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elfsToday has been a small disappointment, a modest success, and a huge disappointment, in that order.
Yesterday one of the nurses saw that on the list of assignments I was supposed to be getting zinc, so she took two zinc tablets, put them in warm water, and tried to crush them as well as she could before putting them into the narrow feeding tube. She failed so the tube ended up blocked by the tablet. By the end of the evening I was back on intravenous feeding: saline, glucose, potassium, andh electrolytes, with daily additions of micronutrients. My insides are now completely deprived of food.
I was scheduled for a return to Interventionist Radiology to try and unblock the tube. At 1:30pm today they came and wheeled my down there and we went through the same procedure as the time before. Unfortunately, this there was no success. Lacking additional time or consent to sedate, we had to reschedule, again, for the procedure be attempted once more later that afternoon by a more experienced physician and with my consent to sedate me and replace the tube if necessary.
When I get back from the procedure, I ask the nurse if I can take a walk before she hooks me back up again. She agrees, so today I did eight laps around the floor (about 1600 steps, total), plus two sets of 6 high-angled push-ups (just enough to wake up the muscles in my arms), two sets of 12 calf-raises each, and one set of 12 squats. Still hard to find ways to do hinge or pull exercises. My nurse says “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“Nope,” I said. “And it’s nice to remind my body that I’m coming to put it back into shape once I break out of this place.”
So at 3:30 a “transport assistant” comes and wheels me down to surgical prep, where I wait in a very cold room while we go through what will be different this time. I sign the consent form for a big dose of anti-anxiety medication to handle how I’ll feel if they have to replace the tube.
The new doc goes through the same process as the previous one and with the same results. After three or four tries with different kinds of, basically, drain snakes, he gives up and says, “Okay, we’re gonna replace the tube.” Since I’m not technically going to be “sedated,” just relaxed, a nurse anesthesiolgist administers a big dose of anti-anxiety medication which, to my surprise, works quite well. I can feel everything going on but I just kinda sorta don’t care that much. He pulls the entire old tube out, the most traumatic part of which was disconnecting the “sinus bridle,” a silicone thing that’s actually wrapped all the way up and around the nasal bone to come out both nostrils and provide a secure mount point for the hose.
And then he puts the new one in. It’s uncomfortable, but as I said the medication makes it so that I don’t really care. I make the appropriate noises, reminding him that “If I feel something is really wrong I’ll let you know in clear English.” I’m clear-headed and communicative but I’m able to handle this disgusting, sinus-and-palate-beating experience without too much concern.
All seems well and they wheel me into recovery. I have only the TV for company and it seems like every channel is half advertising. I’m sick of having my attention span shattered by shit like that.
Everything seems fine for about half and hour and then, suddenly, I start to feel nauseous. I sit up hard in the bed and bend over and begin dry heaving. Nothing is coming up– I haven’t had food in days, the bile pump had been hooked up during the procedure, I was as empty as Liz Truss’s economic plans.
Then suddenly, I cough hard, gag, and the entire feeding tube comes out of my mouth. I hit the panic button and the nurse comes running. They immediately grasp what’s happening and call the gastrointestinal surgeon who put it in. Realizing the problem instantly, he agrees to cut the tube where it exits my mouth, frees it from the bridle, and we pull the last 20cms back through my sinuses.
The procedure is a failure. My body rejected the implant.
Because the “procedures” were so widely scheduled, I didn’t have any visitors today. No sense since nobody could know when I was going to be available. The bridle is left in place in case we try again tomorrow. I’m back on the intravenous nutrition thing again.
Today has been a real thrice-damned disappointment, let me tell you.
Yesterday one of the nurses saw that on the list of assignments I was supposed to be getting zinc, so she took two zinc tablets, put them in warm water, and tried to crush them as well as she could before putting them into the narrow feeding tube. She failed so the tube ended up blocked by the tablet. By the end of the evening I was back on intravenous feeding: saline, glucose, potassium, andh electrolytes, with daily additions of micronutrients. My insides are now completely deprived of food.
I was scheduled for a return to Interventionist Radiology to try and unblock the tube. At 1:30pm today they came and wheeled my down there and we went through the same procedure as the time before. Unfortunately, this there was no success. Lacking additional time or consent to sedate, we had to reschedule, again, for the procedure be attempted once more later that afternoon by a more experienced physician and with my consent to sedate me and replace the tube if necessary.
When I get back from the procedure, I ask the nurse if I can take a walk before she hooks me back up again. She agrees, so today I did eight laps around the floor (about 1600 steps, total), plus two sets of 6 high-angled push-ups (just enough to wake up the muscles in my arms), two sets of 12 calf-raises each, and one set of 12 squats. Still hard to find ways to do hinge or pull exercises. My nurse says “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
“Nope,” I said. “And it’s nice to remind my body that I’m coming to put it back into shape once I break out of this place.”
So at 3:30 a “transport assistant” comes and wheels me down to surgical prep, where I wait in a very cold room while we go through what will be different this time. I sign the consent form for a big dose of anti-anxiety medication to handle how I’ll feel if they have to replace the tube.
The new doc goes through the same process as the previous one and with the same results. After three or four tries with different kinds of, basically, drain snakes, he gives up and says, “Okay, we’re gonna replace the tube.” Since I’m not technically going to be “sedated,” just relaxed, a nurse anesthesiolgist administers a big dose of anti-anxiety medication which, to my surprise, works quite well. I can feel everything going on but I just kinda sorta don’t care that much. He pulls the entire old tube out, the most traumatic part of which was disconnecting the “sinus bridle,” a silicone thing that’s actually wrapped all the way up and around the nasal bone to come out both nostrils and provide a secure mount point for the hose.
And then he puts the new one in. It’s uncomfortable, but as I said the medication makes it so that I don’t really care. I make the appropriate noises, reminding him that “If I feel something is really wrong I’ll let you know in clear English.” I’m clear-headed and communicative but I’m able to handle this disgusting, sinus-and-palate-beating experience without too much concern.
All seems well and they wheel me into recovery. I have only the TV for company and it seems like every channel is half advertising. I’m sick of having my attention span shattered by shit like that.
Everything seems fine for about half and hour and then, suddenly, I start to feel nauseous. I sit up hard in the bed and bend over and begin dry heaving. Nothing is coming up– I haven’t had food in days, the bile pump had been hooked up during the procedure, I was as empty as Liz Truss’s economic plans.
Then suddenly, I cough hard, gag, and the entire feeding tube comes out of my mouth. I hit the panic button and the nurse comes running. They immediately grasp what’s happening and call the gastrointestinal surgeon who put it in. Realizing the problem instantly, he agrees to cut the tube where it exits my mouth, frees it from the bridle, and we pull the last 20cms back through my sinuses.
The procedure is a failure. My body rejected the implant.
Because the “procedures” were so widely scheduled, I didn’t have any visitors today. No sense since nobody could know when I was going to be available. The bridle is left in place in case we try again tomorrow. I’m back on the intravenous nutrition thing again.
Today has been a real thrice-damned disappointment, let me tell you.
