Friday, May 20, 2011
Sometimes I hear strange noises coming from the depths of the backyard at night. The sound is blood-curdling. I always assumed that it was the sound of an animal being attacked. I try to put those gruesome thoughts from my mind and just fall back asleep. But today, via the strange power of the interwebs, I discovered that the sound is actually that of a barking fox. Check it out-- it's a terrifying sound to hear when you're tucked into your bed at night.
If you've been following my Flickr photos lately, you've perhaps noticed that most of the photos I've taken lately have been with my iPhone. I've become addicted to Instagram, a photo editing and sharing app for the iPhone. I love that I can connect with people all over the world and share photos and editing techniques with them. It's crazy. This morning I was at the dining room table eating my melon, and someone in Japan, whose photos I really admire, complimented my photos. It's nice to know that even though I am stuck at home recovering from surgery, I still have a way to be creative, and to share and interact with people who have similar interests. The photo for this post is of my typical morning, which always involves cold-pressed iced coffee. I took this photo on my phone using the Camera+ camera, and edited it using the MagicHour app.
Steph went back to work today, so I've been home by myself this afternoon. I've been feeling anxious about being alone today. My options are limited as far as what I'm able to do. I sleep a lot. I wander around the house and the yard and take photos with my iPhone. I edit photos in bed. I flip through magazines halfheartedly. Sometimes I watch stuff on Hulu, but sadly even paying attention to something for 30 minutes is a stretch at this point. Having Steph here for the week was nice because I always had someone to talk to and I never felt lonely or even that depressed. Now it's just me and my thoughts and it's difficult not to wander down the path of feeling sorry for myself. When she was here, it felt kind of like a nice staycation where I just happened to take sitz baths three times a day and pop dilaudid. I almost forgot about the huge crater of an open wound on my butt.
On the plus side, I've been feeling so much love. I have incredible friends and family. My mom had her own medical scare this week and was hospitalized for a few days, so she was unable to come out to Baltimore to help care for me, but we have been talking every day on the phone and it's been really nice. Steph, of course, has taken phenomenal care of me. I received lovely and truly thoughtful gifts from Andrew, Chad, Kathy, Rich, Erin, Matt, and Anabel. My grandmother has been visiting and bringing us dinners. Jess and Mike have visited and brought me mocha coconut frappuccinos. Every time I would start to feel down, the phone would ring, a gift would show up at my door, or I'd receive a new sweet e-mail from someone in my inbox. It makes such a difference and I am forever grateful to have these incredible, generous, and loving people in my life.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Here we have a photo I took of an adorable sheep at the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival over the weekend.
HA! Now that I've sucked you in with a cute animal picture, I can reveal my diabolical plan, which is to gripe about my medical problems and upcoming surgery.
Yes, I am having surgery tomorrow morning. Dear reader, as you may recall, I was hospitalized for a week in January with a MRSA infection. Said insidious infection decided to form a terrifically painful abscess on my left buttock. After my release from the hospital, I cared for my surgical wound as directed by my colorectal surgeon. It did slowly heal, but I noticed that instead of staying closed, it would open again about once a week. We developed a routine. Every week, it would close. All would be well for about a glorious day or two. Then I would start sweating through my pajamas at night. I would get fevers throughout the day. I had absolutely no energy. A searing pain would travel across my left buttock. And then, the abscess would pop open and we would start the dance all over again. I've been trapped in this cycle since about March.
After determining that this was not par for the course with an abscess, I visited my surgeon again. He informed me that the abscess had either 1) always been a fistula, or 2) healed incorrectly and become a fistula. Surgery would be necessary. Which brings us to today, the day before my surgery.
I'm a curious person. I like to know what's going to happen to me. This means that I've done research on the surgery and sadly, I'm pretty clear as to what it involves. Basically, I am going to have a huge, gaping open wound on my ass for about 4-8 weeks, depending on the size and depth of the fistula. If you want to know what a fistulotomy involves, and what the open wound looks like after surgery, please refer to this photo. It is graphic. Don't say I didn't warn you. This is actually one of the smaller ones I've seen. The surgeon lays open the fistula, clears out the infected gook, and then you go on your way with an open wound that needs to heal from the inside out. In the case of this photo, a seton (plastic tube) was inserted to keep the wound from closing over again. I may or may not need that. No way to tell until they go spelunking in my butt cheek and see what the hell is going on in there.
I've never had surgery before. Sure, the surgeon cut into my abscess to drain it, but that was just under a local anesthetic. For this procedure, I will be totally under. That's a difficult concept for me to grasp; I don't like to feel out of control. I hate the idea of someone cutting into me while I'm just passed out on a steel table. I'll have no idea what happened until I wake up and someone decides to inform me. The loss of control is a big personal issue for me. Also, I've seen Steph have surgery, and she does not react well to anesthesia. I'm afraid that I could experience a similar reaction, as I generally do not respond well to drugs and tend to be allergic to almost everything.
Truly though, the most daunting aspect of this entire ordeal is the recovery. It's supposed to be slow and painful. I have a high pain tolerance, but when I'm rendered immobile I become really whiny and cranky, probably more so than the average person. I expect to be feeling sorry for myself a lot and crying. In fact, and to those who know me, this should indicate the seriousness of my personal crisis, I even asked my mother to come and visit and help while I am recovering. I generally need to get to a pretty sorry point before I ask for help with anything. It's one of my worst qualities. I love my mother, but I really did not want to bother her and ask her to come out from Arizona to help care for me (not to mention the very real possibility that she is going to have to do wound care on my butt, which is taking our relationship back about 28 years). When my Dad was sick, one of the worst parts for me, as a caregiver, was seeing how much it shamed him to need the kind of physical care that he did. I didn't mind doing those kinds of things for him, but seeing him crying and ashamed to be needing help in that way, it broke my heart. I don't want to know that I'm making the people I love feel that way. It was difficult for me to admit that I was going to need help. It helped to think that not only would she be helping me, but Steph as well. I really don't want Steph to be any more overwhelmed than she absolutely needs to be.
I considered not even doing the surgery (this thought was brief, don't worry), but then I realized that having fevers every week and not being able to go out and live my life the way I want to is not a long term solution. And make no mistake, my quality of life has taken a dive. I've tired all the time. We had to cancel plans to go up to Philadelphia a few weeks ago because I knew I couldn't sit two plus hours in the car. Plus, the longer I wait, the greater the possibility that the size of the fistula will increase. And the longer my immune system is compromised, the greater the chance that I'll pick up some other nasty infection. Thankfully, once the surgery is over and done with, there is a 95% chance that I will be completely healed and there won't be a recurrence.
I know I've neglected my blog. I'd say I'm going to be better, but it's doubtful that I'll be out taking pictures in the next few weeks. Maybe if I'm up to it, I'll just write some posts without photos. I'd like to apologize in advance if I am whiny and annoying.
I look forward to closing this chapter of my life and getting back to camping, kayaking, photography, and canning.
Oh yes, in some of the best news ever, Jess and Mike got engaged on Sunday. They've already asked me to photograph the wedding, and of course I said yes. Jess is also being so sweet to me and has asked me to help her plan the wedding. She's making it seem like she wants the help, but I think it's really just a ploy to give me something to do while I'm laid up in bed after surgery.