Adventures in Druggy Land

So where were we??

Oh. *pause for slight embarrassment*

I blogged under the influence of drugs, didn't I? Sorry. I'm sure it wasn't the prettiest of posts. But it was important to mark the occasion, even if I had enough in me to tranquillize a large horse.

I'd probably better explain before you write me off as a bad joke...

Last week I found out that I didn't have cancer. Which, you'll agree, makes it a pretty awesome week. The whole CT-scan-wetting-your-pants-thingy that I told you about the other day, well, that was the last in a string of tests attempting to find out what was wrong with me. Which, in the end, didn't confirm anything other than that I didn't have cancer. I was, as you can imagine, relieved beyond belief at this. However, being in constant pain meant that I was still quite antsy to find out what was going on in my guts, and I wasn't really satisfied with the diagnosis of "hypochondriac" given to me by the first surgeon I saw. Call me picky, but I wanted someone who was interested in helping me.

So anyway, after the last bloke blew me off as a sook and told me to go home and simply live with the (imagined) pain, I got a bit cross. (*insert some sweary words here*) Christian came with me to see my GP so that we could insist on getting some help for me.

Dr. No-Name explained that the tests had come back clear, meaning there was nothing wrong with me. I needed to take the antidepressants that he prescribed to help me sleep, which would in turn lift my ability to cope with pain.

Christian explained right back to Dr. No-Name that since the tests had come back clear, it simply meant we had not yet found the cause of my pain. And that I had no problem sleeping. And that my capacity to deal with pain was increasing by the day, since I had been coping with it for a year, and was no longer coping.

Dr. No-Name said he would refer us to a colorectal specialist, but that all it would mean was that we would wait for several months to pay for a second opinion which would get us nowhere. Because there was nothing wrong with me.

Christian told him that we'd appreciate the opportunity to pay for a useless second opinion.

Manly stares ensued. And finally a medical sigh.

The very next morning, I received a phone call from Cabrini Hospital, asking me to attend an appointment with their leading colorectal specialist. They had received my files and test results that morning, and requested to see me as soon as possible. When I saw my GP later that day, attending an appointment for Phoebalina's immunisations, he mentioned that he had sent off my files. The look on his face when I said I was seeing the specialist the next day was priceless. Have you ever literally seen the colour drain from a person's face? I have. It's weird.

So anyhow, I met the lovely surgeon at Cabrini, he opened me up one week and one day after meeting me, and found, quite literally, an intestinal mess. After the surgery, he told Christian that he had separated 25 abdominal adhesions, but that there were many more he physically could not get at. He also discovered that the bowel resection I had at age 11 was more extensive than we had been led to believe. Apparently, I am quite challenged in the large intestine department, in that I am missing half of it. A little detail that could possibly explain the vagaries of my digestive system over the last 24 years.

And so it is that I missed the birth of my first niece. I won't tell you about that just yet, because I don't want to sully Asha's arrival story with tales of my drugged adventures in hospital. Needless to say, after having a team of surgeons ferreting around in my innards, I have felt a bit worse for wear over the last week (this time last week, I was literally coming out of theatre, with no idea what my name was. And no housework to do...)

Luckily for me, the painkillers are awesome, and my husband is even awesomer. I was in hospital from Friday until Wednesday, pretty much unable to move. Christian has taken care of everything, and my mum not only took care of our girls and me this week while Christian has been at work, but she spent all weekend with my sister in the labour ward. Christian's mum and dad took the kids for us last weekend, meaning that they hardly missed me at all. Without them all, I would never have coped. I literally haven't lifted a finger (probably a good thing, since the morphine possibly inhibited my decision-making skills somewhat...) I have worn pyjamas for a week, and have lost handfuls of weight since I can't eat much at all. People pay money to go on health farms to wear jarmies and get thin. Pfft to that, I say. Who needs a health farm when you can have painful, digestion-halting surgery? Best diet I've ever been on.

So that's where I've been. Forgive me? Now, before I toddle off for my evening cup of tea and handful of opiate-based pharmaceuticals, I promise you I'll tell you all about my beautiful baby niece Asha properly very soon. After all, it's a humdinger of a tale. I bet you've never heard of a woman in full labour take on an emergency department full of druggy bogans? No? Ha! Wait till you meet my sister!!!!