It's day, lessee, 5 after my tonsillectomy (which I opted for and didn't have to undergo; I'm beginning to wonder if I'm insane). I found great information online—mostly in forums—about what to expect as an adult recovering from tonsillectomy. I thought I might add to the noise.
Unfortunately, there is no one thing to expect. A friend of mine once was out of the office for three weeks recovering; another friend recently recovered so quickly that he drove 5 hours the second day after his surgery, and two weeks later was shooting tequila (I witnessed this). So what to expect? Anything.
As for me, there are a couple of things I should mention. First is that they gave me a drug called "magic mouthwash" (and despite the name, it is not in any way mind-opening) containing lidocaine, maalox, and benadryl. I won't touch the stuff. I can't stand the feeling of anything in my mouth being numbed, especially my throat or tongue. I have a phobia called "global anxiety"—a fear of choking or asphyxiating when I swallow—probably at least partially resulting from the swollen tonsils problem.
When I came out of anesthesia in the operating room, I was really agitated. What was freaking me out, I finally came to realize, was that my throat was numb. The first words I uttered (in a tiny, raspy voice), beyond gibberish, were "I feel compelled to swallow but it's not possible."
So much for normal. Even in confused states I sound like one of those weird little kids who reads too much and never hangs out with other kids. What will I sound like if I ever get dementia, I wonder? (This is not a thoughtless crack at victims of dementia; I used to be a caregiver and I think about things like that.)
So without the benefit of magic mouthwash, as enticing as it sounds, I have to rely on liquid hydrocodone (generic Vicodin) for pain relief. It's nasty stuff. I'm pretty sure my nausea and headaches have stemmed from the medicine rather than the surgery.
Anyway, with that caveat, here is a breakdown, as I remember, of my experience, with notable points summed up at the end for the benefit of those looking for information only (note: this is not my best writing. I'm drugged up. I can't spell Vicodin the same way twice. I won't even bother to fix the verb tense shifts, despite the name of this blog alluding to the writer's mantra: revise, revise, revise):
Day 1 Surgery at 3. I enjoyed the nurse who put in my IV; I hope I run into him at a bar or something when I'm wearing more makeup and, er, clothes. (I asked him, "Is it OK that I kept my own socks on?" His reply: "Should be fine. You're having a tonsillectomy, right? Probably won't get in the way—unless you're one of those people who tends to put their foot in their mouth.")
Most of my time at the hospital was spent waiting in boredom. I have a brief head rush and my eyes fill up with liquid a few minutes after the IV starts. I tell a nurse and she blows it off as anxiety.
Note: My stepmom drove 3 hours and took time off to help me through surgery and recovery, an act of kindness that means a lot to me and made the day possible. Later, in my foul and freaky mood, I drove her away, but that's another story.
After the procedure, my stepmom reports that one of the tonsils was really infected and the other was gross, too, so this was no mistake. Even if it doesn't feel worth it right now.
I'm mostly out of it for the whole night. Outside, Old Man Winter has made himself known with a vengeance, having been absent for most of his namesake season. Pain: Irrelevant. So out of it, weak, and confused that pain was only part of my situation. I find that as long as I don't move much and people don't say much, I'm OK, if OK means "not actively being tortured."
Day 2 Pain: Don't even remember. A constant 8? I spend most of the day sleeping fitfully. I keep track of when I take the Vicadin, a trick my stepmom introduced that I highly recommend to anyone recovering from anything requiring pain killers. You'll never remember otherwise, and your dosages will be intermittent and inconsistent. All I can eat is (very slowly) frozen things. Popsicles and a bit of ice cream.
In the afternoon, a friend comes over with frozen yogurt and a hyacinth. She stays and we talk until I begin to fade away. The vicodin, incidentally, makes you feel as though you're OK to talk, but it only lasts a while. I feel bad asking her to leave. Her visit was like sunshine. She walked a mile each way in the snow just to make me feel better.
News comes that the roads are even worse where my stepmom lives, and I say I was going to ask if she can stay another night.
Day 3 Pain: 5 in stasis, 8 swallowing. Post-nasal drip: Unbearable. Uvula swollen; back of throat feels like I got slimed by an alien. Constantly trying to spit up, which hurts. I'm glad I have a cup for spitting, a box of Kleenexes, and a garbage near my bed.
A friend brings over her dog, Rupert, who loves me, and a really good humidifier. This, it turns out, is a must for recovery (the humidifier, and yes, possibly the doggie cuddles). I try mashed potatoes and gluten-free gravy; terrible mistake. Will be sticking with the cold and frozen stuff for another day. While my stepmom is gone at the store, a nurse or somebody (?) from the hospital calls with follow-up checkup questions (apparently designed to torture tonsillectomy victims who, it's worth noting, CAN'T TALK). She asks if everything was going well; when I describe what's bothering me, she talks to me like I was in 4th grade and incapable of tying my shoelaces. "Well, what do you normally do for post-nasal drip?" Every time I speak, the film in my throat grows thicker, so I have to pause and try to clear it (painfully) between sentences. She didn't seem to have any sympathy, but that could be my interpretation through the phlegmish veil of hell. She says she'd have the doctor's office call me. They never did.
(Drama alert) Meanwhile, my stepmom has to stay another night because of the weather. I misinterpret her terseness as being irritated at me for asking her to stay longer in the first place, causing her to be stuck by another storm. She goes away and returns with movies. I begin watching a movie with her while doing macramé but am unable to finish.
My bad mood continues after a fitful nap, and we have a blowout fight. She leaves. I don't have the energy to feel guilty yet. I feel a little guilty anyway and have decided we both behaved like monsters. There's more to it, but I've removed it. Let's just say that the lesson is, be prepared to be at your worst.
I walk the three blocks to a neighborhood Safeway to pick up Rx refill and some Mucinex. Pharmacy lets me know that the trucks didn't make it because of the weather; they lend me a little of the hydrocodone liquid—enough to last a day.
Once I'm home and take the Mucinex: RELIEF! At last I can breathe and sleep with minimal throat blockage. Rupert and I are relatively happy campers.
Day 4 Days 3 and 4 are the worst. Pain: 6 in stasis (it has spread to my ears and an occasional throbbing headache); 7-8-9 swallowing. I wake up in the middle of the night with a terrible headache and dizziness; I decide that's a sign I need to force myself to drink more water. Swallowing feels as though the liquid is coating my throat and trickling down, and it's very uncomfortable, but at least it's now doable. But I learn that if I wait until the Vicadin has kicked in (about a half hour after taking), I can drink most of a glass of cold water in a few goes.
I call the pharmacy and they're still out of the liquid vicadin. Two things dawn on me. 1, It's Friday. 2, What about people whose medicine is critical? Fortunately for me, anyway, they send the Rx across town. I am blessed enough to have a friend who's willing to drive across town and pick it up for me in this terrible weather.
Rupert and I hang out until my friend picks him up after 3. I'm feeling a little more able to eat. Finally able to be awake long enough for one movie (the first "Sherlock Holmes," which I enjoyed despite its bastardization of the real Holmes). Continued taking Vicodin and Mucinex at the same time. They're a little hard to take at once (lots of sharp syrupy goop), but otherwise I'll forget. Applesauce immediately afterward helps hide the flavor; an ice pop helps mask the pain. Had some mashed potatoes, thin, with no gravy but with some "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" (which I wish had a different name; I love the stuff, but really?) and did OK. Heaping amounts of applesauce. Continue to force water down. Noticed that I drank almost all the water in my big Brita pitcher since I came home from surgery, so that's a good sign.
At 9:30, I took both medicines and fell asleep. I woke up at 2:30 in the morning (Day 5) in terrible pain. So recovering has a little catch: If you're feeling better, you might oversleep and forget to take your medicine. Note. Began setting an alarm on my cell phone.
Day 5 Feeling better. Pain: 4 in stasis; 7 when swallowing or burping or performing other movements of the mouth (it all still hurts, but now I can at least move my neck around. Don't forget to stretch your neck, by the way, now and again). Extra spittle continues. There's one spot in my throat that I may have aggravated when I was trying to hock up a particularly nasty gob of crap last night, but it may also be where a scab is starting to come off. Woke up feeling well-rested. Now that I have figured out the waiting game, I knew to wait until my vicadin had almost worn off (about 3 hours) to walk to Safeway and pick up some supplies. Purchases: Cheetoh puffs, two kinds of pudding, a bottle of 7Up, orange Tic Tacs, and Robitussin. (The Mucinex syrup I had purchased before was a little strong; it stung in my throat and was expensive. I also don't think I'll need a giant bottle now.)
I feel like I have lots of energy, other than the wooziness, but I'm still only good for a couple hours at a time. Started writing this blog...eyelids began to fall. Back into napping cycle. Also, it's worth note that I started the day more nauseated than usual and believed for a minute at Safeway that I was going to vomit and make a scene; the 7Up helped but only temporarily. Tic Tacs also help.
So that's my experience so far. It may be helpful for at least one person, but like I said, nothing is universal in this game. My biggest advice is to stock up on applesauce and popsicles, avoid anything salty or warm for at least 3 days, and have a humidifier going all the time. Drink as much water as you can stand. Keep a piece of paper next to your medicine to record when you take it; set an alarm so you don't oversleep and wake up in extreme pain. And if you're taking hydrocodone, know that it'll give you a half-hour window when you can eat and drink, followed by at least two hours of drowsiness. Ocassionally ice your throat and don't forget to stretch your neck a couple times a day to relax and keep the muscles moving. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention (in fact did, and am adding this after-the-fact): the smell is disgusting. Burnt skin constantly in your mouth is not a pretty taste or smell, my friend. Brush your teeth and get something, like a nice little hyacinth, that smells fresh and pretty in your living quarters.
Tomorrow is Sunday. The next day, I return to work. I'll report back on how that goes.
No comments:
Post a Comment