Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label surgery. Show all posts

Friday, August 27, 2010

it's outrageous and insane these crazy prices in PORT of Spain

Home from an uneventful port surgery. Uneventful as in everything went as planned, no snafus.

I had my surgery at the Allied Physician surgery center in town of which my step mom is a share owner and practices at frequently. She had recommended both the surgeon and anesthesiologist to me and was present in scrubs during my surgery. While I was in the waiting room before she arrived I had been watching one of the nurses, or nurses aides maybe, an older, heavy set lady who seemed none to happy to be there. She had called two patients back before me without much of smile or personality at all, she even seemed a little annoyed about it. I'd thought to myself that I hoped she wasn't my nurse. My step mom arrived shortly after and the I was called back by, lo and behold, grump lady. Except suddenly she wasn't grumpy anymore - quite chipper and soooo happy to see me. I told my step mom she was going to have to come with me to all my medical stuff. lol.

Anyway. From there I had a vanc drip hooked up and I opted to go ahead and get the general. I was told it was my choice, i could do the conscious sedation or twilight or whatever it was called or just go under and I decided I wanted to be aware of nothing. So I got a beautiful combo of versed and fentanyl (how pleasant that was!) and then I was out.

I woke very confused and was told that I kept asking where my daughter was and was afraid I had left her home alone.

I got a pediatric sized "smart port" which can be used for draws and contrast as well as meds, slightly above my right breast.

and that was all they wrote.

I have to say that post op fentanyl wasn't cutting it for me, which is wierd. they offered me demerol, but I declined that opting for more fent. After 150mg of fent and 10mg of percocet I felt pretty good. Tolerance, maybe? I dunno.

Now I am slightly tender. It hurts a bit to bend over or raise my arm up but just chilling out (or typing this) is OK. The worst is my throat. My throat is on fire and despite all the narcotics, I just can't shake it. I think throat pain is one of the worst types of pain and i have little tolerance for it. But...whatcha gonna do?

So, all in all things went well and despite my uncertainty in the wee hours of last night's morning I feel glad that i did this. The port is quite small and I think it will be pretty unnoticable. I look forward to the ease it should give me with meds. I think it will help my compliance with getting IVs when IVs are the best thing. At least that was my intention.

So, I present to you my ported up chest.



Saturday, August 7, 2010

walk a mile in my shoes

Long over due for a post, c'est vrai.

so, here is the skinny. some Cf related, some not.

I had clinic back in July and that was uneventful. I think my FEV1 was in the upper 60s, so pretty much normal. I had a great colistin month in July where it actually seemed to be working. Some months it doesn't seem like it does much, but I felt pretty good in July. Now it is August 7th (my anniversay, no less - 6 years!) and I am already back to camo green wads. go figure.

I also had my consult for my port surgery (which really was sort of a waste of my time). My main concerns were placement and the fact that if my PICCS are not placed properly in my atrium (right?) I can ~feel~ them - this is hard to explain if you haven't felt a PICC from the inside, but it is a quite uncomfortable feeling. I've had to have them repositioned each time I've had them, so I didn't want to have to undergo port surgery twice if it wasn't place correctly the first time. But really, the doc was all like, "Ok, I'll leave it shallow, just remind me the day of the surgery." Okey doke doc.

He also told me to wear a tank top that day, a more "revealing" one to place the port in an area a little less conspicuous. I didn't have the balls to ask if he would make my incision in the shape of an S or a star or something, but I am going to, the day of the surgery. My step mom, who is also a surgeon, looked at me like I'd grown a third eye when I asked her if she would do that for a patient, so I am not holding out a lot of hope.

Also, the dude says he wants to use a general when I get it rather than twilight me. My step mom said that this doesn't mean a vent, but that I will have some doodad half way down my throat to hold my tongue in pace or some business. I am going to call the doc back and ask about all this. she thought maybe he was worried about my breathing during the surgery - but why a general would make this a BETTER option, I dunno. I want to reveal: hey, yo, doc, I am not a narc virgin, you can HOOK IT UP and I will be just fine. But I keep that bidnez to muhself.

Ok, then the other big thang in my life is disability.

I came to the conclusion that I cannot go back to teaching. at least not full time, and not children. My main reasons for this are:

1)I got sick a lot when I taught and my susceptibilities to abx are getting fewer and farer between and so I don't want to end up on IVS all the time and then having to juggle that with school and kids etc.

2) when I taught I didn't do treatments. I know there are plenty of people who can handle this, but I can't handle treatments, kids, housework and work work - something would give and we all know it would be a treatment.

3) I do qualify based on one of the three qualifications, so why the hell not try? The government says I am sick enough, so I thought I needed to get over it. with out the added stress of worrying about it all (money, esp)and trying to juggle odd jobs all the time (babysitting - not a health beacon job), I might be able to take even better care of my health.

But I did/do have some guilt as I know a lot of people a lot sicker who worked a lot longer under just as trying circumstances. and I have always prided myself on being a rather tough cookie, so some part of me thinks i am copping out or giving in.

and then, I had my first encounter with bias about it.

My son has a friend whose mother is trying to get disability. She was in an accident years ago and has a fused spine and some screws in her hips and stuff and so she is in a lot of pain daily. She has been waiting for a very long time for disability and is now working on getting a hearing.

I mentioned to her that I was hoping to get my case handled by the one of the advocacy groups available and told her about how things worked for CF patients as far as what was offered for help for us in getting disability.

She said, "you're so lucky. I'll trade you." uh huh. yeah. I have no doubt that her situation is miserable and there is no real "cure" for her pain; that it might seem unfair that I look relatively healthy and have groups available to help with my SSDI application - but it was a pretty insensitive thing to say. So I was like, "yeah, sure, any time you want a fatal lung disease with a life expectancy of 37.5, you let me know."

but then she went on about how she knew some people with CP who were "fine" and could work but didn't "just because they had cerebal palsy." holy fuck cat, come on. I realized a big thing.

If I go on disability I will probably have to tell people occasionally that I am disabled and therefore have to deal with this whole "you don't look sick" bologna, which I haven't gotten a lot of because I haven't been "sick" or aligned myself as a sick person. so I have to be prepared to reframe myself a little bit lest I get these kinds of comments. and that people will think I am milking the system or copping out or what have you.

I want to invite the non-Cf world to spend a day or three with me just to understand that I don't seem sick because I work hard not to. and even when I wasn't working hard to stay well, back before I was compliant, I was working doubley hard to hide my illness.

So today when I hacked up an olive from my lungs and panted up the basement stairs I wanted to call old girl up and say, "wanna trade now?"

Friday, March 6, 2009

Life right now is a bit of a medical cluster fuck.

I lost my secondary insurance because my husband made too much money last year. This means that the Colisitn I was just prescribed is going to cost us $400 a month -which clearly means that I am not oging to be using it anymore.

The ENT wants to do balloon sinuplasty on my head. and fix my septum. His cost alone is $13,000 - from that, I gather, the whole deal will cost us $2000 before insurance kicks in. That might not be that big of a deal off hand, but I have got to get a job and until I do we really are living pay check to paycheck with not another $50-$100 a month to be paying off a $2000 medical bill.

So, it all sucks.

And my family is all pressuring me, "you HAVE to do this surgery..." and it's like, no, I don't. I probably should, but I don't HAVE to do a goddamn thing.

So it looks like I'm back to teaching this fall, if I can get a job, so that I can get insurance. The school corp here has GREAT insurance, and if we have both then we'll be fine. But that is still 6 months from now...so I dunno. Plus, really, I was hoping ot be able to use this master's degree of mine to teach as an adjunct somewhere - but that won't give me insurance, so for now that is all on hold and it's back to the little snotheads.

I am pretty open about financial stuff, I mean, it's just money, and I see no real reason to hide when I have it or when I don't, though I know I have been making my family uncomfortable talking about not having any right now. The thing is, I think that money always seems to come and go in cycles, so while it' s slim pickings right now, it will come around again.

So right now I am pretty pissy with the whole effing thing, dealing with insurance and money and blady blady blah.


so, as I always say:
moneyisnotrealmoneyisnotrealmoneyisnotrealmoneyisnotrealmoneyisnotrealmoneyisnotrealmoneyisnotreal