Yesterday marked my umpteenth visit to Lahey Clinic for followups with Dr. Pomposelli in Transplant and Dr. Piessens (pronounced Pee-sehns, not Pie-sense) in Infectious Disease. Why do I have to see a specialist in infectious disease you ask? One of the fun things about pancreatitis, not the most fun, mind you, is that my pancreas keeps leeching out this necrotic fluid into my abdominal cavity as well as other premium destinations. Sometimes, not every time, this fluid is infected with all sorts of lovely bacteria and things that make me very, very sick. You can tell it's infected because when I empty my JP drains there is quite the strong and awful odor that wafts out. The best I can describe the smell as would be rotting bandages and vinegar. Not the yummiest cocktail I can think of. I think Kelley would be in agreement with me since she has to help me change my dressings at least once a day and sometimes the smell is enough to make one gag and have to leave the room after the futility of trying to hold one's breath. Disgusting? Sure. I'm just telling it like it is, kiddos.
Anyhway, I met with Dr. Piessens first and she is a very pleasant woman who doesn't treat me like an idiot. I've got a thing against health care providers that don't talk to me like I know what I'm talking about. I've lived with this disease, they haven't so it behooves me to stay abreast of what's going on in my own body. She was asking about how I was dealing with the antibiotics I'm on to deal with my infected fluid, Cipro and Flagyl, and I told her things were pretty ok, feeling better than I was when I was last admitted. Flagyl can cause fevers, nausea, vomiting, and general crappiness. Can't say I've had much of that, doc. The only side effect I've been concerned with is the two little toes on my left foot do this weird not quite numb, not quite tingly thing sometimes. She assured me it's not the meds, if it was both of my feet would feel that way, not just wee bits. However, she did say it's more than likely nerve damage caused by my lengthy initial hospital stay but the nerves should reconnect themselves in time so it will eventually go away. My first thought was I was getting blood clots again. Huzzah! Don't have to worry about that for awhile.
Fun fact: If you've had blood clots at all, ever, you are 80%+ more likely to get them again than the average person. So kids, if you've had a blood clot don't stay in bed for longer than 72 hours at a time or else you may be in trouble.
After my brief meeting with Dr. Piessens I went down a few floors (Lahey clinic is a big ass hospital) to Transplant to see my old pal Dr. Pomposelli. It's still odd to me that I have to see the Transplant department when they didn't transplant anything, just cut away a large section of my pancreas. Actually, what they told my parents was they "power washed" my insides. A fitting description because when I was pre-surgery and in surgery I was FULL of fluid. Tubes everywhere in and out of me. There's a picture or two floating around that I'll post. It should make me uncomfortable to see how bad off I was but it's pretty interesting. Back to the story at hand: Dr. Pomposelli and I sat down for a chat, as we do every two or three weeks when I have drains in and I say
"Jimmy" as I tend to call him, not to his face.
"Jimmy," I say, "what's going down, brotherman?"
"Well Paddy, you're still draining, right?"
"Yup, 40-50 CCs or so in the back one and 20-30 in the front twice a day or so."
"Hehe, well I guess we keep them in for awhile longer then. Do you mind getting a CT scan next time?"
"Ugh. Fuck. Do I have to?"
"Well it's the best way to see what's going on in there so we can figure out what to do with these drains."
"Shit sandwich. Alright, if you think it's the best course. Can I do it in NH and just bring the disk?"
"Oh yeah, just don't trust those monkeys to send me the disk. Grab it yourself."
"Mmk, see you you in three weeks."
No lie, this is basically how we talk. Jimmy is a very frank doctor and doesn't bullshit or gloss over anything with me. It's very refreshing. Oh, and my apprehension to having a CT scan isn't unwarranted; as of this writing, since December 15th I have undergone 21 CT scans. If you have never had one or don't know much about them, CT scans are pretty innocuous things unless you consider one pass of a CT machine is the radiological equivalent of 1,000 chest X-rays. Every time I have a scan I get at least two or three passes. Sometimes over my genitals. That's an average of 62 passes or 62,000 X-rays in seven months. My body oozes barium now. That's another thing, that contrast material they make you drink/take through IV never leaves your body. I'm a walking Radioactive Man. Or Fallout Boy. Not Fall Out Boy. Makes me feel bad for those poor kids with cancer they get this stuff every day. Damn. Now, I'm not an alarmist and I'm a pretty trusting person when it comes to my doctors and nurses but it's a little disconcerting when the things they do to help me now could riddle me with cancer down the road. Let's just hope I can jump the shark again.
As a final note so I can get off here and Kelley can play her Zombie Lane game, Jimmy more or less told me that because my pancreas will eventually seal up and my liver and kidneys are surprisingly in great shape I could probably drink again if I wanted to. I really, really, wish he didn't tell me that. Not that it means I could go on benders and get wasted but if I were to have A drink socially it would be ok for my body. Ehhhh that doesn't sit well with me. I like thinking that if I drink again I will die because that's what they told my parents then me after I regained consciousness post-surgery (medically-induced comas RULE except they don't.) The finality of that ultimatum keeps me sane and sober and I very much love living sober. I'll never go back to my old life again, even for one drink because that's a person I let die on the operating table and the person that got up and is typing this now is WAY better. The only good telling me that it's ok to have a drink does is says I can take NyQuil or have food with alcohol in it and not die in the process. Close the door, thank you very much, that's all I want to glean from this. I've stared death in the face. Literally. You know what I learned? What I have now is far better than the alternative. Sorry Jimmy, no hooch for me but I will enjoy some delicious green tea and cranberry juice now that I'm off of Coumadin.
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