|
Please read the
View Guestbook |
|||
Thom's Story
|
|
|
|
I have a temporary colostomy. I've had it for two months. This is my story.
On August 29th, I flew to Raleigh, NC to
visit my brother for the Labor Day Weekend. While getting ready to leave
for the airport, I experienced sharp pains in my right side that quickly
went away. I made my flight and generally felt like crap for the
entire flight. My brother picked me up at the airport and remarked
that I looked like "sh**". I said, "Thanks Man, good to see you too, a**hole!"
We arrived at his house and I went straight
to bed feeling like death on a cracker. The sharp pains returned
and I wrote them off as trapped gas pains. I had a Nissen Fundoplication
in April of 2003 to repair my faulty LES. Since that surgery, I had experienced
pains that would come and go. My Doc called them trapped gas pains.
I flopped around in bed like a dying fish and the day turned into night.
I finally took some Demerol and crawled back into bed.
At 2am on August 30th, the pain became severe
and I stumbled into the main hallway to locate some help. I suspected that
my appendix had burst. I clearly needed to go to the ER and fast.
I located my parents
My father who is the most law abiding man
in the world and also not real good in a crisis, decided that we would
drive. Remember, it's after 2am in the morning and there is no traffic
on the roads and no cops. My Dad stopped at every fu**ing stop light
and went the posted speed the entire 18 mile drive to the Hospital.
Meanwhile, I'm in the passenger seat, screaming bloody murder and quite
sure that I was dying. Still he poked on down the road. Unfu**ing
believable.
We finally arrived at WakeMed Medical Center
in Cary. The ER staff rushed me in and immediately started to work
on me. They wanted me to drink a barium milkshake and get a CT scan.
I refused. I knew that if my appendix had indeed burst, the last
thing I need was more goo leaking into my abdomen. A doctor with
severe bed head showed up. This was Dr. Canaly and he was my new
best friend. He rushed me into the OR and I faded away wondering
if I had on clean undies..
At 6am on August 31st, I woke up in a hospital
room and hurt like a mo-fo. I asked a very pretty nurse for some pain meds
and was given vicodin which did the trick. Later on, Dr. Canaly came
in and informed
I was released four days later and returned
to my brother's house to eal. All I remember was fading in an out on pain
meds while my brother and his girlfriend would come and go to work. I would
get up
On Saturday, September 6th, I flew back to
Nashville, TN. While waiting for my flight in Raleigh, the ticket agent
gave me a pass to get on the plane early because I looked so fu**ing bad.
I boarded the plane, ate four vicodin and drank three rum and cokes.
Still, I felt pretty damn bad.
My wife picked me up in Nashville and we
returned to our home. More pain meds and sleepy days came and went.
I returned to work a week later and was pretty
damn useless. I was very lethargic and still in pain. I am a Network
Administrator and that's not a good job to have when your fu**ed up on
codeine. After three
My doctor sent me in for an X-Ray and they
found a HUGE pocket of "free air" in my chest cavity. This was the
source of my pain. At first they thought that it was left over gas
from my appendectomy but then ruled that out. The question was. "Where
is the air coming from?" My pain became unbearable and they shot me full
of morphine and sent me down for a CT scan with contrast. The results showed
nothing. A team from the Trauma OR came up and took over my case.
They decided that they would keep me on a morphine pump and observe me
for five days. They also made me NPO which means no food no water.
My very own circle of Hell on Earth was just beginning.
Vanderbilt University Hospital is a HUGE
facility it spans many square blocks and is a city unto itself. Still,
on that ill-fated day, they did not have a room for me. They were
at full capacity. After many
The Trauma Nurses, or "Trauma Mommas" as
I dubbed them were just incredible. They found me a spot and hooked
up my morphine pump and left me alone for the most part. Since I
was not in real trauma, I did not need much care. I was content to hit
my "magic button" and drift away under the din of the helicopters coming
and going. Although I was never there, I dreamt of Viet-Nam..
It turned out that every other patient in
Trauma Holding were attempted suicides. One lady had stabbed herself
SEVEN times, on girl had overdosed and shot herself in the heart only to
miss and scramble both lungs and her collar bones. There was also
a guy who had jumped off a three story building and shattered both legs.
There was an illegal alien who had stabbed herself in the stomach and tore
up her guts and another elderly lady that did the same. What a bunch of
freaks, I had to get out of there.
On the next day, at my request, they moved
me. The hospital was still full and there were no private rooms available.
Unfortunately, they moved to the Pediatric Burn Unit. This unit was full
of little burned
On the third day at 1am, I was awakened by
a huge ruckus in the unit. I learned that a nursing home in the Nashville
area had caught on fire and almost 60 elderly people had been injured and
were on their way to Vandy. Every non-critical bed was needed and
that meant I was being moved yet again.
They moved me to a private room finally.
At last I could sleep. I spent a day and a half there and was visited by
several dear friends. By this time my tolerance for Morphine had
increased and I was needing more or more to ease my pain. I was also
getting very hungry because I had not eaten since the morning that I was
admitted.
For reasons unknown, they moved me across
the hall to another room. I was finally given clear liquids and the some
solid food. Still I was in pain. Despite my increasing pain the docs took
me off my pump and gave me oral pain meds that were on a schedule. I could
only have them per the schedule and the Gestapo nurses were not real nice
or sympathetic. As the morphine faded away, my pain was starting to take
on a life of its own.
Later that night, my pain became unbearable.
Although my blood pressure was through the roof and I was screaming, the
go**amn nurses would not give me a pill because it wasn't time. I
felt like I was dying on the field at Gettysburg but I was actually in
the year 2003 in a state of the art hospital. My wife showed up and
gave those nurses down the road. I believe the words she called them
rhymed with "hunt". After three hours of agony, the charge nurse
called my doctor and he gave the OK for massive pain meds. I told every
nurse that crossed my path what I thought of them and their lack of care.
The Head trauma surgeon came up to see me.
He informed me that I as being rushed to the OR for emergency exploratory
surgery. While on the way down to the OR, a huge car wreck happened somewhere
in the city. There were eight critically wounded people and I was bumped
from the OR. Remember, I was in extreme agony and here I had to wait even
longer. They rolled me down to the Trauma OR Waiting and I saw an angel
for the first time in my life.
The charge nurse that night was named Tammy.
She saw my obvious discomfort and shot me up with Delodid and promised
more if I needed it. The drugs were making me sweat and she brought over
a small fan to cool me off and some ice chips. She seemed very concerned
about my pain level and made sure that I was comfy. I stayed there for
three hours and stayed pain free the entire time thanks to her efforts.
Someday, I decided, I would come back and thank her properly.
Finally, I was rolled into the OR, moved
myself onto the operating table and asked them to please get the ball rolling.
I faded away as the night turned into day.
When I awoke, I was miserable. I was
on oxygen, had a nasal gastric tube, a catheter, and 18" incision down
the middle of my chest AND a colostomy. The colostomy really freaked
me out. Depression set in and I fell back asleep. The surgeon came
in later and told me they found over 19 holes in my colon and that they
removed 10" of it. He also said that the colostomy was temporary
and would be reversed in 90 days. After four horrible days, I was finally
released to go home.
I have been at home ever since and even though
I can now change my wafer in record time, I still struggle mentally with
this colostomy. It keeps me from leaving the house most of the time
and is quite dehumanizing. I hate it. I cannot imagine this on a
permanent basis. I have left the house on a few occasions to see a movie
or do some XMAS shopping. But, I am always afraid of having an accident
in public. I have had numerous accidents at home and they are always
very traumatizing. Having to deal
Good luck to all of you out there with colostomys.
My heart goes out to each and everyone of you.
on the 2nd floor of the house, woke them
up and asked them to take me to the hospital ASAP. They hopped up
and threw on some clothes. Being strangers to the Raleigh area, we
did not know the way to the Hospital. We woke up my brother who decided
to go with us to show us the way.
me that my appendix had indeed ruptured
and I had almost died in the OR. Deciding that life was too short to die
in North Carolina, I set my sights on getting out of there.
occasionally and eat but not much.
They have two little Sheltie dogs who bark ALL the go**amn time and they
kept me on edge. The pain was still very severe and I suspected that
I still had problems.
miserable days, I made an appointment to
see my primary care doctor.
phone calls, they rolled me up to the Trauma
Holding Area which was on the top floor directly under the helicopter pad.
I was in a large glass room with several other people who from the looks
of them, had problems bigger than mine. Every one of them looked
just awful and had all manner of hoses and wires sticking out of all their
holes. And they were all exposed in one way or the other. I suppose
dignity is a big No-No in Trauma.
kids. My heart sank. The screams
I heard in there bright tears to my eyes. There is nothing worse in this
world that a child needlessly suffering. My problems, whatever they were,
paled in comparison to every child in that unit. I stayed in my bed and
hit my pump and did nothing else for two days. The nursing staff
woke me up every hour to check my vitals. Although heavily drugged,
I could tell that I needed some good sleep.
with ones sh** on such a close and personal
level is too much for me too handle. I don't want to make love to my wife
with this go**amn bag in the way and I don't sleep too well. Showering
sucks and I can't wear my normal pants due to the stoma being so low on
my abdomen. I wish that I had sought some help about this colostomy
related depression. I am a different person and I am not the man
that I was. Still, I have learned a few things that may help some of you.
My resection surgery is scheduled for 1/9/03.
I have to have a barium enema tomorrow and a couple of CT Scans. I am dreading
this with all my being but it is a necessary evil I suppose.
Previous |
Stories |
Next |
If you would like to use any of the images in these pages, please email me to get permission. Thanks.