Clearing the Air

That day after the surgery was slow, tedious, painful, miserable, and unavoidable. I would have loved to be completely sedated through the whole thing, and have woken up several days later. But the doctors and nurses wanted me to breathe and walk. That is supposed to help with the whole recovery thing.

I did use the incentive spirometer several times a day. It wasn't bad. I could take a breath in, getting as much air as I could into my lungs. How much depended on the position I was in. More when lying down or standing, less sitting in bed. More pressure on my tummy, I guess. I also managed two walks around the floor that Wednesday. I kept the splint blanket tight against my tummy the whole way, and I just swallowed the pain. When I got back to my room, I collapsed into bed, and more or less didn't move. I think I drifted into sleep both times.

Having thrown up twice Wednesday morning, I just skipped meals for the rest of the day. I sipped a little water because my mouth got dry. I was really worried that my stomach wasn't emptying at all. The doctor had added another IV med to help with nausea and stomach mobility, but I had no way to know if it was working. The rest of my gut was still rumbling, but that was all.

Until the wee small hours of Thursday morning. Then, when I sat up to try to pee again, I felt a bubble shift downward in my gut, right to the end of the tube. I have never wanted to fart so bad in my life, but I couldn't. Adding any pressure hurt too much. So I sat and waited. And nothing happened.

Oh, except I did manage to pee. The second time I peed after the catheter was removed, it took about five minutes waiting, and actually three tries with the urinal. the third time, it took two tries, and less than five minutes. I was getting good at it. I had to. That IV was still running pretty fast. I was being fulled to the gills with fluids, and now I had to get them out myself. But each time, it got a little easier.

Later in the morning, with my fourth time urinating, I felt another bubble move down. I didn't try to push. I sat forward, using external pressure. And there it went. A tiny pop, and something came out.

Who would ever have thought that passing gas would be worthy of celebration? But that meant my gut was, indeed, working. Hallelujah!