Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Narcotics, orthotics, scar.

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Is there anything more satisfying than an opioid-induced sleep?  Probably not which is why it's such a problem.  I refused pain medication for about 24 hours after my C-section with Vince because I was worried that it would go into my breastmilk to Vincie (and somewhat worried about becoming dependent on them), but after 24 hours, my exhaustion set in (I had gone through a 40 hour on-an-off labor and then the C-section) and I took that first pill and was able to sleep well for the first time in three days.  I try to ask for the right amount of pain medication for Edda, but, honestly, it's a little tricky. They constantly change the pain med orders on me, swinging from every 6 hours to prn (pro re nata (as needed)) without really telling me or Jeremy and it's hard to keep track of the administration of the med to Edda.  Last night, at 10:30pm, she was completely restless and her heart rate was up at 145 and I found out she hadn't had any pain meds (except Tylenol which I consider a dangerous med (liver) with no upside (has anyone's kid's fever ever gone down on acetaminophen?) for twelve hours.  Argh.

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Jeremy and I have had completely orthogonal hospital experiences.  We've split the time 50/50.  His 50% is usually alone where he finishes email and works on PowerPointTM presentations. Edda  comfortably walks, transfers to the chair and tries to smile.  The various services come in and do their thing and leave.  Information seems concise and clear.  No one calls him - Hi Dad!  How's she doing today?  On the other hand, I have 10,000 people calling me "mom".  Hi Mom!  Did she have a bowel movement today?  Hi Mom!  Does valium work well for her?  OK Mom!  Support her butt as she stands.  Edda and I have tons of visitors, texts and phone calls, each taking care of me and Edda.  I get student occupational therapists with mentors trying to train me and Adriana how to do bed transfers and there was drama with that.  Pain med dosing, feeding regiments get all moved around on me.  And I get to help with the enemas.  I'm not sure if it's a gender thing? Or a personality thing?

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The doc just came in.  Took out her drain & changed the dressing.  If we can eat something today, we are outta here!  Here's her incision all super glued together.

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