My Orbital Decompression Journey: Week One

Well it's been six days exactly since my bilateral orbital decompression. I thought I would be able to post an update much sooner, but it has been the most physically difficult week of my life.

Day One:

The morning in pre-op was uneventful, for the most part. I did learn that they have been using the same manilla folder for my medical records that they have used since October 7, 1984 because I was originally called Baby Girl P. I was ravenous and thirsty by the time I got into my pretty little hospital gown and socks, but the anxiety and anticipation soon took over. Both of my surgeons came in, the ENT surgeon (Dr. S) giving us a little heart attack when he asked if I brought my disc. "Disc?" my dad and I both asked as we looked at each other. "Yeah, of the CT you had done up in North Adams...?" Ummm, North Adams is like an hour from here and I wouldn't go there unless my life depended on it. He quickly realized he was thinking of another patient, but that made both my dad and me very nervous that he had mistaken his patient in the first 3 seconds of seeing me. Eventually I got some Zofran (anti-nausea) and saline via my IV, and they said I would start to feel dizzy. I didn't until it came time for Dad to say goodbye and me to put on my sexy hairnet. Then I got dizzy, but I still remember giving the anesthesiologist and nurses a hard time as I fell asleep. Only me...

Surgery was supposed to take 90-120 minutes. It took three full hours. Apparently having a skinny nose (my nose's only redeeming quality) is not a good thing when you're having endonasal surgery. When I woke up, the pain was instantly apparent. I remember asking for Dad right away, but they said I needed to fully wake up first. I don't think that happened until today. Anyway, he came in a short while later. My right eye was patched so I could only open my left eye, and only barely. Everything was blurry and the light was really bothering me, so I kept it closed except when the nurses were like, "If you want to go home, you have to pee and if you want to pee, you have to open that eye." I dropped my pants without any further prompting and peed like a good patient, and thought that meant we could leave now. Nope...

They left me in the wheelchair next to the bed while the nurse got all the final discharge instructions, removed my IV, iced my eye, told my dad how to keep my alive, yammering on and on and on. There is no head or neck support on these wheelchairs, and every time I started to fall asleep, my head would suddenly roll forward or backward and blood would begin to gush out of my nose, prompting the (probably nice, but presently on my shit list) nurse to scold me and tell me to sit upright. I was so exhausted, at one point, Dad put his hand behind my head so I could doze off. Then she made him go get my prescriptions and the car, and I'm pretty sure I gave her an attitude the whole time. The pain medicine - Fentanyl - made me break out in a rash, but I told them Percocet makes me itchy too. I think they gave me some Benadryl but I'm not sure. I was extremely nauseated and it took a while to convince them I needed apple juice. They let me have about one-and-a-half sips before I started gagging and threatening to vomit.

The ride home was miserable. Springfield has some of the worst roads and highways, and I felt every little bump. I don't remember what time we got home but I do remember being very hungry. A team effort by my dad and brother resulted in a small bowl of soup that I took three sips of then decided I was full. I fell asleep shortly after, only to wake up in the middle of the night and puke it all up. I didn't even make it to the toilet. Fortunately, that would be the only time I projectile-vomited across the entire bathroom (floor, door, sink, scale...everywhere). A few minutes later, this time armed with a bowl, I puked up the four glasses or so of water I had drunk. After that, my dad decided I had to sleep with my door open so he could hear me if I got sick again. By this point, that was probably a good decision since I was too tired to move and probably would've choked on it. But alas, I didn't get sick again.

Attempting to smile.

Nor did I eat much. Wednesday morning, I had two mini muffins from the batch I made during my starvation exercises the previous morning. I couldn't taste them, and my face was (and still is) numb between my eyes and upper lips/teeth, so I couldn't really feel where or what I was biting. I have bitten my lip several times. The nausea promptly returned, fueled by the anesthesia and narcotics. I had two missed called from my eye surgeon (Dr. C) who is an orthodox Jew, and since it was Yom Kippur, he was probably risking it by calling me during the holy day. He is such a nice guy.

Wendesday was a blur. My dad would come in every hour or so to give me a different pills or eye ointment. He called both surgeons at one point because I was refusing to eat because of the nausea, but I needed to eat or else the painkillers would make it worse, and Lord did I need those painkillers. Someone at Dr. S's office told my dad the only thing that would help was ginger ale. My dad told her I have had soda probably five times in my life, and every time, it has made me sick, so he would not give me something I don't want/like that was going to make me sick. I think a small yelling match ensued. In the end, time was the only thing that would help my appetite return.

Thursday at lunchtime (for normal people who eat and don't take painkillers and sleep 23 hours a day), we went to see Dr. C for my post-op appointment. I was miserable. I was crying, irritable, and nauseated from the car ride. They took the patch off, and that's when I realized the pain on that eye was from the stitches - my eye was stitched shut! Apparently they normally stitch both eyes shut but they thought this would be too traumatic for me since I was so scared of waking up blind. Removing the stitches was so painful and I think half of his staff was in there trying to soothe me. But once they were out, it felt immediately better. They let me sit in the dark for a while so my eye could adjust to light for the first time in 48 hours. Even my left eye would only open for a few seconds at a time and both eyes could only look straight ahead, but we quickly realized that I had no double vision. I beat the 50/50 odds and retained my single vision, thank the heavens. Dr. C was so happy he said, "If it was appropriate, I would kiss you right now." I love him. Dad and Dr. C agreed that you could see an immediate diffidence in my eyes. They held up my pre-op photo to my face and like a 7-year-old I said, "I wanna see!" so he got a mirror and took a new photo of me. I lied and said I could see the difference but in all honestly, I could look at the photos long enough to see anything, and I couldn't see past all the blood and busing and swelling. I kept thinking I was going to be sick, so I was happy to just go home and go back to bed.

Days Four, Five and Six:
Completely uneventful. I was glad not to have to miss any Gator Football on Saturday (it was our bye week), because there was no way I could deal with the sounds of the TV, let alone the screen. I did listen to an audiobook, "Can You Keep a Secret?" by Sophie Kinsella, over the weekend. I purposely picked it because her books are so stupid and light that I knew it wouldn't be hard to follow along even if I passed out for a few chapters. Saturday evening, when I realized I was about the take the last of my Percocet, my dad called Dr. C. He came into my room a little while later and said, "I am just the messenger..." and I knew exactly what was coming. Dr. C said no refills. I needed to wean myself off the narcotics and switch to Motrin and Aleeve. Well, Dr. C didn't know that I still have Percocet left from my tailbone fracture, so I've been taking one every six hours instead of two every four hours, and I am also taking over-the-counter NSAIDs to help with the inflammation.

Today I turned a corner. I got myself up at 6:30 to have some breakfast. Actually, that wasn't all that hard because I didn't sleep a wink last night, just tossed and turned. I finally dozed after breakfast and actually took a shower (well OK, I sat in the tub and "showered") and threw all my scrubby clothes in the wash. I was actually dressed with blow-dryed hair when my dad got home to take me to see Dr. S. After waiting almost an hour, he finally came in, numbed my nose, and used the equivalent of a power washer on both of my nostrils to clean out all the dried blood and mucus. It hurt like a b*tch but also felt a lot better afterward. I expected a lot more relief, but it turns out most of my discomfort around my nose and eyes is actually the inflammation and numbness, and combined those two feelings are so uncomfortable. He forced me to look in all directions, and I hated him for it. Looking left especially hurts, and I was just pleased with the progress of being able to keep my eyes open for any period of time. He will see me back in one week to clean out my nose again, but I was given permission to blow my nose, use the NetiPot twice a daily and Afrin twice a day. I got a few clots out with the NetiPot and now my nose is just a leaky faucet (of boogers, don't worry, no blood), but at least I can (gently) blow it now.

I sat outside for an hour eating my lunch and just dozing, then came inside and napped for almost four hours. I talked to my boss, who was also out all last week but for her son-in-law's wedding and now she is out with a cold. She asked that I let her know when I'm ready for a visitor, and I told her there is no way I am coming back to work tomorrow as originally planned. In fact, I won't attempt to go back all week, and Monday is a holiday, so maaaaybe next week, but it's way too soon to tell. I see Dr. C on Thursday to remove the eyelid stitches and hopefully plan out a more definitive timeline.

I am still not ready to check Facebook or emails, so if you want to reach me, calling is the best way. My phone is on silent whenever I'm sleeping, but at least now I can see my screen to see who has called, so don't think you're bothering me. My mom sent up some very pretty flowers since she wasn't able to come up at all given her own health issues, and they are in desperate need of watering. I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than a glass of water, so it's up to the men in my house to constantly refill my humidifier, empty my ever-overflowing trash, and water the flowers. Thus, the poor flowers have taken a backseat.

Keep in mind my eyelids are stitched and my lids will come down a little once the stitches and removed and as the swelling comes down, but I will still probably need an additional surgery to lower my upper eyelids and remove the excess fat that Graves deposited below my eyebrows. Baby steps...