One of my biggest fears before surgery had been the fear of having to have a regular incision. I preferred the thought of laproscopic surgery which would mean a shorter recovery time. Morbid obesity causes a condition that enlarges the liver. An enlarged liver can increase the chances of a traditional incision as it lays right over the stomach. To combat this, gastric bypass patients are placed on a pre-operative diet that resembles a "Slim Fast" diet. All refined sugar has to go. Drop two meals and substitute them with high protein drinks. One protein bar is also encouraged. Then one sensible meal is allowed. During our training session, we (weight loss surgery candidates) were given very specific guidelines as to how much protein everything should have as well as caloric intake. This meal plan is designed to shrink the liver and enable laproscopic weight loss surgery. It also helps jump start good habits to keep post-op. I tried to stick to these guidelines. I did pretty well, but I wasn't perfect. I was very good about my sugar intake, but I wasn't so great with my shakes. The night before surgery, my family took me out to an Italian restaurant (my favorite type of food), but I worried about the incision. I allowed myself one last over-the-top meal and hoped for the best.
So when I woke up in the recovery room at the hospital, I tried to talk. The nurse warned me that they had encountered trouble getting the tube to help me breathe during surgery so I shouldn't try to hard to talk yet. My first thought was, "Yay! I lived!" My next thought was, "What kind of incision was used?" When a nurse caught my eye, I moved my fingers like a pair of scissors. She laughed at me and said, "Don't worry. The doctor was able to perform the surgery laproscopically." I heaved a sigh of relief.
Now, I wondered how much pain I would be in. Still dopey from the surgery and comfortable, I wanted to see my family as soon as possible. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled up to my room for the next few days. My family was already there. Everyone commented on how good I looked. I was hooked up to an IV with fluids and a pain pump with morphine. I could push a button and administer the medication whenever I needed with an unknown-to-me limit for safety. My comfort level was decent so I visited with everyone for a while. The minute I complained of discomfort, everyone encouraged me to push the button on the pain pump before the pain got really bad. I did this throughout the day. Probably the most difficult part of the first day, though, was being unable to even drink anything. I could have nothing by mouth for a full 24 hours. At that time, I would have to have a scan done using a barium drink to see if my new pouch leaked at all. If it did, I would need to have more surgery. If not, I would begin drinking 2 ounces of fluid every hour. In the meantime, I was given flavored swabs to wipe in my mouth and suck to combat the dryness. By the end of the day, I was exhausted and nauseated. To avoid blood clots, I had to walk around the ward at least once that day. Twice was better. I am still fuzzy on some of the details of that day, but I think I walked twice. I had worked with a woman who had gastric bypass surgery and died from a blood clot. I knew I couldn't completely prevent it, but walking would help. The day was a blur of visitors and nurses and medication. The more nauseated I felt, the more I pushed the button for the morphine pump.
By the next morning, my nausea was out of control. The nurse gave me an anti-nausea medication via my IV, and I felt better very quickly. Fairly early that same morning, I was whisked down to radiology to check my pouch. I didn't have as much trouble as I anticipated drinking the barium. The surgery was a success, and there were no leaks. I was cleared to start drinking. To my horror, everything I drank made me sick. Of course, the choices were limited to water and protein drinks. But both were maddeningly painful to swallow. And now my stomach was really hurting - with nausea. The worse I felt, the more I pushed the pain pump button. By the evening, I was really miserable. The nurse gave me a short of anti-nausea medicine, but she pushed it into the IV without diluting it or slowing the push. The pain in my arm was excrutiating. The nausea also did not abate. I passed a painful, sick night.
In the morning, I got up and vomitted in the bathroom. The vomit was almost entirely blood. The doctor came to check on me with the intention of discharging me. He looked at me and asked how I felt. I burst into tears and told him about the vomitting. "I don't think you'll be going home today," he told me. Obviously smarter than me, he immediately took me off the pain pump and ordered normal pain meds for me. The difference was apparent within a couple of hours. Evidently, morphine can make you very sick. I rebounded very quickly once I stopped taking it. Everything still hurt my stomach, but at least the nausea improved. Before I knew it, it was time to go home. Panic struck again. I had not really been able to do the water or protein drinks and now time to go home. Would I be able to stand the pain without medical staff? Only time would tell.
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