Last night I had a fever (100F) so my dad pulled strings at the hospital this morning and got me in to see one of the other C&R surgeons (mine is out of town this week).
So Jerry drove me over there and the surgeon took a look at things.
My wound has completely opened up, which “happens sometimes,” and is probably the source of my discomfort. Gee, ya think?
But the infection looks to have cleared up, and the surgeon told me that I could stop taking the antibiotic that makes me so sick. I cried with joy right there. I’m to stay on the Cipro, though (no anthrax for me!)…
They took some blood to check my counts and took a urine sample to check for a UTI and my electrolyte levels.
And I puked in the bushes on the way out — and I DID take an antinausea pill this morning, so I don’t even want to postulate how I would have felt if I had not.
I did ask the scheduling nurse at checkout how long people hate their lives after surgery like this (she had tried to warn me, by calling it a “sphincter OH! plasty — because that’s how you’re gonna feel — ‘OH!'”… but I guess I just kind of dismissed it)… She said usually about three weeks. So here I am at 2 weeks and 1 day. She said, “You’re almost there. Just hang in there. You can do it.”
They’re all so nice over there. I told the nurse (with whom I’ve spoken several times this week already), “I’m going to need to send you a Christmas card.” She laughed.
At least I have NO issues with the surgeons or the office staff. They have all been so wonderful to me.
Of course, I say this prior to receiving any sort of bill. I hope my tune doesn’t change.