Crooked Line

 

Released from the hospital I laid awake pondering my situation.  More bills tumbled in from the new surgery.  The drugs lined my table which included prenatal vitamins. Why would I need prenatal vitamins? They removed an ovary, I wasn't pregnant?  I hoped this was the last of the doctors I would see for a while.  Other than my return visit to remove the stitches from my lower abdomen.  I marveled at the thought of being able to stand up straight and return to my hikes? How much longer until I felt like myself?  I still slumped through the hall at a snail's pace and grimaced in pain with each breath.  

 

Drugs, rest, fearful thoughts.

Drugs, rest, puppy hugs.

Drugs, rest, attempting to eat.

 

My days ran together until it was time to have the stitches removed.  A friend drove me to the doctor. He cut and pulled each strand while I sat there wondering why they hadn't used the dissolvable kind?

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They took more blood tests, and I returned home with thoughts of freedom in the near future.  That is when I noticed the scar.  It was crooked!  A twisted crooked line. I can't deal with crooked lines and it was on my body forever.  UGG! How hard could it have been to just cut a straight line?  Even if he had adjusted slightly it would have looked like a smile instead of an odd half tweaked smirk.  This unsettled me. 

 

But then, why would a crooked line on my lower abdomen bother me so badly? Was it just the rest of my world was so out of control and overwhelming that the only thing I could focus on was this stupid crooked line on my body.  I obsessed, I whined, I complained.  Why couldn't he draw a straight line?

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The Saga Continues….

 

A week into my stay at the fabulous hospital suite, located on the fourth floor, found nothing much had changed.  We had our daily shots, X-rays, blood tests, nurses coming and going. I was introduced to a new infectious doctor. He was the one monitoring the tube in my back and all of my blood results. I wondered often about where  Dr. Fog was, the man who performed that second procedure?  He had never made an appearance in my room? He had never checked on me, it was almost like the man never existed.  Dr. Gee came to see me daily and was beside himself with my lack of progress. He had no idea what to do with me, in over 30 years that he had been performing gall bladder surgeries he had never come across anything like this.  He rattled on about contacting UCLA's medical team and was attempting to follow their suggestions.  His best guess, we wait it out, and wait we did.  Day after day. Week after week. 

 

It wasn't until nine years later that I discovered why the absence of Dr. Fog.  I was watching the TV show "The Good Doctor" and Dr. Claire Browne, played by Antonia Thomas, made a mistake with a patient.  It was in the first season and  I was riveted to the TV as she was trying to deal with her mistake and her guilt. At one point she was standing outside the patient's room when the administrator of the hospital came and took her away.  She was not allowed to see, speak or be near the patient or any family member. It was hospital policy.  Watching that show opened my eyes to the absence of Dr. Fog. He must not have been allowed to come see me. I was finally at peace with the fact that he wasn't' just a jerk who didn't care about me, but that he was following protocol and had no options. 

 

My strength had progressed a little at least to the point that I could  walk to the restroom, as long as I had help. But they took away my rights to flush the toilet. I had to leave it as it was so the nurse could check and monitor how many fluids were going through my system. I shouldn't have felt ashamed, but somehow I did. All of these standard hospital procedures that nurses think nothing of grated against my lack of freedom and my sense of decency.  

 

The dreaded CT scan, how many does one person need? (By the end of this I will have had over seven.)   Since my blood counts were way off and no progress had been seen,  the doctors decided to send me down for my second CT scan.  Where was all that extra bile in my body going and why were the antibiotics not helping? Since I was still on a continuous IV they just pumped the iodine directly into me and into the machine I went. After the scan they pushed my bed aside and I laid on the table waiting for them to decide what to do next. That's when a lady nurse came over to my bed and pulled a curtain around us. She spoke as if she were dictating to a machine not a human being, "okay we're doing a pelvic exam right now hold on for a moment the doctor will be here in just a bit."

 

"WAIT, stop? What?" I didn't understand how a gallbladder surgery could turn into a pelvic exam? Wasn't I already humiliated enough, now you want  a doctor to ...NO, I didn't have the capacity to deal with this. I told the nurse to call up to my room and ask Cindy to come downstairs and be with me, I was not going through this alone.   

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The nurse grunted, "that will take more time, we need to do this now!"

 

"No, we don't have to do this now,  I'm not having this done without Cindy.  Go find her and I also want some Ativan because my emotions are frazzled.  I won't do it!  NO!"

 

Wow, who am I? I told a nurse no?  She fought with me for a while but I would not let down. I would not submit to their exam without an Ativan to help my nerves and without Cindy being with me.  So we waited longer, only this time, we waited because I wanted to wait.  It was my one chance to have some control over my body. When Cindy walked into the room I burst out in tears.  She knew I had enough.  That this extra bit of an exam was just one step over the limit of what I could handle.  Even though the nurse wanted to start immediately Cindy asked where my Ativan was, since it had not been provided yet. More waiting and finally the drugs hit and I could relax and in the open space of this CT scan room with just a flimsy curtain shielding me from the other doctors and nurses parading through, with Cindy holding my hand the exam was done.  I was returned to my room and I spent the rest of the day trying to shake off the tragedy that this whole experience was causing me. I still didn't understand why they would need to perform that invasion? 

 

Later that night when Dr. Gee came to see me, he explained that the CT Scan showed large abscesses on both of my ovaries, predominantly on my right ovary. They believed that the poison in my system found a place to reside and took up residency and continued to grow. I always wanted to grow children in my womb, not a giant abscess ball of poison on my ovaries. This nightmare had to stop. More waiting, more consulting with experts, more laying in bed dreaming of the day I could eat again, or dress myself or lock the door and keep everyone out.