My room which I also shared (for 4 days out of the 10) with a nice lady from Como.
Yesterday marked the 3rd week since laparoscopic surgery to remove my gallbladder; I think it’s safe to say that I’m definitely past the point of recovery. In the previous post, I left off where I was finally given the green light for the endoscopy. They were going to check my gallbladder, but they also wanted to rule out tumors in the liver and gallstone pancreatitis. I was given a light anesthesia, and the procedure took about an hour and a half.
Results were as expected or good. Liver, pancreas, both okay. I was told surgery could happen the following day; if not, most likely the day after. All I knew is that if they withheld dinner the night before, then for certain I was in a higher position in the surgery line-up.
The laparoscopic surgery happened 2 days after the endoscopy under general anesthesia. The procedure went smoothly, with zero complications. Most of that afternoon is still fuzzy in my mind, but I did retain some snippets of what happened. After scooting over from the gurney to the operating table, my arms and legs were placed spread-eagle on supports and bound with velcro. Okay, a bit alarming but I didn’t ask why. The only thing I did ask was how is it possible for a gallbladder to be removed from an incision that is barely 1.5 cm (5/8-inch) wide. The nurse replied, “Don’t worry, if necessary, we’ll just make the cut a little bigger. It’s big enough that even I can fit through it!” She actually made me laugh.
The second thing I remember is coming to my senses as the anesthesia wore off. Ugh, what a shitty feeling. After the 2 nurses dressed me from hospital gown to my clothing, I began shaking like a leaf! I may as well have been in my birthday suit in the snow. Side effect from anesthesia, they told MotH. They piled on the blankets and MotH even added his jacket and my housecoat. Fortunately the shivers didn’t last too long, but they could’ve warned me beforehand!
After the operation I was led to believe that if my recovery was good, I’d go home the following day. Not a chance. I was released 3 days later. During that period of waiting I did everything in my power to convince the doctors and staff that I was fine. In fact about 9 hours after surgery I had to use the bathroom. I did it the conventional way instead of calling for a bedpan. Each day I was asked if I had passa l’aria (passed gas) and scaricato (pooped), 2 questions that I’d routinely hear in adjacent rooms. I took my pills, ate my food, and never made a fuss. The only part I failed at convincing them was how much it hurt. Four small incisions in my abdomen, of course there was pain, but not as much as the kind of pain in giving birth! When asked about the dolore (pain) I always made light of it. But there’s no fooling those nurses. In one particular instance, a nurse was gently pressing around my incisions and asked if I had any pain. I replied just a little. Another nurse standing by then asked, “So why are you clenching your teeth?” So busted!
On the day of finally being released, the attending physician stressed the importance of a lite diet. “No fried food,” he tells me. I shook my head in agreement with a vehement no. “We’ll see you in a week to remove your stitches.” All in all, my 10-day hospital stay was an experience that left me with no ill feelings. The nurses and the rest of the staff that I saw on a day-to-day basis were 110% professional. I’m aware that public healthcare isn’t looked upon fondly across the pond, and I know it isn’t perfect, but we never have to worry if either of us becomes gravely sick or injured.
At this point I can gradually go back to a normal diet. I’m still debating whether I should bother with ‘normal’ at all. I now eat 4 small meals a day instead of 3 big ones. I can eat ‘with my eyes’ on YouTube but when it comes to actually sitting at the table, I figure I eat 75% less than what I used to. Strangely enough, I’ve come to love baked apples, the one item that I looked forward to in those hospital meals. With a dusting of cinnamon on top, I’ve had a baked apple daily since returning home. As the saying goes – an apple a day keeps the doctor away. I sure hope so.
Rubber Slippers In Italy 