When I was a small child, I visited a castle every day. At 11:00am, a large black boot would come into view, and a man’s voice would beckon: look up look waaaaay up! A drawbridge would come down, and then, for the next fifteen minutes, I would be transported into a world with Jerome the Giraffe, Rooster and of course, the Friendly Giant. He would even put out a chair just for me; I remember feeling special.
I would be lying if I didn’t say that I wished I could as easily visit such castles now that I am an adult. This week has been difficult.
I need to write an update.
I don’t know how to write an update.
I should start with the good news, right? That’s always a socially appropriate way to do things. The good news is that I am no longer using my nephrostomy tube. Yes, I am once again peeing the good ol’ fashioned way. I love it, even the getting-up-four-times-a-night deal.
Other good news is that I am home again. I am once more sitting on our stinky sofa, looking at the mess of toys strewn about the livingroom floor, and drinking decaf tea that my son (lovingly) blew on (mostly spat into) to cool down for me. These things have a much needed and welcomed familiarity to them.
The not as good news: the surgery was difficult. I need to repeat that for emphasis: the surgery was really difficult. The first three hours were spent laparoscopically “removing” the lymphocele. At the three hour mark, it was decided that the remainder of the lymphocele (behind and below the transplanted kidney) was too risky to pursue, via such methods and thus the surgical team created an incision instead. The next three hours were spent “removing” the lymphocele in that manner.
After these six hours, I was sent to recovery. It was there that my blood pressure began to drop and the surgical site drainage bag fill a little too quickly with blood. I had what is medically known as a “bleed” (internal bleeding at the site of the incision). It was just after midnight when I was once again in the OR, this time to suture the bleed.
I got through.
I spent the next day and a half in recovery, and then was sent to the ward.
There, I happily slept off the anesthetic for most of the next day, unconcerned by the beeps and interruptions of usual hospital life. Anesthetic sleep is the honeymoon of the hospital stay; sleep comes easily and castles can be readily accessed.