hannie’s spot. all hannie.

with a little more feeling now April 9, 2010

Yesterday I got to see the same surgeon who saved my life, literally, after Katrina. I had three sections of trapped bowel and tons of hernias that had destroyed my abdominal wall. This was the first placement of a mesh wall to cover this, and it took about ten hours, but that surgeon believed in me as I had to believe in him.

Anyways, I tell him that I’ve already been given a diagnosis of “inoperable” by one of the best surgeons ever. Ever. So he asks me after giving me the rundown on how good the first surgeon I spoke with was (which I already knew, thanks) why I was there. I don’t know, honestly. I handed the yellow sheet of paper stating I was “inoperable” to my regular doctor and he said I needed to see a bariatric surgeon. I knew you were the guy to see, we’re talking about “continuity of care” and I knew that you, if anyone, would know my case and would know how best to run with it. We chit-chat over a million things, I hand him my last ct scan on disk that clearly shows the disintegration of my current abdominal wall and he can’t read it from his computers. So he leaves the room.

So he comes back and he tells me that they send cases like me to the same doctor I’ve already seen who’s told me I’m inoperable. Great. Well yea, you’ve been told you’re inoperable by this guy, you’re sent here and the only thing we can really do is tell you the same exact thing. I hear the apologies one more time. I appreciate it, I do, but I am more angry than anything else because I’ve wasted his time, I’ve wasted my time. Other people who could have an improved quality of life could have used that time. We know I’m not at “improving” anymore. We know that I’m at “maintaining and surviving”. Here’s what I was told in a nutshell.

1. More sleep. I need more sleep to properly rest my body and this doctor knows I am not getting that. I didn’t get it in a hospital or at home under his care before, he knows I’m not getting it now and he knows that I won’t lie to him on this. More sleep. At least 8 hours a night and if I don’t get that 8 hours, then I’d best make time to get a full 8 hours.

2. More and better eating. He knows that before, I was super picky on what I was and was not going to eat. He knows that because I am doing so much on any given day, I don’t make time to eat. Yes Johanna, you are MAKING time to eat and you are doing it correctly right now. Great, you’ve seen a dietician who can concur with that, but make it happen right now. I may gain a couple pounds in doing just this, but who cares anymore. Eat correctly, don’t short-change yourself and do it now. I thought he was a bit cavalier on the “vitamins and nutrients” issue as he didn’t glance a single lab that showed I was bottoming out, but oh well. I wonder if he’s going to crap if he looks this morning and sees the same thing I did, that although my ferretin looks great my red blood cells are still coming up severely uneven in size. Shit, who cares? (I don’t usually use profanity, but I will here.)

3. Exercise lots. Yea, great, I am in a constant state of pain and we’re still working on getting past that as the pain doctor blew me off. The pain doctor told me I was too young for any sort of aggressive pain therapy (narcotic based). She never saw either the ten surgeries I’ve survived or the actual area of pain and why it was present. I’m simply too young for all this. I want to start swimming again, but I’m not cleared to touch a pool until the physical therapist sees me again. I still have severe neuropathy from my left hip down to my left foot. Walking is sorta out right now, much as I’d even like to do that.

One family member will tell me “you know, you survived so much already, you can’t let this crap hold you back.” Yet another says, “well, in the past few months you’ve been handed a death sentence how many times?” I don’t know. I think I’m going with option A. I’m not letting any of this hold me back. I have all sorts of other medical issues which just compound what I’ve described above. Bah. My god is bigger than your storm and somehow, it’s just gotten ferocious Katrina style. I survived that. I can survive freakin anything if you count my odds.