. Ahh well. I knew it was too good to be true. At least I have a heart shaped heating pad and plenty of advil to get me through it. But really, I think I preferred the farting. Not so much with the lady-like, but far less painful. I’ll make sure to let my body know that if I have to go through this again, to please release all air and gasses through pre-made orifices. That’s what they’re there for. Maybe it’ll cooperate. But who knows, my body is kind of weird, and I’m sure rather upset at me for this whole cutting it open thing I just made it go through. We’ll see in the coming days what amount of revenge it decides to partake in. For now, well, we’ve got a heart shaped pillow! Bonus.

Epilogue: An Ode to Ole’ Lefty

Lefty, oh lefty, I thought you were good

I thought you would survive when they looked under the hood

I thought that your sister Ole’ Righty was the bad one 

But apparently it was you who was troubled and barren

Lefty, you left me,  now I’m out of the stirrup

I hope Ole’ Righty is ready to knock me up

If Righty is right then we should be okay

And I should be a preggo keeping ectopics at bay

Lefty, oh Lefty, I can’t say I’ll miss you

I’m sure you caused more trouble than good

Lefty, oh Lefty, you were such a bother

So I’m glad that you left when they looked under the hood

And now, I leave you with a song, a tribute, a goodbye to my left tube. Good riddance.

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21 Responses to “A Tale of Two Tubies”

  1. bodegabliss August 7, 2011 at 00:46 #

    I feel kind of bad laughing as much as I did at this post, but in the words of you: you funny me! Glad to “hear” (read) that you still have your spirit as (of course) I’ve been worrying about you. I hope this fixed everything under the hood for you, and you’ll be happily pregnant in no time.

    Love you!

  2. Whoismom August 7, 2011 at 04:24 #

    Oh Mo, have I mentioned that I love you? you remind me that even in the weirdest most awkward situations smarts and a sense of humor is exactly what we need !

  3. Wendy August 7, 2011 at 07:37 #

    I am also infertility chic with no left tube. I am so happy you got through the surgery without any complications save the aftermath of trying to sleep next to a snoring man-bear. I really hope and pray that this step proves to be a good one, and yields the results that we all want for you. Go righty, go!

  4. Chon August 7, 2011 at 08:04 #

    You are a funny girl. I sat down with a cuppa and chocolate to read. Guess what?! You did it! Very proud of you xx

    • Mo August 7, 2011 at 20:55 #

      LOL thanks. it was rather long, wasn’t it? 🙂

      • chon August 8, 2011 at 03:33 #

        I was in need of a good read. I opened it saw it was a goody, made a cuppa some restorative chocolate and settled in. Loving the photos to by the way. Do you think I could get that hat in pink?

        • Mo August 8, 2011 at 12:50 #

          I would say yes, but that would require me returning to that godforsaken humorless hospital again. So no. But I’ll look into it.

          • chon August 9, 2011 at 07:15 #

            Maybe we could shop on line at HospitalsRUs? I see a money making idea here.

  5. Christina August 7, 2011 at 15:54 #

    Yay for the good drugs! Yay for you coming through all that the same lovable, snarky Mo!!

    Think of the post-op gas as practice. I’ve never been this gassy in my entire life! It takes mad skills to keep them quiet and under the radar.

    I’m definitely on Team Righty!!

    • Christina August 7, 2011 at 20:52 #

      ps- I can not get enough of those pics! They crack me up!!

      • Mo August 7, 2011 at 20:56 #

        Thanks. I’m actually developing a paranoia that someone will pick them up and co-opt them as a meme.
        THIS IS NOT A SUGGESTION! 😛

  6. Kristen August 7, 2011 at 18:34 #

    So glad you’re home and recovering. 🙂
    Doesn’t the shoulder pain suck? I had that happen and no one had warned me about it…it was so bizarre and I had no idea what was happening…thank goodness for Dr. Google!

  7. lis August 8, 2011 at 02:30 #

    hope you are feeling better. surgery sucks!
    so, so glad you were able to come home to rest. i hope the shoulder pain has receded some. that was the worst part of my appendectomy!!

    thank you for the comment on my blog. i have to call tomorrow and see if my surgery has been scheduled yet. it will be aug 24 or 26 i think. i don’t think i mentioned in my post, but the MFM will have a general surgeon attending due to my surgical hx and my colon being adhered to the back of my uterus, so he had to find a day the other guy could do it 🙂
    crossing my fingers and hoping all goes smoothly. my first operation was a doozy and ended up being three hours. praying this is a ten minute procedure like it is for girls with a more normal set-up 🙂
    thanks again for asking.
    xoxo
    lis

    • Mo August 8, 2011 at 12:45 #

      Oy! Well – hang in there! At least you have a couple of weeks to (attempt to) not let it worry you. Wishing you luck!

      • lis August 11, 2011 at 02:28 #

        thank you. i feel like i might need some of that!
        xoxo

  8. Jjiraffe August 8, 2011 at 08:29 #

    I’m so glad you’re out and in recovery at home with baked goods and chocolate at hand. And in fine form, those pictures and captions and farting stories (I am 12) cracked me up.

    I am observing a moment of silence for ole Lefty. Troublesome he was (ole Lefty is a “he” to me: who knows why). Lefty is gone. Long live Righty!!

    • Mo August 8, 2011 at 12:46 #

      I wanted to call him a “he” too! But then Shmerson insisted because in hebrew, a fallopian tube is referred to in a female vernacular. Silly Shmerson.

  9. Cattiz J August 8, 2011 at 10:55 #

    Glad to see you could write this with such humor. LOL! And that you are back home resting. You did it!

  10. me0me August 9, 2011 at 22:22 #

    I love this post thi————s much 😀
    Now on to the next one!

  11. Infertile Days August 22, 2011 at 04:25 #

    I love your blog. It is my favorite and I have been reading it for a while now. I am on a break right now too but I am still on the computer WAY too much searching for – ??? answers/anything that may help me out.
    So I am going to have a laparoscopy later this week and I was wondering how many days you needed to be off work? It sounded like it was more uncomfortable than they are telling me, or is this because you had a tube removed? They are removing a small fibroid from my uterus, as well as checking me out to see if there’s anything wrong that they can see. Can’t decide if it will be good thing or a bad thing if they find something. Is there anything else you wanted them to look for? I somehow feel like they just wont really care and only do whats written down! I have to tell them before they knock me out to please check me out thoroughly and find me some answers.
    Thanks

    • Mo August 22, 2011 at 11:44 #

      Thanks so much!
      I’m emailing you right now with some info. Hopefully it’ll be helpful!

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