Surgery Number Two

Before I move to the next surgery, I did forget to mention that I had lost a lot of blood during the first spinal fusion and I had to have a blood transfusion. That was an interesting experience. I remember when they hooked me up that the nurse told me it was cold and I thought, "So?". I couldn't figure out why she was telling me that. For all of you out there that have had a blood transfusion, you know what I am going to say, but for all of you that haven't - it's COLD! It's damn cold. You literally can feel the cold blood running through your veins and I remember saying to my father, "I'm cold!!". He went and got a nurse and I recall her coming in with heated blankets, which felt wonderful. However, it can take many, many hours to all get in and I was cold for several hours later. I remember that my arm ached because it hurt so bad. Honest, it was so cold, it ached. Horribly. I was very uncomfortable and I remember hoping and praying that I wouldn't need to do it again after the second surgery.

So, here I headed for surgery again. This time I knew the drill and everything went smoothly. I remember being cold in the OR again and I remember the smell of the mask. However, this time I woke up in awful, awful pain. It was pretty bad. I remember that I was surprised that when I did "come to", my face was wet and I realized that tears were running down my eyes. A nurse came and asked if I was in pain and I said "yes" and they must have given me more meds, because I fell asleep again. They kept me very still and they must have been given me more pain med's this time, because if I can recall correctly, I believe that I basically slept the whole next day away.

I was told that I needed a blood transfusion again. Yuck! I was still in a lot of pain and the cold blood transfusion was more than I could bear. I was Miserable - with a capital M!! It was soon over and within a couple of days, I was starting to feel better. By the third night or so after surgery, I was finally allowed solid food and I recall that it was later in the night and my mother had already gone for the evening. The nurse came in and said, "What do you want to eat?" and I asked, "Well, what are my choices?" and she said, "Well, it will have to be a sandwich from the refrigerator up here, let me go and see what we have". Well, once again, for all of you that know me well, I do NOT eat mayonaisse - never have, never will. Well - I shouldn't say NEVER did but now I can tolerate it but it's not my favorite thing in the world. So what does she come back with? A ham sandwich with mayonaisse! YUCK! But.....she had a Ring Ding too!! You have NO idea how exciting that was. You see, my mother - you know, the granola cruncher - very rarely had these kind of "treats" in our house. I was the kind of kid who dreamed of Ring Dings and now, without even asking, I am being offered a Ring Ding like it was no big deal. So, I said, "thank you" and scoffed it down as fast as I could. Then she went to check and see if there were any other sandwiches and came back with a tuna fish!! Now, didn't I just tell her that I don't eat mayonaisse??? Now I was getting perturbed - here I had been without food for days and I was now told that I could eat and there was no food for me!!!! Jeez, why didn't they just wait until morning for me to eat? Then she pulled her hand out from behind her back and said, "But I got you another one of these!!" and produced another Rind Ding. Well, I am not kidding you, I thought that I had hit the jackpot!! NEVER in my life had I ever had the opportunity to eat TWO Ring Dings in a day, never mind a few minutes!! It was so exciting. So I scoffed that one down too. I asked for apple juice and she promptly brought me some back. I had a roommate at the time, although I do not recall her name at all and she and I were watching TV very quietly (TV watching was a big no-no after 10PM) and suddenly..........I felt sick to my stomach. At first, I didn't say anything. Yet, within minutes, I also realized that I was going to have to ring for the nurse. But I hesitated, hoping and praying that the feeling would subside. It didn't. I rang the nurses bell and soon a nurse came. She no sooner entered and the room and the Ring Dings were no longer being digested! Oh dear, so I remember her saying, "Oh God, I'm going to get into big trouble for giving you a Ring Ding!" and my roommate said, "It's probably because you gave her two!!" and she put her finger to her lips and said, "Shhh!!!!!". So she got another nurse to help and they had to change my sheets and my johnny and get me all cleaned up. My stomach wasn't feeling good at all. As soon as they got me settled, oh lordy - I hit the nurses button again!! This time they arrived fast enough that at least half of my vomit ended up in the basin they had propped under my chin. Now, I know this is really gross, but don't get yourself too excited - everyone vomits and it is what it is. So they cleaned everything up again. Or at least started too. Now before I tell you what happened next, how many of you have had to vomit lying down? It's not easy. You feel like you are going to choke to death. So here I am, after two vomiting sessions and my back was killing me. I swore that I could feel every single stitch that ran up and down the length of my spine. Everytime I would lunge forward, or should I say upward, I felt as if I were slamming back down on the hard cast. It was painful and my stomach was feeling sick again and I started to cry. Then the vomitting began again. I remember them scurrying about and one of the nurses calling out to another one at the nurses station right outside my door. She came and one of my nurses instructed her to call Dr. Bradbury. Within minutes, I was given compazine. Compazine, for anyone who doesn't know, is a drug that helps control nausea and vomiting. The nausea soon subsided and I fell asleep. Very early the next morning, I remember being awakened by this sweet, sweet young lady explaining that she was my "private nurse" for the next few days. She was a overseas student nurse. I don't remember her name, but I remember that she was short and tiny - tinier than my mother and I loved her accent. I told her that I had relatives that lived in England too and she was just lovable. It was still dark when she had wakened me for the blood pressure and temp. check and as soon as I woke up, I was feeling nausous again. But I also felt really weird. Hard to put my finger on it and I didn't say anything about it. I just told her that I felt feeling nauseous again and she ran out to the nurses. By the time they came back, I was having the dry heaves horribly and all I can say, is that is was a truly scary and painful experience - laying flat on my back and I was in so much pain. I don't remember if they had to call a doctor again, but I was given more compazine. Now mind you, if I had only told them that I was feeling strange to begin with, they may have realized that I was already showing signs of an allergic reaction. Within a short time of the second shot of compazine, I fell asleep again. However, this time when I woke up, something was wrong and there was no denying it. I started talking with the nurse and I felt agitated for some reason. Then I remember feeling restless and having this urge to get up and run. I remember thinking, "I wish I could run the track in gym class right now, I feel like I could run for ever". We kept talking and I said to her, "I feel funny" and she asked me to explain and I remember quite vividly that I was restless and jittery and not knowing how to articulate it. Within a few more minutes, I started having twitching and uncontrollable movements of my eyes, lips, tongue, face, arms, and legs. It was as if I was having a major anxiety attack or panic attack and felt trapped within my own body. The nurse ran and got another nurse again. This time I remember someone saying, "Page Dr. Bradbury or Dr. Hardy and see if either are in the building!! STAT!". OMG! Stat? I had only heard that word on Marcus Welby, jeez.....what the heck was going on?? I didn't feel like I was going to die or anything, I just felt weird - but all these nurses were running around and freaking out and now I was scared again. But instead of tears, I was mad and started kicking and I couldn't control myself. I honestly don't know how much time passed or anything but I do remember Dr. Bradbury running in and I saw a needle and syringe and I remember him telling me that I was having an allergic reaction to compazine and that he was giving me a medicine called Benedryl to counteract the compazine. I remember three nurses holding me down and I wasn't trying to fight them, my body was not my own and I was very scared and it was moving around and I had no control over it. I don't remember anything after that and when I woke up, that same English nurse was there again. She came over and said my name. I looked at her and she said, "Good afternoon, sleepy head" and I said, "Hi" and she proceeded to tell me that my Mom had just stepped out and would be back in a minute and I said, "My mom? When did she get here?" and she said, "Honey, you've been asleep for almost 24 hours". 24 hours??? I soon found out that a whole day had passed. Dr. Bradbury had given me such a large dose of Benedryl that it knocked me out cold. Over the years, I have since found out  that Compazine reactions typically require a HUGE dose of Benedryl to counterbalace the effects. My mother soon came back and she was so happy to see me and I remember telling her, "They said STAT?" and she told me that I had had a very severe allergic reaction and that I needed to remember the name of the drug because it would be my responsibilty in the future to remember that I can never have it again. Trust me, I never forgot and whenever I am asked if I am allergic to anything, I always shout out COMPAZINE because I never, ever, ever want to experience that again!!

The breathing exercises were going full-force again, I was continually turned over to avoid the inevitable bed sores and I was becoming very bored. I was also becoming sick and tired of being there. One day soon after, my mother was looking at my legs and she asked me if my leg hurt. I said, "No. Why?". She said, "Because it is all swollen" and she went and got a nurse who checked it out too. The next thing I knew, Dr. Hardy was there examining me as well. As you have probably surmised, they were fearful that I had a blood clot. I honestly don't recall x-rays or anything, but I do remember my mother and the nurses having to "massage" my legs. They rubbed very hard and for the most part it hurt and I hated it. Suddenly, I had on those ugly stockings and I had a physical therapist who came up to my room and started me on a leg exercise program. He came daily for a few days and then I had to do the exercises on my own, several times a day. I only did them when a nurse or my mother made me. Frankly, in my 12-year old mind, blood clots were the least of my worries. I had to figure out how the heck I was going to pass the time to get the heck out of there.

There were so many kids there that I was now calling my friends. There was Marco. Marco was a boy who was a few years younger than me and he had Legg-Perthes Disease. But during the following week, I was told that I was going to school!!! School, can you imagine? I had been so damn happy not to be going to school, and here I was now going to school in a bed. What an experience. I am truly being flooded with memories and I have so much to share with all of you.