Two days later, my visiting nurse and I met at the wound care center so that she could finally meet the surgeon she had heard so many good things about. When we first got there I could tell that the nurse from the wound care center was a little worried that my nurse was with me. I can only assume that that is because a visiting nurse would typically only show up with a patient when things are not going well. My visiting nurse then explained that at her last visit that she had said it was closed.
After that, I personally do not remember anything else that happened at the appointment. My visiting nurse, however, filled me in on the rest of the visit when I spoke to her on the phone the next day. She said that she met the surgeon and that he poked at the wound several times in order to make sure it was closed. After which she told the surgeon that she wanted to actually hear him say the words "it's done." He apparently said it, although I have absolutely no recollection of those words or anything similar being said.
Usually, I remember even the smallest details about what goes on at my appointments, so I think it's weird that I do not know anything that happened. My guess is that I do not remember because I already knew it was good news even before the day of the appointment, so I sort of went into the appointment in a fog.
I know I left the appointment very happy but was still sort of in shock that it was really over. When I left my appointment I called my parents to tell them. Me being the way I am, I phrased it to my father as, "does the word discharge mean anything to you?"
My dad, being just as snarky and smart-assed as I am replied back with, "well if it's discharge coming from your wound eww gross, but if you mean discharged from the doctor then yay that's awesome!"
I laughed and told him the good news and left it at that. When I got home I must have still been shocked because it wasn't until about four hours later that I actually looked at my boyfriend and said, "so wait a sec, am I actually done? Like finished, as in no more wound."
He said, "yep, you're done. All better!"
I was excited to hear that but it still hadn't had time to sink in yet. It was about six hours after my appointment that I finally came to the realization that this journey had finally reached a conclusion. When I realized it was over, my reaction, can only be described as the 'ugly cry.' You know, the one where you have snot all over your face and you are crying so hard there is no sound? Yeah, that one. I believe this extreme reaction was due to the fact that two weeks before, the wound being closed was completely unexpected but this time I knew that the wound was closed based on what my visiting nurse had told me.
Based on the visiting nurse company's policy, I knew I would still have a few more nursing visits at my home just to make sure that everything continued to go well. It was a few days before my nurse was due to come that I started to get that weird feeling in my gut again. I wanted to believe that I was just being paranoid but I still asked my boyfriend to take a picture of it to show me. Moments after seeing the photograph, I was leaving my visiting nurse a voicemail.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
My Life, the Roller Coaster
I spent the next couple of days stressed out about my wound that had opened and stayed off of it as much as possible. When my nurse came back a couple of days later she said that it was doing very well and seemed to be closing on its own. While I was very happy to be hearing this news I tried to temper my excitement, because of the major let down of a few days before.
During the next couple of days I put myself on strict bed rest hoping that staying off of the wound would help. Two days later when my nurse came back to check on the wound's status she said, 'I am going to call that healed'. She also told me that I could start getting out of bed more often and could even shower over the weekend if I wanted to.
Although she did decide to cover the wound for the weekend it did not really need it. It was a couple of days later that I called my nurse to make sure she really thought that getting it wet was okay. She told me that I could shower, but that she wanted me to take the dressing off before I did. She also wanted me to check the dressing for drainage so I could tell her about it the next day. Admittedly, I was nervous about taking the dressing off and especially about checking for drainage. I didn't think that I would see any drainage but I was still hesitant to look. I knew that my nurse would need to know the information so I took a deep breath and looked at the dressing. I didn't see any drainage whatsoever! I proceeded to take my shower and then decided to stay up in my wheelchair for a little while.
The next morning when my nurse came back, I was a little nervous about what she would see. I explained to her I was nervous but that I hadn't seen drainage the day before so I was pretty sure that everything was still going well. When she looked at it she said that it was still closed and it was fine. My nurse was at that point more excited than I was. Although I was happy that it had survived the weekend I knew that it was still sensitive and so I was trying to temper my excitement. My nurse then asked me if she could come to my next appointment at the wound care center, so that she could meet the surgeon that seemed to have so much common sense. I had no problem with them meeting, so we arranged to meet at my appointment two days later.
During the next couple of days I put myself on strict bed rest hoping that staying off of the wound would help. Two days later when my nurse came back to check on the wound's status she said, 'I am going to call that healed'. She also told me that I could start getting out of bed more often and could even shower over the weekend if I wanted to.
Although she did decide to cover the wound for the weekend it did not really need it. It was a couple of days later that I called my nurse to make sure she really thought that getting it wet was okay. She told me that I could shower, but that she wanted me to take the dressing off before I did. She also wanted me to check the dressing for drainage so I could tell her about it the next day. Admittedly, I was nervous about taking the dressing off and especially about checking for drainage. I didn't think that I would see any drainage but I was still hesitant to look. I knew that my nurse would need to know the information so I took a deep breath and looked at the dressing. I didn't see any drainage whatsoever! I proceeded to take my shower and then decided to stay up in my wheelchair for a little while.
The next morning when my nurse came back, I was a little nervous about what she would see. I explained to her I was nervous but that I hadn't seen drainage the day before so I was pretty sure that everything was still going well. When she looked at it she said that it was still closed and it was fine. My nurse was at that point more excited than I was. Although I was happy that it had survived the weekend I knew that it was still sensitive and so I was trying to temper my excitement. My nurse then asked me if she could come to my next appointment at the wound care center, so that she could meet the surgeon that seemed to have so much common sense. I had no problem with them meeting, so we arranged to meet at my appointment two days later.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
My Gut Knows
As soon as my boyfriend and I got back from dinner I asked him to check the wound to see if it was okay. I also asked him to take a picture of it so that I could see it as well. When he saw it he said that it 'looked okay'. When he showed me the picture, my opinion was drastically different. Instead of seeing scar tissue as I had seen after my appointment with my surgeon, I saw that it had opened. It was not the entire wound that opened but the part that had was enough to completely freak me out.
My boyfriend tried to calm me down and get me to realize that the open part was very tiny and would most likely be okay soon. His saying that got him absolutely nowhere. I was already way too emotional to listen to reason. My boyfriend knows that when I am that upset, the best thing to do is to stop trying to get through to me because it isn't going to work anyway. He went home after suggesting that I try to go to sleep. I did attempt to sleep that night but was completely unsuccessful. I could not get myself to calm down in the least, regardless of the fact that I knew the visiting nurse that I completely trusted and had become very close with was going to come the following day.
She called me the next morning and was walking into my room about an hour after we hung up. When she came in she instantly said 'uh oh, what's wrong'? That was based on the look on my face. I explained to her the way I had felt at dinner and what I had seen in the pictures my boyfriend had taken. When she looked at the wound, she did not say a word. After knowing her for two and a half years, I had figured out that her being silent could not mean anything good. I asked her what had happened and she said that yes it was opened but that I shouldn't really freak out. We called and left a message for my surgeon to call her so that she could tell him what was going on. In the meantime she covered the wound with a dry dressing and told me that she would call me once she had spoken to my surgeon.
As promised, she called me back a few hours later to tell me what my surgeon said about the situation. She told me that he had said her covering it the way she did was absolutely fine and that I was still able to take showers. I was surprised he had said that I was able to do that being that it had apparently closed during the time I was asked to refrain from showering. My nurse went on to say that my surgeon was very calm about the whole thing and did not seem upset and that if he really thought something were wrong he would have asked me to keep it dry. Although, all she was saying made complete sense I had been seeing my surgeon for practically a year and had never seen him anything other than completely steady.
During the entire three years that I had the wound I had only gotten marginally upset about setbacks. This time was completely different. I think it was different because this setback came just after hearing the best news I had ever heard about the wound. I spent the next couple of days in bed not doing anything, including sleeping. I was entirely too upset to calm down and go to sleep. That made for a very long weekend, while I waited for my Monday nursing visit. When the nurse arrived she had already been brought up to speed on what had happened and how I was coping (I wasn't). She examined the wound and explained to me that it was really nothing to be that upset about. Shortly thereafter, she figured out that nothing she said was going to help so she showed me another photograph of the wound and then instead of just telling me measurements she actually showed me on a ruler just how small it was. At that point I realized that it was not nearly as much of a problem as I had feared it was.
My boyfriend tried to calm me down and get me to realize that the open part was very tiny and would most likely be okay soon. His saying that got him absolutely nowhere. I was already way too emotional to listen to reason. My boyfriend knows that when I am that upset, the best thing to do is to stop trying to get through to me because it isn't going to work anyway. He went home after suggesting that I try to go to sleep. I did attempt to sleep that night but was completely unsuccessful. I could not get myself to calm down in the least, regardless of the fact that I knew the visiting nurse that I completely trusted and had become very close with was going to come the following day.
She called me the next morning and was walking into my room about an hour after we hung up. When she came in she instantly said 'uh oh, what's wrong'? That was based on the look on my face. I explained to her the way I had felt at dinner and what I had seen in the pictures my boyfriend had taken. When she looked at the wound, she did not say a word. After knowing her for two and a half years, I had figured out that her being silent could not mean anything good. I asked her what had happened and she said that yes it was opened but that I shouldn't really freak out. We called and left a message for my surgeon to call her so that she could tell him what was going on. In the meantime she covered the wound with a dry dressing and told me that she would call me once she had spoken to my surgeon.
As promised, she called me back a few hours later to tell me what my surgeon said about the situation. She told me that he had said her covering it the way she did was absolutely fine and that I was still able to take showers. I was surprised he had said that I was able to do that being that it had apparently closed during the time I was asked to refrain from showering. My nurse went on to say that my surgeon was very calm about the whole thing and did not seem upset and that if he really thought something were wrong he would have asked me to keep it dry. Although, all she was saying made complete sense I had been seeing my surgeon for practically a year and had never seen him anything other than completely steady.
During the entire three years that I had the wound I had only gotten marginally upset about setbacks. This time was completely different. I think it was different because this setback came just after hearing the best news I had ever heard about the wound. I spent the next couple of days in bed not doing anything, including sleeping. I was entirely too upset to calm down and go to sleep. That made for a very long weekend, while I waited for my Monday nursing visit. When the nurse arrived she had already been brought up to speed on what had happened and how I was coping (I wasn't). She examined the wound and explained to me that it was really nothing to be that upset about. Shortly thereafter, she figured out that nothing she said was going to help so she showed me another photograph of the wound and then instead of just telling me measurements she actually showed me on a ruler just how small it was. At that point I realized that it was not nearly as much of a problem as I had feared it was.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Is This The End?
The two weeks I spent waiting to see my surgeon were stressful but only because I was nervous. My visiting nurses kept saying that the wound was doing very well. While, I was very happy with what my nurses were saying I still wanted to hear it from my surgeon directly.
Finally, the day of my appointment arrived and I was in an incredibly good mood. I figured that I would give positive thinking a shot. When my surgeon came in the room and examined the wound he was super happy with what he saw. He then explained to me that it had no more depth and that it was basically done. That moment was sort of surreal, here I was in an exam room exactly three years and one month after the wound was first discovered and I was finally being told that I could shower whenever I wanted, instead of only right before nursing visits and, that we could start thinking about ending the nursing visits all together. While I was so incredibly happy to hear this news it did catch me off guard. While my nurses had been saying very good things they had not said that it was closed at the prior visit, just three days before the appointment with my surgeon. My surgeon said that I could go home and shower right then if I actually wanted to but that I should come back in two or three weeks so that he could make sure things were still going well. I made a follow-up appointment with him for two weeks later and left in the best mood ever.
I was able to hold it together just until my boyfriend and I got to the car, that is when I lost it and three years of tears started to flow. As soon as I got in the car I grabbed my cell phone so I could begin to tell those people that had been the most supportive through the entire ordeal that we could all breathe enormous sighs of relief. The two people that I knew without a doubt needed to be told in person were my parents. So after a quick stop to get coffee and snacks for everyone, my boyfriend and I went to my house to share the good news. When my parents first saw me crying, they initially thought that things had gone very wrong, until a big goofy grin appeared on my face. Soon, I was not the only one in tears.
I spent the rest of that day and the next day laying low and not really doing much of anything. Mostly, because I was not used to being able to do much and also because I was sort of nervous that it had just filled in, was left uncovered for the first time and that it was still probably going to be sensitive. After doing hardly anything for the day and a half following my appointment, I was ready to get up and go do something. My boyfriend and I talked it over and decided that we would go out to dinner. I got ready to go and for one of only a handful of times in the past three years, I was wearing jeans!
I was trying to enjoy one of my first times out that was not due to a special occasion, but I was sort of nervous that it was too soon. My boyfriend kept trying to assure me that I was okay and I believed him, until my gut said otherwise. All of a sudden I got a very creepy feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. This was not based on feeling any drainage or anything more than a little discomfort, it was just a huge knot in my stomach that would not go away. Again, my boyfriend tried to assure me that things were fine and while I wanted to believe him, he is not in my gut, feeling the way I felt. As we were leaving the restaurant, he assured me that he would check the wound when we got home.
Finally, the day of my appointment arrived and I was in an incredibly good mood. I figured that I would give positive thinking a shot. When my surgeon came in the room and examined the wound he was super happy with what he saw. He then explained to me that it had no more depth and that it was basically done. That moment was sort of surreal, here I was in an exam room exactly three years and one month after the wound was first discovered and I was finally being told that I could shower whenever I wanted, instead of only right before nursing visits and, that we could start thinking about ending the nursing visits all together. While I was so incredibly happy to hear this news it did catch me off guard. While my nurses had been saying very good things they had not said that it was closed at the prior visit, just three days before the appointment with my surgeon. My surgeon said that I could go home and shower right then if I actually wanted to but that I should come back in two or three weeks so that he could make sure things were still going well. I made a follow-up appointment with him for two weeks later and left in the best mood ever.
I was able to hold it together just until my boyfriend and I got to the car, that is when I lost it and three years of tears started to flow. As soon as I got in the car I grabbed my cell phone so I could begin to tell those people that had been the most supportive through the entire ordeal that we could all breathe enormous sighs of relief. The two people that I knew without a doubt needed to be told in person were my parents. So after a quick stop to get coffee and snacks for everyone, my boyfriend and I went to my house to share the good news. When my parents first saw me crying, they initially thought that things had gone very wrong, until a big goofy grin appeared on my face. Soon, I was not the only one in tears.
I spent the rest of that day and the next day laying low and not really doing much of anything. Mostly, because I was not used to being able to do much and also because I was sort of nervous that it had just filled in, was left uncovered for the first time and that it was still probably going to be sensitive. After doing hardly anything for the day and a half following my appointment, I was ready to get up and go do something. My boyfriend and I talked it over and decided that we would go out to dinner. I got ready to go and for one of only a handful of times in the past three years, I was wearing jeans!
I was trying to enjoy one of my first times out that was not due to a special occasion, but I was sort of nervous that it was too soon. My boyfriend kept trying to assure me that I was okay and I believed him, until my gut said otherwise. All of a sudden I got a very creepy feeling in my gut that something wasn't right. This was not based on feeling any drainage or anything more than a little discomfort, it was just a huge knot in my stomach that would not go away. Again, my boyfriend tried to assure me that things were fine and while I wanted to believe him, he is not in my gut, feeling the way I felt. As we were leaving the restaurant, he assured me that he would check the wound when we got home.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Making Progress?
When my nurse saw that the stitches were loosening, I was already reaching for my phone to get in touch with my surgeon before she even had a chance to say that it did not look like anything bad was happening. I called him and explained that while there was no drainage, the stitches were very loose and did not seem to be holding the wound closed anymore. My surgeon said that my nurse should just cover it with a dry dressing and that I should just come to my regular appointment that was scheduled for two days later. Waiting, did not feel like something I was willing to do so I called the wound care center and made arrangements to see him first thing the following morning.
Aside from being worried about the wound in general, the other reason I wanted to see him the next day was because he had previously said that I could go out that evening. I wanted to make sure that being up for several hours was not going to cause any major problems. When he examined the wound he decided to remove the stitches. When he took them out he explained to me that while the edges were not yet closed it was very small and that I could still go out that evening. I was very happy that he said I was still able to go, I just hoped that I would be able to forget about things for a few hours and enjoy myself. I did decide to go on with my plans, though at first I was very much distracted by the sutures not having fully done their job.
I saw the surgeon again the following week and he was incredibly pleased with how the wound looked. He said, that it was doing everything correctly and showed no signs of anything going wrong. I was thrilled to hear that it was now being referred to as very small and not very deep at all. The surgeon was going to be away from the wound care center the following week, so while I was nervous about skipping a week there was nothing I could do about it so I made an appointment for two weeks later.
Although, I knew that everyone was pleased with the way my wound was progressing I could not get a pattern out of my head. It seems crazy, but of the five times that my surgeon had said surgery was needed at least three of them were decided after having skipped over a week or two. Therefore, I was rather on edge while I waited for my next appointment.
Aside from being worried about the wound in general, the other reason I wanted to see him the next day was because he had previously said that I could go out that evening. I wanted to make sure that being up for several hours was not going to cause any major problems. When he examined the wound he decided to remove the stitches. When he took them out he explained to me that while the edges were not yet closed it was very small and that I could still go out that evening. I was very happy that he said I was still able to go, I just hoped that I would be able to forget about things for a few hours and enjoy myself. I did decide to go on with my plans, though at first I was very much distracted by the sutures not having fully done their job.
I saw the surgeon again the following week and he was incredibly pleased with how the wound looked. He said, that it was doing everything correctly and showed no signs of anything going wrong. I was thrilled to hear that it was now being referred to as very small and not very deep at all. The surgeon was going to be away from the wound care center the following week, so while I was nervous about skipping a week there was nothing I could do about it so I made an appointment for two weeks later.
Although, I knew that everyone was pleased with the way my wound was progressing I could not get a pattern out of my head. It seems crazy, but of the five times that my surgeon had said surgery was needed at least three of them were decided after having skipped over a week or two. Therefore, I was rather on edge while I waited for my next appointment.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
A New Idea
A few days after my appointment with the surgeon someone from his office called me to set up the surgery. It was scheduled for only one week later. The morning of the surgery I woke up in an incredibly good mood considering that just a few hours later I would be laying on an operating table. When I got to the hospital, I met with my surgeon who explained to me what his game plan was going to be. He was first going to get rid of all non-viable tissue, including a small portion of the bone. Then he was going to place antibiotic seeds inside the wound cavity. His entire plan up till that point was very familiar to me being that he had done all of that previously. He then explained, that he was going to use something called GraftJacket inside the wound. Then he hopefully would just be able to suture the edges together.
GraftJacket is made of human dermal (skin) tissue components. Its purpose is as a repair matrix that will then rapidly be converted to the patient's own tissue by quickly renewing blood, cellular and nutrient activity throughout the matrix. Over time, the tissue graft aids in the repair of the wound and is replaced by tissue like the patient's own. As he explained it to me it would ideally help to fill in the tunnel of my wound.
All of this sounded like it was a good plan and again I went into the operating room with no hesitation in the least. The surgery happened exactly as the surgeon had planned for it to go and approximately an hour later I was being wheeled into the recovery room, aware of everything that had gone on and having heard, that at least for the meantime the wound was sutured closed. I was at home feeling very well within just a couple hours of the end of the surgery. When I got home, I called my nurse, just like I had said I would do and told her what the surgeon had done and what the following visits wound care orders were. All the surgeon wanted done was for the dressing to be looked at and if it was still intact and clean that it was to be left alone. The nurse came two days after the surgery for all of five minutes, the dressing was clean and dry so she did not change it. That was totally fine with me, although it did end up being changed the next day because it had gotten soiled. When the nurse changed the dressing she said that it looked great and that everything seemed to be fine. I was so incredibly happy to hear that, yet I was still trying to remain only cautiously optimistic.
Six days after the surgery, I was back at my regular wound care appointment so that my surgeon could make sure that everything was healing nicely. He said that it looked great but that he wanted to leave the stitches in place for another week, just to give it more time. By then I didn't really care what he said had to be done or not be done, I was just incredibly glad that things seemed to be looking in such a positive direction.
Things were going really well and I was doing my best to stay off of the wound as much as possible, as a matter of fact I had only been up on it to ride home from the surgery itself and to go to and from that wound care appointment. That was actually harder to do than it had been in the past, just because I felt so incredibly well. I was determined that I was not going to sabotage the healing process so I did not get up unless it was absolutely necessary.
As sometimes happens, just as things seem to be going really well, WHAM you get smacked upside the head with a dose of reality. My reality came about twelve days post-op, when I woke up very early in the morning with this weird emotional 'something isn't right' feeling. While I was worried I already knew that my visiting nurse was going to be arriving at my house within a few hours. Before I had even fully explained to her how I thought things were going, she had taken off the dressing and was making an 'uhoh' sound. It turns out that the stitches were pulling and didn't seem to be holding the wound closed. To take a quote from Yogi Berra, 'this was like deja vu all over again'.
GraftJacket is made of human dermal (skin) tissue components. Its purpose is as a repair matrix that will then rapidly be converted to the patient's own tissue by quickly renewing blood, cellular and nutrient activity throughout the matrix. Over time, the tissue graft aids in the repair of the wound and is replaced by tissue like the patient's own. As he explained it to me it would ideally help to fill in the tunnel of my wound.
All of this sounded like it was a good plan and again I went into the operating room with no hesitation in the least. The surgery happened exactly as the surgeon had planned for it to go and approximately an hour later I was being wheeled into the recovery room, aware of everything that had gone on and having heard, that at least for the meantime the wound was sutured closed. I was at home feeling very well within just a couple hours of the end of the surgery. When I got home, I called my nurse, just like I had said I would do and told her what the surgeon had done and what the following visits wound care orders were. All the surgeon wanted done was for the dressing to be looked at and if it was still intact and clean that it was to be left alone. The nurse came two days after the surgery for all of five minutes, the dressing was clean and dry so she did not change it. That was totally fine with me, although it did end up being changed the next day because it had gotten soiled. When the nurse changed the dressing she said that it looked great and that everything seemed to be fine. I was so incredibly happy to hear that, yet I was still trying to remain only cautiously optimistic.
Six days after the surgery, I was back at my regular wound care appointment so that my surgeon could make sure that everything was healing nicely. He said that it looked great but that he wanted to leave the stitches in place for another week, just to give it more time. By then I didn't really care what he said had to be done or not be done, I was just incredibly glad that things seemed to be looking in such a positive direction.
Things were going really well and I was doing my best to stay off of the wound as much as possible, as a matter of fact I had only been up on it to ride home from the surgery itself and to go to and from that wound care appointment. That was actually harder to do than it had been in the past, just because I felt so incredibly well. I was determined that I was not going to sabotage the healing process so I did not get up unless it was absolutely necessary.
As sometimes happens, just as things seem to be going really well, WHAM you get smacked upside the head with a dose of reality. My reality came about twelve days post-op, when I woke up very early in the morning with this weird emotional 'something isn't right' feeling. While I was worried I already knew that my visiting nurse was going to be arriving at my house within a few hours. Before I had even fully explained to her how I thought things were going, she had taken off the dressing and was making an 'uhoh' sound. It turns out that the stitches were pulling and didn't seem to be holding the wound closed. To take a quote from Yogi Berra, 'this was like deja vu all over again'.
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