Fleet and the Scope

I had heard that Fleet burns when used inside a pouch: I was able to confirm that last evening, as I blasted 3.5 oz of battery acid (okay, just saline laxative) into my pouch. It sort of sucked going in, but it felt like it was power washing my canal on the way out. Thankfully, a mouthful of towel was able to suppress the screaming curse words that were being projected at rapid fire in the bathroom. I need to mention that to the nurse that said "We've never heard it burns, but I'm sure you'll let us know." Yes, I will let you know.

I think the most important realizations I've had during this journey have occurred at odd times. For instance, you can get a whole new perspective on the world while on your knees on your bathroom floor with your head on a towel and a plastic bottle stuck in your rectum. (I'm not saying to use this to replace your downward facing dog yoga position, just that I happened to be there.] Last night, my thoughts went again to a woman I had met just before my surgery who had recently suffered a horrible rock climbing accident. She was miles from home and miles from family and all alone at a local hospital. We spoke a few times, just to help pass the time and offer what we could.

She had broken her leg, her pelvis, her other arm (thus ruling out crutches) and a few other bits and pieces along the way. She had undergone many surgeries (more to come) and was in between jobs and without medical insurance. She was always upbeat and cheery: She always had a laugh and a smile to share and was able to find the bright spot in any conversation. Every time I hung up the phone, I would think to myself, now there is a hero: There is someone who truly meets it head on and takes control of a situation. Of course, there are ups and downs, but a steadfast rock and someone who truly has a more difficult situation than I. If she doesn't complain, what right do I have? She called me last week, to see how "I" was healing. Even in her state, she still took the time to check up on me.

Thinking about this allowed me to formulate other "what did I learn" points:
- If you think you would rather trade your problems with someone else, you need to reevaluate what problems you really have: You have no idea how someone else has it or with what they have to deal.
- Don't let your "bad" days outnumber your "good" days. If they do, you're focusing on the wrong material. If you only have wrong material, you need to get different material.
- Dedicate energy to the positive. The negatives are just energy sinks: They serve no purpose other than wasting what energy you and those around you have.
- Spread the positive. That person you want to give a piece of your mind may have just had the worst day of their life: Offer something positive to pay it forward, or don't offer anything at all.
- You are not the most important person in the room: Just another that is there. [To that end, is there really any "most important" person in the room. If so, who is defining what criteria and who is voting?]

The scope was scheduled for 7:30 this morning, so we were up at 4 AM this morning to get to the hospital in time. I'm not sure what anesthetic they used, but I typically get to fight the way out (and of course, enjoy the ride), but it was like someone hit a light switch (drag.) I didn't awake for another 1.5 hours, so have no idea how long the scope was and faded in and out of consciousness for the next hour. Hospitals these days are not allowing children under 17 in many locations due to H1N1, so the family was removed for the entire morning. I spent my time trying to keep the nurses and doctors entertained.

The doctor noted that he could do a more thorough scope while under anesthesia (me that is) and was able to check out the pouch in detail. He said I had a "roaring case of pouchitis". [Yes, like a lion.] Pouchitis is just inflammation of the internal pouch which can occur for many reasons, but notably it's the pouch not happy about the job that it now has to do. He was unsure how it got out of hand so quickly and this quickly after surgery, but we're taking one step at a time and get this resolved to see if it's going to be a recurring theme. He changed up some meds and gave me some steroids (of course, not the pill kind, but the bathroom floor kind.) Hopefully, in the next two weeks, we will be able to kick this. (Which would be great, as the holidays are right around the corner.)

He also mentioned a "bubble" portion of the pouch that exists near the exit. He's not sure if that's causing any issues, but something we'll keep an eye on. [He mentioned a specific word but with cloudy head, I no longer remember it.]

Off we go, so let's see how the next week pans out.