Results

Kay’s follow-up surgery is over, and went reasonably well, though not as well as it might have, in a best case scenario. Kay knew that, if she woke up in the recovery room after the surgery without me already attendant upon her, she would be staying in the hospital. Although it was not the predicted outcome, it did happen. She immediately searched for confirmation of her worst non-death fear – a colostomy – and found that she had not received one. Indeed, no indication had been given that such a measure was even a possibility, much less a likelihood, but it is one of her least dispellable fears. She did find, however, that she had been fitted with another JP drain, and if she looked at the clock, if there was even one available, she found that she had been in the operating room for two hours total, one more than had been planned.

The reason for the extended surgery time was simply the difficulty of the surgery. The abscess wreaked considerable havoc in Kay’s gut, essentially undoing all that had previously been done to un-stick the organs from each other. All was tender, inflamed adhesion, as far as the scope could see, which was not far, as of the reproductive organs only the end of one fallopian tube – whether left or right could not be discerned – was visible. (This tube, for what it’s worth, did have intact fimbria.) Drs. Hilgers and Fitzgibbons also found some remnant of the abscess, though only a teaspoon-sized portion, which they removed, and they “irrigated” – medical-speak for “rinsed” – the area with an antibiotic wash. The JP drain was fitted to allow anything remaining of the abscess to be pulled out, along with blood, irrigating fluids, and whatever other incidental liquids had collected as a result of the surgery.

The primary object of the operation was, I may remind you, the extraction of three pieces of GoreTex bandage. Those bandages had been placed over Kay’s ovaries and uterus to reduce the normal adhesions due to any surgery as much as possible, but had been overwhelmed by the toxicity and ubiquity of the abscess, which left scarring everywhere else. In their efforts to remove these pieces, they had to remove some of the new abscesses, but were hindered in their efforts by the effective blockade created by the jumbled and cohered organs. They hesitated to do much in the way of what they had done last time – separating the organs by removing the scarring – because the inflammation has not yet settled down, and the organs are thus weaker than they would be normally. Of particular concern was the possibility of penetrating the wall of the bowel. Both because this surgery was planned to be less severe, and thus a full bowel prep was not ordered, and because of the weakened nature of the bowel due to the inflammation, which could result in a torn bowel, the surgeons in the end chose to curtail their chase for the third and final piece of GoreTex membrane, leaving it behind.

Kay stayed in the maternity ward, where all of Dr. Hilgers’s patients stay when hospital time is required afterwards (this is either ironic or appropriate, depending on the eventual outcomes of their cases – though the Pope Paul VI Institute and the nurses there were good enough to inquire of us whether we thought the maternity ward was a bad choice for their patients; we told them we were happy to see the babies, if for no other reason than that they were a welcome diversion from the task of healing). The maternity nurses, though a bit shocked to see us – they had hoped Kay would have to endure no more hospital time – were as kind and attentive as ever, apparently giving Dr. Hilgers the news that they felt Kay deserved a gold medal for her behavior, news he promptly passed on to us. Kay was a bit befuddled by this compliment, asking me, “What have I done to deserve a medal? How terrible must the other women be who come through here that I deserve a medal?” I told her it was due to her almost utter lack of complaining, to her patience and mildness when she called the nurses in for help, to her continual sense of humor, to her persistent efforts to comply with their healing instructions (particularly the need to take multiple walks a day). I doubt the other women, mostly delivered mothers recuperating for a day or two, were great termagants, but the nurses’ sense of pity for her rarely precedented stay in their ward, and her perfect behavior throughout, likely elicited the compliment.

On Monday, at one o’clock in the afternoon, Kay and I had our regularly scheduled post-op with Dr. Hilgers, though he had been quite attentive that week already – as is customary he came in to see us every day, skipping only Sunday this time as Kay was clearly in no danger (though he did send his resident in to see her). He had little to say that he had not already said, and his usual joviality was rather suppressed by his discouragement over the results of the June procedure. We had plenty of questions for him, of course, mostly about the future. As the blog format and its readers, however, are polonian in their prejudices, I will attain brevity by saving those – including the questions addressing the mystery of the missing third bit of GoreTex and what happens next – for the next posting.

A Strange Season

This has been an odd summer. As Kay and I walked in the cool of the summer night around ten o’clock, the breeze just ruffling the leaves so that their silver undersides glimmered dimly in the street lights, we marveled at just how little heat there has been this summer. We’ve been blessed, though, for the heat would have added to the discomfort she has felt recovering from her surgery. In the cool, she is progressing apace, and looks to be healing fully. The hole from the JP drain is closed and is almost healed, and her scar looks great. There are still a few issues that seem to be left over, however, from the stress her body has been through. She’s still complaining of an odd taste in the mouth, but I think that will go away once the effect of the antibiotics wears off and her system is allowed to return to normal. Because of her temperature being lower than normal for the past few days, we are not really worried about a resurgent infection, but the doctors have suggested that she may have a bit of anemia, so they have scheduled a blood test for tomorrow. And she has had some problems with digestion. We have introduced new foods to her system gradually, a few fruits here, a couple of seeds or nuts there, but after a particularly rich delayed anniversary dinner (we hit five years in early July), including escargots, Alaskan king crab, and rice pudding accompanied by the ever-perilous raspberry, she awoke at 2:00 AM with stomach pains. Sitting up helped to ease them and allowed her to sleep eventually, and nothing more occurred. Tonight she is a bit uncomfortable, too. I hope that some Tums antacid will help her to sleep.

Meanwhile, I have become beleaguered as well. Yesterday, lying on the bed in the hotel room we ended up scoring for free on the night of our anniversary celebration, I felt the room begin to spin. Only once or twice did it go round, and then it was over, but it was alarming. Rising, I realized that I didn’t feel quite right in the head, and I haven’t since. My head spins seem to be related to the motion of getting up or lying down, and it’s more common when I am lying down. Luckily, my mother is office manager for a neurologist. When I called him after hours yesterday, having mentioned these odd symptoms to my mother late in the day and getting her imprimatur to call her boss, he dashed away my apologies, saying something like, “No, you are not allowed to apologize – you are a member of an honorable family that are good friends of mine. You are welcome to call.” When I explained my symptoms and answered his diagnostic questions, he said I was likely suffering from something in my inner ear, not my brain, but that I should get an MRI anyway, just to be safe. So off I go tomorrow, to relieve my wife’s (and my own) lingering fears that I might have a brain tumor or a stroke, that she will not be left alone at the end of this strange cool summer that we have spent fearing for her, not for me.