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A quick recap of the events of this week: Sunday, Easter with Danielle, Shanan, Amelia and Tracey.  Monday, final checkout with doc and garden hose removal.  Tuesday, raping by airline to fly home. Wednesday and today, work from home days.  Now you’re all caught up. 

I know some of you are nosy so here are the gory details.  Easter was great, a beautiful spring day in Denver and Tracey and I went to City Park to enjoy a little outdoors.  We then went to Aurora to see Danielle, Shanan and Amelia by way of a very sketchy liquor store.  It was great that I got to see them once more before heading home. 

Monday started bright and early with labs at 8am followed by the hose removal ceremony.  This ended up being one of the easiest things I had to do at Porter and didn’t even have to put on the ceremonial gown before lying on the table of sacrifice.  They shot some glowy liquid (but it only glows when we put radiation on it – thanks, that makes me feel so much better) in through the tube to check to make sure I was watertight.  Fortunately for me, I wasn’t leaking anywhere so they decided to pull the tube and make me completely organic again.  Once out, they covered up the hole with gauze and another one of these pieces of adhesive saran wrap that becomes part of your skin – great for sealing an open wound but removing it takes the top two layer of skin with it.  Not a good trade-off in my mind.  One thing the doc said stuck in my head when referring to the bandage: “You might see it get soiled.  This is normal since we punched a hole in the main drain.  Keep an eye on it and make sure it doesn’t get too nasty.”  He wasn’t real clear on what “too nasty” looks like but thankfully it looks like the bandage is still very white and clean looking.  I just have nightmares of taking it off and, well, you can guess the rest. 

I also met with the nephro as well on Monday because why pass up an opportunity to stick it to my insurance one more time?  He gave me a clean slate to muck up infinitely and sent me on my way.  

My flight home was uneventful once I got past the raping at check-in.  I know that my bag was overweight but I was already carrying over 40 lbs on my shoulders and short of a bag like Hermione’s, I couldn’t possibly stuff a tissue in there.  I even busted out the “I just had a transplant and am carrying far more weight then I’m supposed to” line and got nothing.  So my bag got to fly for about half the cost of my flight.  And this is where I call shenanigans.  I could have repacked part of my bag in a box and checked two things for $60.  This, of course, would have entailed me tearing open my suitcase in front of the entire airport and putting some things in a container of dubious tensile strength.  Not very appealing.  I seriously thought I was talking to knights demanding a shrubbery.  Moral of the story?  Be wary of any muggle-born carrying small bags or an extraordinary tall knight wearing a funny hat.

Back home, things are about the way they were before I left.  My boys are very glad to see me and won’t leave me alone.  The house is still standing and I’m settling back in.  I’m back to work as of yesterday but working from home until Monday when I will let my shining light breathe life back into the office.  Actually, it might be a little clouded since it is a Monday morning but I’ll be there on best behavior anyway. 

So that’s my story.  Unless something major comes along, this is the end of the transplant updates.  Thanks for checking in and making it easy for me to disperse information.  Keep checking periodically for updates but be wary – I can be random.  I know this comes as a surprise to some but yea, really really random.  So read at your own risk.  Of losing intelligence.

Hospital S&M

I’m sure you all are waiting breathlessly for details on how today went.  Far be it for me to make you pass out waiting, yea?  For those who like things summarized, the stent is out and I have a nice size piece of piping sticking out of my stomach which needs to be removed on Monday.  You have your update.  Now go before your eyes pop out of your head and your ADHD drugs stop working.

For those who appreciate flowery prose and want to know details on what transpired today, I can promise only one of those – I leave it to you to determine which one.

I had to be at the hospital at 8am for lab work which generally consists of sticking a needle in an arm, rotating it 360 degrees until I am squirming and then sucking 5 vials of blood out of me.  Not exactly a leisurely beginning to a day, no?  I’ve become immune to it by now (having to do it at least twice a week since I’ve been here) and at least they’ve stopped saying to me, “You know that your red blood count is low?”  I always had to laugh at the irony of telling me that my blood count is low after extracting amounts from my arm.  But I digress.

After labs I went down to radiology where I was told yet again to strip and put on a gown.  Seriously?  I’m starting to think that folks working in hospitals have a strange fetish.  Properly prepared for the upcoming festivities, I was then asked why I was there.  True, it’s a bit strange to be asked this but apparently this is normal procedure to ensure that I, the patient, know what I’m getting myself into.  Unfortunately, this time the nurse was honestly asking me because they were just as much in the dark as to what needed to be accomplished.  I could have told them to make me look like Abraham Lincoln and gotten a facelift out of it.  Her admission to me didn’t inspire confidence and I quickly checked out possible escape routes lest they start hacking off perfectly good body parts.  Apparently what happened to me is so rare that no one at the hospital had ever seen it happen before.  Again, not confidence inspiring. 

Confusion reigned for a bit until a doctor came over to set things straight.  He described his job as a “removal specialist” and his team removed all kinds of things from inside the human body.  He didn’t go into detail and I honestly didn’t want to know specifics.  He outlined what he thought would happen but unfortunately there were a lot of unknowns including, but not limited to, bleeding out, the stent breaking again and/or inability to get to the stent in the first place.  Fantastic.  This is going to be fun.

With the general plan of not letting me die on the table in place, off we went to another room full of exceptionally expensive looking machines.  The idea was to use an ultrasound and x-ray to find where to stick me, stick me with a sizeable needle, extract the offending plastic and call it a day.  Put like that, I was starting to feel better.  Or maybe it was the drugs.  Either way, I resigned myself to the idea that it was out of my hands and let’s just get on with it.  They covered me up from head to toe with a tarp and set to work.

I didn’t get a general anesthetic but they did numb the area where the needle would be traversing my epidermis meaning I got the full experience.  After consulting the magical machines that saw my insides, they decided on a good place to poke and went for it.  The doctor, who must moonlight at a local S&M club, decided it would be a good idea to show me the sheath that would be going in and providing access to my insides.  My only frame of reference is a coffee stirrer.  Oh boy.  Thankfully the guy knew what he was doing because he hit the right spot on the first try.  Next up came another wire that apparently was only used to make me believe I needed to use the bathroom BAD.  It had something to do with my bladder and “finding purchase” but to be honest, I was actually more interested in the big 60 inch screen that showed the x-ray version of my abdomen.  It was scary and incredible at the same time, watching these things move around inside me.  More importantly, it offered a distraction to the decidedly uncomfortable feelings emanating from inside me.  Finally came the extracting wire which was essentially a tiny lasso they used to snag the end of the stent.  I watched on the screen as they went in and out, trying wrap up the stent until finally – success!  Before I could say “yeehaw this is fun”, bang, it was outside me and in the doc’s hand.  I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when he whipped out a 15 inch length of plastic tubing and said, “We’ll put this in to make sure there’s no complications and so that we have a way to get back in if we have to.  It can come out in a 5-6 days.”  Without waiting for my OK (which was implied apparently), I watched in morbid fascination as all but 3-4 inches was summarily shoved inside me. 

So that’s about it.  I got one tube taken out and another put in.  As I mentioned, they claim it is to make sure I have to come back for more wallet-burning work am safe from any leakage which is better than the alternative I guess.  I get to go back in on Monday to get it ripped out.  After all that transpired, I am left with a piece of tubing the size of 10 gauge wire sticking out of my stomach an inch to the right of my belly button and one hell of a sting from where I was stuck.  Life could be worse.

Obviously this changes my plans a little and now I anticipate making my glorious return to Florida on the 10^th.  Let’s see if I can actually get that to work this time.

As always, thanks for your support.  Now back to your regularly scheduled life.

Stents, Tense and Tents

Good day all my faithful followers.  I know that I’ve been quiet lately but in reality, not much has been going on.  The twice a week visits to my parole officers transplant team have been nothing but positive, so that’s a plus.  I have also gotten out and about in Aurora (where my cousin Danielle lives and where I’ve been staying mostly) with the help of Tracey’s car.  Last week I stumbled upon the Wings Over the Rockies air museum and spent an afternoon wandering around one of my boyhood dreams, military aircraft.  I got the distinct impression that security was not impressed with my precise recitation of Top Gun lines from the cockpit of the F-14 on static display.  Some people have no appreciation of the dramatic arts…

The last two weekends have been spent at Aunt Barbara and Uncle Skip’s place in Colorado Springs.  This past weekend we went up Pikes Peak on the cog railway, a spectacular trip I would highly recommend to anyone.  A word of warning – even though you might be sweating as you get on, you will appreciate the jeans and jacket you have because, for example, even though it was a chilling 79 degrees at the bottom, actual temp at the peak (14110 feet) was 33 with a 19 mph wind chill making it significantly colder.  So yea, a bit of a temperature swing.  The rides up and down are a bit fun with steep drops of 2000 feet or more on either side of the train while traversing up to a 27% grade.  To give you a reference point, the famed Lombard Street in San Francisco is only a 14% grade. 

Of course I had to be treated to Colorado weather while I’m here.  What is Colorado weather you ask?  Sunday, when we drove out to ride the railway, it was 79 degrees and I think it topped 80 that day.  Not bad for a Florida boy.  The very next day, Monday, it never rose above 50 and that night it snowed and kept doing so all of Tuesday.  Yet today, Wednesday, all the snow is gone and the temps are well into the 60’s.  Tomorrow it’s supposed to be back into the 70’s.  I know that Florida has its fair share of weird weather but I don’t think you can quite go from shorts, tshirt and flipflops to jeans, snow coat and insulated boots overnight.  Not that I’m complaining – I know back home it’s been AC-on weather for weeks by now. 

But enough about what I’m doing while not working.  I’m sure all of you are dying to know how Tracey and I are doing.  Well, maybe dying is an inappropriate adjective.  Anxious.  We’ll use that.  Tracey is up and around pretty well and at this point is planning on being back at work next Wednesday.  She still has her moments and both of us still need to take it a bit easy but life is returning to normal day by day. 

And then there’s me.  The 6 inch gash in my side is almost healed but as a genius once said, ‘tis but a flesh wound.  The insides are a little different.  On paper, I’m a fully healthy kid (only one part of that was true) and my blood work thus far has been stellar.  I’ve been a perfect patient for the doctors with no surprises.  Well…. That’s not entirely true.  I decided I was tired of being perfect and decided to throw a monkey into the wrench yesterday.  That’s not true – all I did was lie there.

Let me set this up a little first.  During the surgery, faceless people put a plastic tube inside me called a stent.  This is designed so that despite my best efforts, I cannot possibly twist the new tubing inside that hooks everything up and lets it flow properly.  Think of a thin piece of PVC inside a garden hose that prevents kinking and you get the idea.  Google at your own risk.  I don’t even notice it while it’s in but from what I’m told, it needs to come out.  One thing to note about this is that it apparently curls (like little piggy tails) on both ends to hold it in place and also might be held in other ways.  (this is what is called foreshadowing)

So, now that you know almost nothing about double pig-tail ureteral stents, I can get on with my story.  Yesterday was my big day to have this insidious piece of plastic removed.  One thing to note is how these things get installed and subsequently removed.  As you can imagine, it’s not something I swallowed.  Thankfully it was installed while I was under the influence of something and talking to a double headed purple platypus.  I would not be so lucky, however, for the removal.  I won’t go into specifics about the device used (called a cystoscope) but suffice it to say the entire procedure is decidedly uncomfortable.  Let’s just say it’s very unnatural to be going against the flow of traffic, yea?

OK, so I get myself once again into a fashionable gown and steel myself for what is about to occur.  Various people come into the room bringing random pieces of equipment and others pepper me with the same $%^&ing questions I’ve answered 50 times already.  You know, they write this stuff down each time I tell them, no, I don’t have an allergy to latex or iodine – is it so hard to pull my chart?  Next time they ask me, I think my response will be, “no, but I do tend to have a bad reaction to being asked the same question over and over”.  Most likely I would end up leaving feeling like a pin cushion but my point would be made on deaf ears.

Once everyone was in the room, the fun began.  I end up flashing the goods to world+dog (remember what I said about dignity and hospitals not being good bed fellows) and the doc gave me a squirt of numbing gel.  “You’ll appreciate this in a minute,” he said ominously.  He proceeded to uncurl what can only be described as a cross between a mid-evil torture device and something from Aliens.  Without another word, in he went.  After rooting around looking for the stent or a pot of gold or Elvis, he stated, “I need the other one” and ripped his torture device out like he’s ripstarting a lawnmower.  Much confusion transpired as the nurses attempted to translate the language of doctor (and you thought their handwriting was bad) but finally the “other one” arrived.  Sinister black, this device did not inspire calm and rational thought.  Again, a little squirt of gel and in it goes.  The hunt began in earnest and I swore that he got bonus money for how many times I squirmed as he literally scraped my insides.  Oh, forgot to mention this was a two person job – the doc and a nurse to hold the scissor-type wire thing.  That got fed into the cystoscope and as they closed in on the stent, it got opened and closed as they tried to grab the offending plastic tube.  Much teeth gnashing on my part later, eureka, they had it.  Then, like fishermen, they yanked the wire out (and with it, the stent) much to my surprise.  Magically, the fruit of their labor appeared and the doctor said something that will stick with me for some time: “Huh, looks like it broke.  How long is it supposed to be?”  Aren’t you supposed to know buddy?  Much confusion ensued as people scrambled to find out what the stent was supposed to look like.  The doctor looked at me and said just what I wanted to hear, “I’ve got to go back in and check your bladder.”  So in it went for the third time and found nothing. 

In the interests of keeping this post below Shakespearean lengths, let me skip to the end.  After consulting with people who know about these things, it was decided they would leave the other half in for the time being.  Doc told me that they wouldn’t be able to get to the stuck piece with the cystoscope but rather would have to stick me in the stomach with a needle the size of Texas and get the piece “from the top”.  The jury is still out on which method is better for me (read: less painful).  As of right now, the uncomfortable acupuncture is scheduled for tomorrow at 9am so any chants, dances or other religious psalms sung in my favor would be appreciated. 

After all that, I am hoping/expecting/anticipating being home in Florida no later than Monday, 4/9.  That’s the plan as of right now but as I’ve noticed, life doesn’t really seem to care if you have a plan.  Here’s to hoping…

p.s. - yep, that's an x-ray of what the stent looks like... no, it's not me...