While I've been indoors and on bed rest, Spring happened outside my window, and I've been too immobile to appreciate it. Not that I'm complaining -- getting moo-goo gai pan brought to you and getting to work propped up on pillows is very appreciated. But on the trip to the doctor today, colors kept jumping out at me. The white blooms on the trees are already starting to turn green -- I almost missed them!
The bright green leaves are popping out against the white trunks.
And the redbud trees are in full glory!
The two-week post-op appointment went very well. Mom and Dad came up to take me, while Bob Sr. and Nell drove to the airport to pick up Bob coming back from Baltimore.
I remembered the pillow as I started to strap in the seat belt. And what a difference a week and no catheter makes. I felt human being outside. Maybe in another week I can take short walks to see the last of the tulips and daffodils before they are gone.
On the way, riding beside the long train that paralleled our drive, my thoughts wandered to the consistent graffiti that adorns the lower sections of so many of the railcars. Was a memo put out that requires all graffiti to be two toned bubble letters? I want to look out the window one day and see a replica of Starry Night filling up the space. Then I'll be impressed.
As we approached the hospital, I wondered, why are all hospital buildings so utilitarian and institutional? Wouldn't some grand, even whimsical, architecture lift the spirits of people who had to visit there, and those who have to work there among the stress and difficulties of the ill?
When I got called back to the room, I weighed about a pound less (hmm, the exact weight of the removed organ...) so at least the swelling is being evened out by eating less. I made myself giggle at the careful way I folded my underwear inside my yoga pants to hide them. Hello? I'm getting on a table naked from the waist down with nothing but a paper sheet and I'm worried about her seeing my giant incision-avoiding purple granny panties? How odd.
At the appointment, Dr. Watt went over all the results of the pathology again and the complications. She made me laugh when she read the part about the section of the ureter, "'Ureter was unremarkable.' Um, except that it was OUTSIDE your body."
She told me, "No one in the office could believe where that ureter ended up!" I laughed and said, "Well, at least I was memorable!" She nodded rather vehemently and said, "Oh, you are soooo memorable." I am going to take that in a good way.
She checked out the incision, said it looked great, and asked if I wanted her to take the steri-strips off. I told her I would keep them a year if that's how long they took to come off on their own. Every time I look at them I am reminded of watching that C-section incision pop open when the nurse pulled the first one off, poo-pooed my concerns, and I ended up with a pus filled infected wound that made me want to kill myself. Dr. Watt was fine with leaving them alone. I knew I liked her.
I asked her if we could run my blood numbers to see how the ramped up protein and iron supplements were doing. I laughed when she popped back into my room after we'd already said our goodbyes to tell me, "By the way, this blood test will be hemoglobin numbers. Those are 1/3 of the hematacrit numbers I've been giving you."
I smiled and said, "So when the tech tells me '10' I shouldn't faint or go check myself into the hospital next door?"
She laughed. "Right."
"So this is a blood versus crit thing, huh?"
She got my joke. I told you I liked her.
The tech did a finger prick on my right hand after I exposed my left-handedness, and in a minute I got my number: 12. Multiply times 3 and that's a 36! (See? I can do math.) So in two weeks I've gone from a 26 to a 36 and I'm only 5 away from my pre-surgery numbers. Yay! I wish I wasn't still so tired and swollen, but this gives me hope that things are getting better and better inside.
Of course, tonight I'm wiped and was very slow at work this afternoon. The belly is hurting a bit more due to all the extra activity, but I'm miles ahead of how awful I felt last Friday after the urologist visit. Baby steps: I'm aiming for a little bit better every day from here on out.
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