Tag Archives: surgery

Life After Frankie’s Eviction

What has life been like since Frankie’s eviction? Besides the three weeks I was hunched over and in pain when I coughed, laughed, sneezed, or moved the wrong way and the other three weeks when I felt great, but couldn’t do anything, it has been amazing. No complications at all. Thank the Lord! The human body is absolutely amazing. Six weeks after being gutted like a fish (I have the scar to prove it), and having something the size of a baby’s head and its 4 much smaller counterparts removed from my uterus, I’m good as new. I just wished that someone would have told me that after three or four weeks, you would get this burning, tingling sensation in your abdomen that, while causing a massive panic attack, would turn out to be nerves healing themselves. That might be the first time in recorded history that Web MD did not tell me I was going to die.  6 weeks after my surgery, I got clearance from my doctor to move freely about the cabin, (work and working out) and it was on like Donkey Kong.

Since my fileting, I mean surgery; my quality of life has improved greatly. The round alien mound is now replaced by a slightly swollen (that is what I am telling myself) tummy and a protective layer of fluff over my 6 pack (again what I am telling myself). No more abdominal pressure, pants not fitting correctly, and other bodily function issues (which I will not go into. You’re welcome). I’ll leave that up to your imaginations. I also have this amazing scar. My doctor did a good job of stitching me up. It is still a little hard (I’m still healing). And I have been attacking it daily with Mederma to lightened it up a bit Since Frankie was so big, I had to get a vertical incision. Now I have a line from my belly button to about an inch and a half below my bikini line. I’m still going to rock my Fendi bikini. So there! And in approximately 8 months, if I am married, I can try to get pregnant.

frankie-beofre-eviction-picutre

Before…

After!

After!

That was the main reason behind my decision to have the surgery. Yes, the physical stuff was getting annoying, but if left unchecked, Frankie would fill up my uterus and make it hard, if not impossible for me to get pregnant. My chances of miscarriage were increased with him lurking inside, just hanging out. When you put it that way, Frankie has no choice but to get the hell out. Even though a C-Section will be 99% likely when I do become pregnant, at least will be able to have kids.

Once I got the OK, I was really itching to start working out again, mainly to see how flat my stomach could get now that Frankie is no longer an inhabitant of my body. While the body is an amazing thing, somethings don’t bounce back quick as others. My cardio went from amazing to non-existent. What would you expect after not moving for 6 weeks? But slow and steady wins the race. After doing some of my favorite workouts (Turbo Fire/Turbo Kick) and new Beachbody on Demand workouts from Joel and Jericho, I am pleased to announce that my pants are starting to fit again! All I did was alternating days of 30 minutes of cardio and 20 minutes of lifting, and a somewhat clean diet. That’s it! Oh, I should mention that my clean diet consists of no meat, dairy, and very little seafood. But more about that later. It will keep you coming back for more.

If you have any questions about fibroids, fibroid surgery, going semi-vegan, or working after surgery, ask away at bianca@beingbiancas.com. I’m here to help

Later Days

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On The Road To Recovery

You really take for granted the simple things in life like going to the bathroom or getting out of bed until you can’t do them as you once could, but I’ll get to that later.

This post will contain a lot of medical lingo and stuff, so if that isn’t your cup of tea, feel free to speed read through those parts.

I actually got some sleep on Monday, which is shocking because I had a heard time keeping it together when I left for work. Everything was coming together. I was really going into the hospital for surgery. I really was going to be out of work for a month or more. Shit was going down.

Tuesday… S-Day. I remember a lot clearly. I remember finally getting everything together heading out the door for the ride to my parents. What is the one thing you don’t want to drive behind when you are about to go the hospital? A hearst. Yup, this actually happened to me. It wasn’t for the entire drive, but long enough to make me frazzled.

I remember the ride to the hospital. Getting checked in. The hurry up and wait. The lovely hospital gown, socks and compression cuffs. I remember the IV. This was what I was most afraid of. My nurse made me laugh and I remember the I sweet relief when she said it was in. One stick! I remember people asking my about my high blood pressure, my EKG, which showed a minor blip. Nothing major, but something that needs to be checked on. I remember seeing my doctor, kissing my mom and being wheeled of to the OR. I remember the brightness of the hallway and t that his is not a time to go towards the light, but that seemed to be all that was in front on me. Bright lights and windows.

I remember sliding onto the table, the nurse telling me they were going to give me the good stuff, my arm being placed on an arm rest, the sound of velcro and off to dream land I went.

When I woke up, 3 hours later, I was in the recovery room. There were so many people and sounds. I just wanted to see. I didn’t have my glasses so everything was blurry. The nurse brought my mom back and as she dug around her bag, I croaked out “Really”. At that point I knew I was going to be ok. I remember the first time my hand grazed my incision (small it is not). Finally my room was ready and it was time to move to my bed. Slowly but surely, I slid over and was wheeled off to my accomodations. I remember the sexy radio voice that I had, taking to my family and friends. I remember every two hours, people were coming in taking my vitals and emptying my folio (I had a catheter). I would does off and wake up 20 minutes later, I couldn’t stay awake.

I remember the worst night sleep of my life, being woken up by a couple of residents coming in at 5:30am to check my incision, ask if I had passed gas or gone to the bathroom, and regal me of ways to lower my blood pressure. I remember the lovely nurse removing my catheter, and my first experience with Room Service. Seriously, you call in your order and your hostess brings it up to your room. Ingenious. I remember the first time I got out of bed. Talk about an experience. I must say, I never realized how easy it was to get out of bed until it took me all of my energy and then some just to sit on the edge of the bed. The first few steps were not as bad as I thought. I was shaky at first but was soon hobbling my way to the bathroom. Who knew the ability to use the bathroom would be a relief to not only the nurses, but myself as well.

I remember feeling better with each passing moment. Realizing that the human body is amazing. I remember the first time I spoke with my doctor about the surgery, How she told me that my blood pressure spiked for no clear reason. How 5 fibroids were removed. Apparently Frankie had friends living with him that were not on the lease. I remember the shock when she told me that I had lost a liter of blood and Frankie was the size of a baby’s head. I remember her telling me that I can still have kids (my mother was relived to hear that I’m sure), but I would have to have a C Section (Fine by me). I remember my first laps around the nurse’s station. How walking really does get things moving and the second feeling of relief when I passed gas (yeah TMI I know)

I remember Friday morning when my doctor told me that I could home, how I swiftly (not  really) got dressed, packed my bag and waited for the nurse to come with my discharge papers. I remember the joy when the nurse finally removed my IV. I remember how weird it felt to leave in a wheelchair, the first time the air hit my face when I exited the hospital. I remember how happy I was to kiss and hug my puppy and finally have some peace and quiet.

I remember the RNs, PCTs, Doctors, and hospital staff who took such great care of me.

So here I am, almost a week post surgery, and I feel great. I don’t walk too hunched over anymore and getting out of the bed is getting easier every morning. And I actually feel like putting pants on today. Sweatpants. I do get tired easily, but I just have to remember to take it slow.

One day at a time.

Later Days.
B

Frankie’s Being Evicted

You know that moment when you know you have made the right decision, all the parts are in place, everything is order, but you still feel like Alice when she goes thrown down the rabbit hole?

Frankie in his natural habitat

That is me, right now. At first I thought that my expanding tummy pooch was due the fact that I had fallen off the wagon with my clean eating and workout habits, but when I started to feel pressure in my stomach and my clothes no longer fit, I knew that Frankie was getting his revenge. It takes a lot for me to willingly schedule a doctor’s appointment and even more for my to call the “girly doctor” on my lunch break. I had a week before my appointment to wrap my head around the possibility that my doctor would tell me that I needed surgery. If you have weak constitutions, please for the Love of Pancakes and Chocolate Chip cookies do not google the terms, Fibroid removal and/or myomectomy. If you do, please don’t search images. You have been warned and I do not take any responsibility for your reaction.

I must admit, at the beginning of the appointment, my doctor was leaning towards renewing Frankie’s lease. But after being ultrasounded every way possible and examined, it was abundantly clear that Frankie was getting his eviction notice. I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. I had done enough reading and video watching to know what I was in for. What I was not prepared for was my doctor informing me that there is chance I need vertical incision. Yeah, Frankie #1 and #2 (seems that one of my other fibroids decided to have a growth spurt as well) are so big and I am so small, that I need to sliced open.  And I just got a cute new Fendi bikini. There is a chance that this will change when I am splayed out on the operating table, but for right now, one piece swim suits and a Scar Away are in my future.

 

Damn you Frankie

Honestly, the hardest part of this entire process has not been telling people. That truly has been a piece of cake. My family and “circle of trust” have been absolutely amazing. I don’t know what I would do without them. Getting the phone calls, letters, and emails from the hospital have been the worst.It makes everything so real, like “yup, you are going to be under anesthesia, sliced open, crap removed from your uterus, stitched up like Frankenstein and sent on my merry way to spend Thanksgiving convalescing at my parent’s house. While I know that this is a necessary procedure which will improve my quality of life and chances of having kids one day in the very not so distant future. I just want to get everything over and done with. Just yank the bandaid off already and be done with it.

Another thing I am not looking forward to… 4-6 weeks of recovery. The most I have not worked out has been a week, but even then, I would walk at lunch and to and from the train station. What is a girl to do? I guess I can catch up on my knitting, reading, and Netflix binging. Bring it on!

Tomorrow marks the beginning of the end. Pre-Opp appointment with my doctor and pre-admission testing at the hospital, then one last weekend hoorah before the big slice and dice. Until then, it’s all happy thoughts of unicorns, rainbows, glitter, pixie dust, and blue skies up until S-Day (surgery day) and beyond. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you all in the loop about my surgery and recovery!

Later Days
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