Monday, April 20, 2009

What's the Story, Morning Glory?

Well, do I have one for you. I have never been what one would call thin. Not trim, not fit, and I surpassed thick, chunky, and chubby a long, loooooooong time ago. I have been on diets since I was at least ten years old, bought exercise equipment and programs since I had my first job and credit card - belonged to gyms, participated in martial arts, taken over-the-counter diet "supplements" and been prescribed weight-loss medications for more than half of my not-so-long 28 (almost 29) years. I have suffered and live with stretch marks, ostracism, heart palpitations, vomiting (no, not bulimia but adverse drug reactions) all from being fat and in the effort to become thin. To be normal. To be like the other kids. To be the feminine ideal we are all supposed to see on the covers of Marie Claire or Cosmo and try desperately and unsuccessfully to obtain.

My latest effort? On February 23rd, 2009, I was admitted into a local hospital and I had my physiology permanently and irrevocably changed. I went through the Roux-En-Y Gastric Bypass surgery. I had one of the best surgeons, one of the best programs and facilities in Northern Virginia for my safety blanket.

The surgery went great. Everything seemed fine. The doctor was pleased. I was in pain and exhausted but excited to start this new phase of my life.

Then, two weeks later, the pain started. I went to bed just two days after my post-op appointment with a twinge of pain in my back. I thought nothing of it as, due to my weight, I get back aches a lot. The pain from the surgery was finally subsiding and I decided to go to bed early that night, not wanting to aggrevate my back or my stomach. The next morning I was awoken by the most extraordinary and blindingly brilliant pain I have ever felt in my life.

I couldn't breath. I could barely move. I reached for the still half-full bottle of liquid vicodin I had been sent home with, my hands shaking as I poured myself a tablespoon. It controlled the pain enough for me to get upstairs and call my surgeon's office. I was called back a short while later by the on-call doctor who told me if the pain didn't go away to go to the emergency room of the hospital where I'd had my procedure.

The next morning, after a night steeped in the last of my vicodin, I decided I HAD to go to the hospital. This is where the nightmare of my two weeks of hell in Inova Fair Oaks Hospital's Telemetry ward began. March 8th I was admitted into the emergency room. When they finally got around to calling my name, I was treated as unimportant. I am 28. Two weeks post-op from major surgery. I am walking (BARELY) into the emergency room unable to breath and with major chest pain. The nurse taking my information first violates HIPPA by speaking in front of me about another patient by his name. And frankly, call me a cold bitch if you want but a slightly weezing teenager wasn't worrying me. Then I am scanned, poked, prodded, tested and retested all in an effort to try and figure out what is wrong with me.

After hours in the emergency room with no answers I am admitted into the hospital's Telemetry ward. I am asked, repeatedly, who my surgeon is and who my primary care physician is. For three days I am sent all over the hospital, test after terrifying test performed with no explanation of the purpose or result. Everyday I am asked if I have seen my surgeon or heard from my doctor. Everyday I say no. Finally, wondering if my surgeon had been informed, I called his office myself. NO ONE HAD CALLED THEM. They were shocked to hear I had been re-admitted.

Later that evening, while my father is visiting and telling me how he called my also uninformed primary doctor, my surgeon storms into the room, looking terribly concerned and far from pleased. Now, I had been told the problem (and they made it sound like the only problem) was pancreatitis - inflammation of the pancreas and the only real cure for it is time and rest. My surgeon checked the first (of an eventual five) CT scans. He is the only one that sees an absess. An absess that is causing a major infection that has my temperature spiking above 105 degrees. This has caused pnuemonia and what is called a pleural effusion. So I had liquid both inside and building up around the outside of my left lung. My lung partially collapsed. Let's count that off, shall we?

1. Pancreatitis
2. An absess
3. Pleural effusion
4. Pneumonia
5. A partially collapsed lung

Five. I had five major and painful complications ALL AT THE SAME TIME! I spent the next 5 days trying to be as good a patient as possible. Trying not to complain. I got to watch as my 95 year-old roommate would be left in her bed after she soiled herself, left on the commode or in the bathroom for half an hour or 45 minutes and she would bang over and over on her nurses call button, crying out for help. I would start pressing my call button and it still took forever for anyone to respond. One time her catheter bag was left to collect for so long it burst and spilled urine all over the floor. She was left without food for almost an entire day. I nearly freezed the poor woman out because after asking for a fan for days because I felt like I was melting (105 degree fever will do that to you) I finally gave up and formally requested engineering to lower the temperature in the room. One of my roommate's nurses finally noticed and she had the termperature raised. It was still days before I got my fan.

They took me to drain the fluid from around my lung but it built back up so they inserted a chest tube. As they figured I would be in the hospital for a while longer they inserted a semi-permanent IV line that led to the major vein into my heart. After these two quite uncomfortable insertions, I was moved out of the telelmetry ward and up to the surgical ward by order of my now deeply involved surgeon. I was relieved. Ecstatic. I was out of a ward where I wasn't being properly cared for, where 75% or more of my nurses were sweet but incompetent, where I was, quite literally, afraid for my life.

That night, with my body weak and having been put through so much trauma, my heart decided it had been too much. My heartrate spiked above 220 beats per minute and I was in immenent danger of having a heart attack.  I was moved back to telemetry but only after I shouted at the over-night doctor who told me it was too bad, that she had to move me. Only after I told the Director of Nurses why I was so adamant about not returning to the ward that had already scared me half to death. I was promised I would be moved back to the surgical ward after my heart rate returned to normal. I was lied to.

For the next week, I tried to be cooperative but I received so many conflicting messages. Doctors wanted me to walk around the ward but my chest tube receptical was strapped to the floor and every time I left the bed people came running because my heart rate increased. I couldn't even rest at night because it seemed every hour some one was coming in to poke me or prod me or prick me or take blood for yet more tests. I finally decided I had had enough.

Thursday, March 19th I started telling the doctors and nurses I wanted to go home. I was done. I was unhappy. I was stressed out more by staying in the hospital that the hospital was helping. They began weening me off of medicines and tried to get me to start eating again after more than a week of not eating, period. Not as in I was barely sipping broth. No, I was ordered nothing by mouth. I could have sponges dipped in water to moisten my mouth but that was it for a long time. Friday and Saturday I started to cry.

I was so unhappy and so depressed. It didn't matter if anyone was in the room with me or not, if I was on the phone with friends or relatives or sitting quietly by myself. I cried constantly. I haden't had a shower in two weeks. I'm sure I smelled though no one had the heart to tell me. I begged and my parents demanded until a nurse finally brought me bathing supplies, covered my IV in plastic and I finally got to bathe.

Saturday I told them I wanted to go home. Immediately. I started screaming! I just wanted to go home! The doctor obstensibly in charge of my care asked me to wait for a GI doctor to come and see me. I reluctantly agreed. On Sunday I waited all day for the GI to come. The creep left the hospital without even sticking his nose into the room. He was ordered to do a consult but said that since he wasn't the doctor who had seen me earlier in my stay that he didn't want to see me. I was visited by entire practices but this ass was special?!?!?! I told my nurse to get the doctor on the phone. I wanted to be discharged. I told her to tell him that if he wouldn't release me without the GI jackass's report that I would sign AMA or against medical advice forms and discharge myself. The doctor agreed to release me and, after a wasted Sunday, I was released on the 22nd.

I will never forgive the hospital for what I went through. I am still considering talking to a lawyer regarding negligence on behalf of the hospital, the doctors and the nurses. I could have died 3 times and if it weren't for ME calling my surgeon, I may well have.

I suppose the moral of the story is I don't know if I would recommend getting the surgery. Not just at that hospital because I had the best surgeon but my experience afterward was a nightmare. I can't, right now, say I would tell anyone to get this surgery. And that, with gastric by-pass's life-saving possibilities, is very sad in my opinion.

Sunday, June 29, 2008
Maybe Too Much at Once?

On occasion, I try to do too many things at one time. Often it is shop – my bank account begins to wheeze and then I’m stuck until next pay day. Oh well, good thing I like soup, haha. This isn’t my current problem. Well, it is A current problem, but not my primary one.

No, my current problem is juggling work, school, writing, friends, and family. All I can say is thank goodness I am not yet married and don’t have children yet. If I did, I might drop dead. All too often I am not going to sleep until 2 or 3 in the morning and it is starting to catch up to me.  I’d take a break except Financial Aid is funny about that and may cut you off, I have only so many vacation days left, I love writing, and I want to finish my degree so bad I can taste it. So, yes, family and friends have taken the majority of the loss of my time. I can only hope they know how much I love them.

Thursday, January 3, 2008
I Love the Holidays!

Now, I know what you’re thinking – the holidays are over, S.J. Not for me. I took two whole weeks off from my day job and I am SOOOO happy for it. I know I won’t want to go back come next Monday, but I never want to go back, so what’s the difference? Haha.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday. My Christmas and New Years was very nice. I got some great gifts and I love them all. I’m saving the latest installment of Pirates of the Caribbean for this Sunday, giving myself an extra little boost before going back to work.

I’m unfortunately still working on Courting Caressa but it is coming along. Mostly all I’m doing now is fleshing out the story a little. I’m also working on something else. This project is on the down-low. I’m keeping it hush-hush because it is an attempt in a new sub-genre for me and I don’t want to get my hopes up.

So, back to some uninterrupted writing for me!

Saturday, December 8, 2007
What’s Happenin’?

Let’s see…. Lately, I have been a little restless. This can be good for my writing as sometimes restlessness gives me the surge of energy I need to write. Sometimes. Usually, restlessness makes it impossible for me to write. I will sit here and look at the screen and nothing will come. I’ve been trying to get past that and last weekend I actually finished Courting Caressa. Unless my editor comes back and tells me to rewrite it because it is tripe. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

In my day to day life I tried for a promotion at work. I didn’t get it but I was told to keep trying when such positions open in the future. I knew I wasn’t going to get the job but I had really been hoping I would by the time the decision had been made. Oh well. There’s always next time, whenever next time will be.

I am thrilled it is Christmas time. Can’t you tell? Haha. I love this time of year. While people can always be dorks, it seems they are less so this time of year. People are more likely to say hi, be nicer, be better. It seems so silly. It’s just another day in the 365.25 we live in a year, another week in the 52 we go through, but it’s true. People are just better to each other this time of year.

So, my holiday wish for everyone is to love each other, be healthy, grow wealthy, and forgive the sins of the past.

All my love,

S.J.

Saturday, October 13, 2007
Everything

No one has ever accused me of being consistent, or timely, or organized. It's been QUITE some time since I have made any updates to my web page and I feel horrible about that. Bad S.J.

So, the first weekend in October I went to New Jersey. I know,I know, why the hell would I go to NJ. Well, for one thing, I grew up there. So I go back to visit family when I can. For another, I was attending the New Jersey Romance Writers' Put Your Heart in a Book Conference.

It was a lot of fun! I got to meet my friends Veronica Towers, Pamela Seres, and Izzy in person for the first time, as well as a great friend of Pam and Izzy's, Jen who is very nice. I also met a few of our Dark Lords - Christian Pullano (completely adorable new cover model, everything about him is adorable from the New England accent to the blinding smile), Bill Freda, and Jason Santiago. They were all wonderful! I miss everyone already and I said goodbye to most of them just last Sunday.

The two writers who invited us weren't really around much. They didn't say much to me, and, in all honesty, I felt a little snubbed. We also had kind of crappy placement at the book fair. I didn't expect to be seated right next to Sherrilynn Kenyon (Yes, THE Sherrilynn Kenyon, and I got her autograph!), but I was hoping for something better than to be tucked away into a dark corner. Oh well.

We were supposed to go to a party in NYC on Saturday night. All I'll say is I am never following Pam anywhere ever again. Yes, I drove in NYC. Yes, I've learned my lesson.

That's about it for now. I am working on Courting Caressa and hope to have it ready in time for Christmas. I have a story in the upcoming 2 part Christmas Antho. I am also working on a story for what I am assuming is a tip-top secret antho coming out in time for next year's RT convention.

So, until I have more to say (which, at the rate I'm going, will be next March) I bid everyone much love and happy reading!

Saturday, May 19, 2007
Writer's Block

It makes me want to cry. I will type and type and type... myself into a corner. It never fails. I want so badly to finish a story and for 4 or 5 pages I seem to do so well, then one innocent little sentence will knock my progress on its ass! And I almost never want to delete that sentence because I think it is so good that the story needs it. Ugh, that sounds pretentious. But I have to keep pushing myself, I have to work past it, even if it means writing complete and utter nonsense until I beat writer's block into submission.

(I just wish it would give me a flippin' break!)