Begining of December 2000

I would have my very first surgery on Dec. 5, 2000. It was a routine bowel resection to remove the diseased area of bowel, my ileum. The surgery went well but I was not recovering as scheduled. While I was still in the hospital my surgeon said I should feel like running a mile. I wasn't even out of bed yet and they still sent me home. I tried to tell them how I was feeling, but they insisted that I'de improve once I got home. I was sent home December 10, 2000. At home I still wasn't doing any better than before. My diet consisted of cereal and an occasional bite of food. I still had the same pain in my abdomen. I still remember how hard it was for me to get in and out of bed. It was so painful. I would wake up in the middle of the night and need to pee, but I wouldn't get up to go to the bathroom because of how much pain it caused me.

Morning of December 15, 2000

On the morning of December 17, 2000 I awoke in a different world. The pain was worse than before. I could barely get out of bed and stumble back to the bathroom. I had my bottle of water that I keep with me and I drank down the entire 12oz. While I was in the bathroom I filled my bottle up with water about 4 more times and drank all of it. I knew I had to call my mom at work, but I had to get back to my room where the phone was. I tried to stand up and all I saw was black. I went as fast as I could and made it to my room. I called my mom and told her how I was feeling. She told me she was on her way home. While waiting in my room I got way too hot so I decided to try and make it to the living room. I held onto the walls as I made my way into the living room, and sat down on the recliner. I felt so hot. My entire body was soaking wet, and I was ice cold to touch. My mom arrived home about 5 minutes later(she only worked about 3 miles from where we live). By this time I couldn't even walk because the passing out feeling came to me as soon as I stood up. We called my doctors in Pittsburgh, and they told us to take me to the nearest ER. My mom pulled the van up in the yard right next to the front door. I HAD to make myself walk to the van. I stood up, and stayed bent over and I went as fast as I could. Now we were on our way to the nearest hospital.

Still December 15, 2000

We arrived at 8:30AM, and my mom went and got me a wheelchair. The ER staff took me right back to a room. They placed sheets on me, and wanted to start an IV. They did blood tests on me and discovered my white cell count was 10 times the normal, indicating that something was wrong. About 3 different people looked at my arms to see if there was any good veins for an IV. The nurse didn't see anything so she paged the anestheseologist to start an IV on me. The anestheseologist looked at my arms for about 10 seconds and said I didn't have anything good. Then he started looking at my legs. I said "I'm not having an IV in my LEG!!" He got disgusted, and threw my covers back on me and walked off. He must have gotten out of the wrong side of the bed or something!! If you've had an IV before you know that 10 seconds is NOT enough time to give your veins to "pop up" from the turnicate. My surgeon was called in Pittsburgh and he wanted me at the hospital where he was (same place I had my surgery). The ER was arranging to take me by ambulance. The ER doctor came back to my room and we told him how rude the anestheseologist was. The ER doctor said that I needed an IV, and he couldn't believe how the anestheseologist had acted. They paged the anestheseologist again. This time I think the ER doctor had a talk with him before he came to my room. It was decided that central line would be the best for me, and it was going to be placed in my neck. I had a central line before so I knew what to expect. It took them twice as long to get the needle in my artery. I was so dehydrated, and going into shock from whatever was wrong with me. Finally they got it in, and was able to give me my first dose of pain medication since I had been there at the ER at 3:30PM. The anestheseologist suggested to the doctor that they should send me by helicopter to Pittsburgh Pa at Allegheny General hospital(AGH). The nurses said that I blended right in with the white sheets on my bed.

December 15, 2000

I was life flighted back down to the hospital. Usually a car ride to AGH in Pittsburgh would take about 1 hour if there was no traffic. The ride in the helicopter only took 15 minutes. It was sooooooo loud. At AGH they had me drink a glass of contrast and did a cat scan on me. They discovered that I had fluid in my abdomen. My mom and uncle arrived a short time later. I was admitted and not allowed anything by mouth, but they did let me have one small glass of ice chips. I was having so much pain that they put me on a PCA (Patient Contolled Analgesic-lets you push a button to get pain meds when you need them). A nurse came in my room to give me a "boulus" or starting dose of demeral. She started injecting it and the last thing I remember is not being able to breath and going unconcious. I awoke about 2 minutes later with a horrible ringing in my ears. There were about 6 nurses at my bed all looking at me. They told me that I had some kind of reaction to the demeral, went unconscious and stopped breathing. One of the nurses was ready to call a code to start CPR on me. Thank God I came back on my own!!

December 19, 2000(at AGH)

The next day I was laying in bed with a heating pad on my belly. I was looking at my incision because it had started turning a weird reddish color. I thought maybe it was some drainage, or blood. All of a sudden fluid started gushing from my incision. I called the nurse and the surgeons were called immediatly to come and look at it. When they arrived they told me that the bowel resection had failed and came apart leaving bowel contents to spill into my body. They told me I needed emergency surgery. My surgeon started telling the nurses what to do in the meantime. He told them to get alot of padding and put me on it, and to start a suction hose to try and catch most of the drainage. I was taken back into surgery that night, Dec. 19,2000. The Surgeons cut me right on the incision and had to give me an ileostomy. The incision was 8 inches long and had to be left open to let the infection drain out. The only thing holding my abdomen together were a few large stiches in my abdominal muscles. I also had 2 drains placed next to my ileostomy.

December 20, 2000(at AGH)

For the next week I started developing a very bad infection and an abscess on my liver. Finally one day I started having a fever of 108* and I barley remember fading in and out. I was put on 6 different antibiotics- one of them being amfiteracin B (sp). It caused me to have alot of strange side effects and I would shake all night long and get very anxious. At one point the doctors were concerned that I wouldn't live. They told my mother that I was young and had a strong body to fight. For 2 weeks my cut wasn't healing. My surgeon started me on TPN (Total Parental Nutrition) because my nutritional status was very bad. I lived on Dilly bars from dairy queen for about 2 months before my FIRST surgery. I was laying in bed while the nurses we changing the dressing on my incision when all of a sudden I developed a fistula at the bottom of my incision. How weird it was!! All the healing that my incision had done was taken away when the fistula developed. I was sent back down stairs to have yet another drain placed! My mom told me about all the strange things I would say. A few days later I was getting up from a laying position to sit at the edge of my bed. The drain that was at the bottom of my incision just fell out! Of course I got blamed for pulling it out. I laid in bed for what seemed to be eternity and slowly got better. My mom would use a magazine to fan me when I was hot at night. She stayed right at the hospital with me for a week at a time. My room was blocked off so I didn't have a room mate. My mom was allowed to sleep in the other bed. I got alot better care because my mom was there to take care of me. I remember the endless walks up and down the hall, PICC lines and alot of tests. After 2 weeks I started finishing my antibiotics and one by one the empty bags came off of my IV rack not to be replaced with another full one. I had a hard time accepting the fact that I had an ileostomy. I couldn't even empty it. The day came that my surgeon said the magic words to me..

Please..don't stop reading now...