Worries

I hadn't been in the hospital 24 hours yet, and I was worried I might never get out. I pretty much quit drinking water, and skipped my lunch, because it seemed like nothing was getting out of my stomach.

That included the medicine that was supposed to help make my gut work. I had never heard of this drug, enterig, or something like that. I asked the nurse about it, and she read me what the label said. Something about blocking the opiate receptors on smooth muscle. Most pain meds, at least strong ones, are forms of opiates, and they have some major side effects. One of those is slowing gut mobility. Some opiates are used to treat diarrhea. But now there is a drug that protects the gut from the side effect, but doesn't interfere with the pain blocking of the opiates. That sounds really cool.

But I took the pill by mouth, so it got to my stomach. It wouldn't be absorbed much if it didn't get out, and into the intestine. All signs were that nothing was getting out of my stomach, except the wrong way. What if my gut just stopped working all together? I saw that once. A man who had had an aneurysm repair, and then had an ileus, meaning his gut just stopped moving. His abdomen was tight as a drum, and sounded like one when you tapped it. There were no sounds of gurgling when you listened. The doctors were trying all kinds of ways to decrease the pressure, but nothing was working. He'd been there more than a week since his operation, and things were just getting worse. I was beginning to picture myself in the same condition.

And then the nurse started messing with another system. Dr. Paddy had ordered that my catheter be removed. The nurse explained the process, which I understood. The catheter was a tube stuck into my urethra, all the way into my bladder. Once in the bladder, some fluid was injected into a tube in the tube to inflate a balloon at the end of the the catheter to keep it from slipping back out of the bladder. The main catheter tube went to a bag, which collected all the urine that came down into the bladder. A catheter like that is put in during surgery so the bladder doesn't fill up and get in the way. Or maybe so the patient doesn't pee all over everything. Anyway, the catheter was still in. But now it was supposed to be removed.

Here's the thing, from my point of view. Pulling that tube out of my dick would hurt. It probably hurt more putting it in, but I was sedated for that, and didn't remember it. I was in enough pain.

And what happens once the catheter is gone? My kidneys seemed to be working fine, and I was getting lots of fluids from the IV, so I would have to pee. The nurses and PCA's were regularly emptying the bag at the end of the catheter. I was making plenty of urine. Without the catheter, I would have to pee into something, and walking to the bathroom scared me. So I resisted.

But the nurse showed me a portable urinal, which was a sort of pitcher, something I could pee into in the bed. And she reminded me that without the catheter, it would be easier to walk, which I was supposed to do some time that day.

I gave in, and let her take out the catheter. She used a syringe to deflate the balloon. All I could see was the plunger on the syringe pulling back. I didn't  feel anything. Then she slowly withdrew the tube. At first, I just felt some tugging. Then it started to sting like crazy. But then it was out. That actually felt better. I realized I had been aware, sort of, of the pressure of the catheter in my urethra all along. It bothered me a little, but so much less than the pain in my tummy that I ignored it. Now it was gone, and once the stinging  stopped, I felt better. That was the first step back toward normal.

A couple of hours later, though, I found I wanted to pee. The urge was building. I grabbed the urinal, and tried to figure the best position for it, so I could pee into it, and not leak onto the sheets or mattress. I pulled the end of my dick out, and pushed it into the opening of the urinal, and I felt the need to pee. But I couldn't push. Even thinking about pushing hurt. Hurt a lot. So I couldn't do anything. I tried, and waited for about ten minutes. Finally, I gave up, shifted my dick back down out of the urinal, and covered myself with the hospital gown. I closed the urinal, and put it back on the bedside rail. And I began to worry that, because of all the pain in my tummy, I wouldn't be able to pee.

At that point, I knew, I had IV fluids and sips of water going in, and so far as I could tell, nothing coming out. Except sweat. I would sometimes break into sweat. Maybe it was pain. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was just hot in that hospital bed. But for a few minutes, I was dripping sweat.

During that afternoon, I tried three more times to pee, with the same result. I felt the need, but couldn't make the urine flow. I was beginning to worry. So was my nurse. Maybe this whole operation was a bad idea.