I was hoping this morning's appointment with the urologist was going to be it, the end.
Not quite.
I was at least able to present a more, well, sane front to the doctor this time around, no snivelling or crying or shrieking.
I asked the nurse as we were getting set up if she thought this chronic pain along the inside of my hip could be caused by this stent and before I'd even gotten to the end of my question, she was nodding and saying "Absolutely!"
I flash back to the urologist visiting me the day after the surgery in the hospital saying, "you really aren't going to like me. . . " and went on to explain what he'd had to do and that there was a stent in place for 6 weeks. A-ha. Of course, it's always interesting to meet someone who spent a few hours with your insides and undressed unconscious body the day before and you're just now shaking hands.
Now, what I'd envisioned as the stent was a piece of metal that would be round and tiny, kind of like a stent in the heart, which were only things I'd ever seen pictured.
Like this:
So after the anesthetic and the scope was set up (not comfortable but not terribly painful) he gets the grabber snaked through and is staring into the little eyepiece while the nurse controls the squeezy thing (very technical, I know) that will clamp onto the end of stent so he can pull it out, but he's having trouble getting it. He keeps saying, "and close.... no, open. . . . and close. . . no, open" and I'm expecting some little thing he is trying to get ahold of.
Suddenly, kind of like my very own version of an Alien moment, this thing that is a foot long comes popping out. Seriously.
He says, "And there's your stent!"
kind of like he'd just delivered a baby, and I'm still trying to act like the quietest, most calm version of myself that exists (and she only exists briefly in the very best of circumstances) to counteract his previous impression.
"Oh." I say. "That's much bigger than I was expecting."
(While inside I'm screaming, "Holy CRAP! what the heck was that?!?")
Letter C -- that's what that was (at least I got a BLUE one):
So it wasn't a little piece holding just the newly sliced open portion of the bladder to the newly rebuilt ureter like I'd imagined, it was snaking from the inside of the kidney, all the way through the ureter, all the way into the bladder (and right along the line of pain near that hip I've been suffering with), like this:
Not quite.
I was at least able to present a more, well, sane front to the doctor this time around, no snivelling or crying or shrieking.
I asked the nurse as we were getting set up if she thought this chronic pain along the inside of my hip could be caused by this stent and before I'd even gotten to the end of my question, she was nodding and saying "Absolutely!"
I flash back to the urologist visiting me the day after the surgery in the hospital saying, "you really aren't going to like me. . . " and went on to explain what he'd had to do and that there was a stent in place for 6 weeks. A-ha. Of course, it's always interesting to meet someone who spent a few hours with your insides and undressed unconscious body the day before and you're just now shaking hands.
Now, what I'd envisioned as the stent was a piece of metal that would be round and tiny, kind of like a stent in the heart, which were only things I'd ever seen pictured.
Like this:
So after the anesthetic and the scope was set up (not comfortable but not terribly painful) he gets the grabber snaked through and is staring into the little eyepiece while the nurse controls the squeezy thing (very technical, I know) that will clamp onto the end of stent so he can pull it out, but he's having trouble getting it. He keeps saying, "and close.... no, open. . . . and close. . . no, open" and I'm expecting some little thing he is trying to get ahold of.
Suddenly, kind of like my very own version of an Alien moment, this thing that is a foot long comes popping out. Seriously.
He says, "And there's your stent!"
kind of like he'd just delivered a baby, and I'm still trying to act like the quietest, most calm version of myself that exists (and she only exists briefly in the very best of circumstances) to counteract his previous impression.
"Oh." I say. "That's much bigger than I was expecting."
(While inside I'm screaming, "Holy CRAP! what the heck was that?!?")
Letter C -- that's what that was (at least I got a BLUE one):
So it wasn't a little piece holding just the newly sliced open portion of the bladder to the newly rebuilt ureter like I'd imagined, it was snaking from the inside of the kidney, all the way through the ureter, all the way into the bladder (and right along the line of pain near that hip I've been suffering with), like this:
After that he said he wanted to have me do a renal ultrasound in 6 weeks and come back to see him so he could be sure everything was completely healed from the surgery. So not the end, after all.
THEN, icing on the cake, GUESS WHAT!
I HAVE A RAGING URINARY TRACT INFECTION!!
Um, yeah. CALLED IT!
I kept thinking through these past weeks, I used to have a high pain tolerance; why is it six weeks later and I'm still feeling like I have to tough it out to get to the end of the day? Have I become a wimp?
Well, no. No, I haven't.
So now I'm on a strong antibiotic with orders to call again on Monday because they were sending out the results for a further culture to make sure this antibiotic will kill it.
I feel so vindicated.
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