Phyllis's Surgery

I needed to write about this and you can read or not. I just needed to put the words down and let it go.

Phyllis, my daughter, woke up coughing Sunday. Suddenly, she had a softball sized lump sticking out from her stomach. Yikes! I knew it was a hernia. She was supposed to work that afternoon but decided to run my the ER on her way.

If you've ever been in an ER for even a splinter, you KNOW you don't just run in/run out, don't you. She was in a lot more pain than she would let me know and she wouldn't let me take her down there. They gave her some pain med in her iv drip while they waited for the various results. The upshot was that she did, indeed, have a honking big hernia and needed to have it tended to asap. They gave her the name of surgeon,

Monday, she was off to see him. He told her it was a dangerous one and needed to be taken care of before it became strangulated. Which I had already told her. I've had a couple of hernia that did just that and nearly killed me. But Phyllis lives in the Land of Denial.

Doc would have done surgery that day, but she had eaten breakfast. So, Tuesday afternoon was slotted in. She woke up Tuesday, coughed and the lump went away. She decided she didn't need to have the surgery now. I told her the blank, blank hole was still there and the softball would be back when it was least convenient. Doc told her the same thing when she called.

The upshot is that she had surgery late on Tuesday. But we were at the hospital all afternoon. As soon as they took her to the OR, my granddaughter, Olivia, and I hot-footed it around the corner to McDonald's for a bite to eat. Then I drove her 14.5 miles home so she could get herself to cheer practice on time and not get strikes. Which ticks me off. Apparently the cheer coaches don't accept any excuse for missing a practice or a competition. Remind me not to die have a funeral on practice day. I really don't like those women. I don't much care for cheer competion, either. They are such a bunch of drama queens. You never find all that cattiness and back-biting in Rugby or softball. Or probably in any other sport where teamwork is required. Sheesh.

I didn't even pause when O got out of the car. I just headed back for Lititz and the hospital. Halfway there, the doctor called and told me the surgery was over and went fine. Phyllis was in the recovery room. She was there for about an hour. Then, back in the cubicle for a bit. There were certain things she had to be able to do before they'd release her. We got out around 6:30-ish.

She told them to call her Vicodin presecription in to the 24 hour CVS on Litiz Pike. They have a handy dandy drive-thru prescription window. We got there and there were about 4 cars in front of us. So we sashayed around the corner to Sheetz to get Phyllis a sandwich. She hadn't eaten since 10 the night before. When we got back to CVS, they couldn't find the prescription. Turned out the hospital called it in to the CVS in Bridgeport! Not going all the way over there. They said they would have it sent to them but we'd have to come back in about 20 minutes.

Since Phil & Amy live just a few blocks away, Phyllis wondered if we could go over there for a bit. I called and Amy said come right on. So we did. Phyllis was full of drugs at that point but enjoyed the little visit. Mike, Jess & Elijah were there. So, we got a baby fix. Brady was already upstairs with Daddy Phil trying to get him to sleep.

After an hour, Phyllis & I left to get the prescription and get her home. Which we did. Halleluia!

Today, she is feeling sore. I took her to the Centerville CVS to get some other prescription filled. The Vicodin doesn't seem to be lasting as long as it should. I never want to take that stuff again. I never, ever had such a vile headache as I did from Vicodin. It was worse than the surgical pain. Poor Phyllis felt every little bump in the road. I tried to stop and accelerate smoothly but there was nothing I could do about the roads. You don't notice those things when you aren't in pain.