Once I got my pain managed, it was a little better, except the pain when I moved. There is no position that doesn't use your abdomen in some way.
The first nurse was really nice, she felt terrible when the first morphine pump didn't work right and gave me an awkward hug. I have a habit of not wanting to be a bother and was struggling with telling people what I needed. So for the first day, I drifted in and out of awareness. My doctor came in and talked about the surgery.
As soon as they started the robotic surgery it became obvious that I had more going on then my fibroids and cysts. I had pretty extensive endometriosis. My uterus had rebelled and was connecting with my intestine in a unholy way.
A bowel guy had to be called in so that they could detach it correctly.The doctor said it was like someone had poured a bunch of Elmer's glue between my uterus and bowels and let it dry up. They had to work a while to get it detached. When the bowel guy stopped in he told me that I'd made the uterus guy work pretty hard. He smiled when he said it like it was funny. Do doctor's have some weird competition going on? I don't know, I never watch "Grey's Anatomy".
All I knew was that my stomach hurt. And everyone wanted to look at it. It is amazing how quickly you lose all modesty in the hospital. Just about anyone could walk in my room and pull up my gown and all I would do is hold it out of the way so it wouldn't bug them.
By the end of the second day my pain was under some control and I'd gotten up and taken a short walk. I was on the baby floor, since that is where the uterus guy spent most of his time and it made it easier for rounds.
On the second day a nurse came in to check my blood sugar. It wasn't my usual nurse. My husband was there. She checked it and then as she was leaving told me congratulations. I looked at my husband.
"Does she think you had a baby?"
"Didn't she look at my chart?"
She did apologize when she came back. Honest mistake. Plus I'm not totally out of the realm, I am only 42 years old. I could have had a baby. I was more bugged by the young nurse that asked me about my son. She commented that they were about the same age. I told her he was 22. She said she was a few years older.
"I was a teenager when I had him." I felt compelled to share. My husband rolled his eyes at this. But I was for several more months after he was born even.
I spent the first twenty-four hours being asked if I'd passed gas. I have never in my life had so many people interested in me farting. But since I had bowel work done, this was a sign my body was working.
On the second day of recovery I was so sick of liquid diet I was tempted to lie about farting. I was starting to feel a rumble down there, but no air would escape. But I had been warned too many times that I shouldn't fake my farts. Finally, I was standing up to go to the bathroom with the nurse and it happened. A little toot escaped.
We smiled at each other. I could have real food!
The first real food didn't go well. I used the cover for unintended purposes. But after that it was better. Soon I had all the tubes and things out and started to feel like a human. Each meal after improved and I was able to keep it down.
I got to go home on Thursday and now it is Sunday. I am starting to feel like a real person almost. I am sleeping alot, a shower wears me out so much I need a nap. Things are moving the way they should and I have a big metal smile on my abdomen. I get the staples out tomorrow.
So I will spend the next five weeks recovering. I want to watch some movies and get a lot of rest. So I will write about some of those. Look out Netflix, here I come.