I'm having surgery. Again.
My life is awesome like that.
This will be the third surgery I'll have had in the last 12 months. It's, luckily (and thankfully) going to be a lot less invasive than the last two. I'm looking forward to having an outpatient procedure instead of my usual open-abdomen routine followed by a full week in a hospital bed.
I met with my surgeon last week in order to go over my list of pre-surgery questions. We all know how I love to make lists. You should see the list of questions I came up with for this one. In fact, I think I'll show you. That'll be a good time, for sure.
How do you know where the cysts are? Will you have to do a CT to know where to cut? (I had to ask, because I usually have multiple scans prior to surgery. It turns out that these suckers are always in the same place.) There's no need to do a scan prior to surgery, as pilonidal cysts are always at the base of your tailbone. (Which, apparently, is an easy find.) Good to know.
So, is it just the one cyst, or is there a chance that there's more than one? ... Oh, there's probably more than one. They start on the end of your tailbone, but they build on top of each other and literally finger out (he gestured with his hand, by extending his fingers and stretching them out). Awesome. I need a bowl, just thinking about having finger-like cysts spreading out at the base of my tailbone. (On the other hand, that does explain why there is not one single, solitary position that is comfortable to sit in right now...)
Will I be awake for the surgery? No. I will be totally out. THANK HEAVEN! ... Originally, I'd been told that it would be a local anesthetic. Halle-freakin-lujah that the man remembered what a nervous freak I am and decided to put me totally down. I mean under. (You put dogs down, right? Soooo not what I'm looking for!)
What's the likelihood that these cysts will grow back after removal? Per the doc, it's "pretty high". (Pretty high = 10%, btw.) Uh... a 10% chance of recurrence is not high in the world that I live in. I'll tell you what I told the doctor, "I'm living with a 60% chance of recurrence of a malignant tumor. I'll take a 10% odds of recurring benign cysts any old day. Cut them out!"
Can I expect to sit... like, at all? Yes. On cushioned furniture with extra pillows (good thing I have that approx 8 inches thick pillow that's too fluffy to even think about napping on, lest I break my little neck), or on a donut (thank you, Jo, for being the possessor of many strange and unusual objects (read: having a donut I can borrow) so I don't have to be the proud owner of both a walker, complete with tennis balls, and a donut). Good grief.
Will I have stitches or - heaven forbid - staples? Stitches.
Will they be the kind that automatically dissolve, or will I have to go in and have them removed? ... Oh, yeah. There will be stitches. Lots of them. One round will be removed one week after surgery, the next round will come out at the two week mark. (Awesome. Totally looking forward to those appointments. ... Get me a bowl!)
Can I be in water? Yes and no. Showers, yes. Bathtubs, no. Swimming pools, absolutely not for 4 weeks, and possibly longer, depending on healing. ... Argh, it's gonna be a hot summer for me.
How big is the incision? Approx two inches deep and two inches wide, varying on how many cysts there are to remove. Super awesome. (Again, if you need a bowl right now, I am not judging.) It will be a closed incision (see above for intel on the stitches), which I'm grateful for, as WebMD had scared the pants off me with all of their talk of open incisions and having to pack the area with gauze. (Ewh.)
Should I be on antibiotics? (Not to be too graphic, but have I mentioned that they've been irritated and infected since mid-March?) Oh, yeah, I should be on antibiotics. They'll give me a hardcore dose of antibiotics at surgery to take care of any surgery-related infection issues, but if there's even a chance of infection prior to surgery, he'll have to leave the incision open for drainage. ... Guess who's on a 10 day round of Amoxicillin? Uh, yeah. Me. (Threaten me with an open incision and I'll swallow as many horse pills as ... well, a horse.)
Will I be able to walk? (Because we all know that I am a big fan of taking walks on a daily basis, though maybe not so much in the coming Summer heat.) Yes. No. Maybe a little bit. I'll technically be able to walk, but I shouldn't walk more than a mile a day, lest I irritate the incision. ... Message received loud and clear. I will be lying on my side, eating ice cream and watching Alias for weeks. I'm all about NOT irritating an incision more than absolutely necessary, folks. All about that.
Other information he just volunteered, because I didn't have the foresight to ask:
There will be drainage. Not much, but expect some. (Ewh.)
It's not necessary to apply any special ointment. (Ointment is a creepy word. I'm so glad to know that I don't have any "special" kinds of it.)
I'll be out of work for approx 4 weeks. As of now, I'm estimated to return to work mid-July and will work part-time (as I have been through May) until the first week of August, at which point I plan to resume "life, as usual".
And that's the scoop, folks. The situation and procedure are a little creepy and weird, but I'm so sick of not being able to sit like a normal person that I'm actually excited to get this done and move on to some actual healing. (As of now, my upper back hurts almost constantly because my core isn't strong enough to support my movement. When I wake up, my back doesn't hurt. By 10:00 AM, it burns. By 2:00 PM, I'm in agony. It's awesome. And there's no relief that doesn't compromise another area. If I lie on my side, my incision hurts. If I lie on my back, my tailbone screams at me. And I don't even want to tell you what kind of expletives my tailbone uses if I try to sit down and lean back into the couch or recliner to give my back a break. ... It's a good thing that a little internal PG-13 language isn't a big deal to me, is all I'm saying.) I'm not trying to throw a pity party - I'm just saying that I'm pretty psyched at the promise of weeks lying down, drugged up on the good stuff again. (Because I like to err on the side of not being addicted to prescription pain pills, I've been limited to Ibuprofen and Tylenol for the last six or so weeks. Knowing that Percocet is right around the corner is a comfort on a whole lot of levels.)
I'll keep any and/or all of you posted as time (and medication) allows. ... If there's anything I've learned from the last year of surgery and such, it's that prescription drugs (oh, and pain) limit my ability to post something coherent on any kind of regular basis. (Not that I'm known for my incredibly well-thought out posts when I'm drug-and-pain-free, but whatever.)
4 comments:
Your gross factor doesn't even come close to Whitney's blog. I'm still dizzy from seeing half a picture on that one (although he thought "poor Elliot" has awesome pictures).
Good luck next week. I wish they knocked me out for mine. The nurse kept telling me what they found in it (ew, gross, I don't need to know hair got stuck in my cysts. It still makes me gag a little 8.5 years later). I bet this surgery will be cake walk compared to your last two. Hope you recover fast.
Oh, and the poison ivy is so much better today. Thanks for calling last night. Always fun to chat.
...and Whitney...if you ever read this, I can't comment or visit your blog for a month or so. I might feel better by then!
Thanks for keeping us updated. It sounds like this procedure (a euphemism for "surgery," which after Bob's 20th or so sounded so much nicer, silly us) will help out on many fronts. And I simply LOVE same-day, um, procedures, compared to the long overnighters. Yay! You get to go home as soon as you can spell and/or say your name!
Hey dear hope you have a complete recovery! We will pray for no more surgeries for you! Love you girl!
Hum, I've been wondering about my lack of blog readers lately.
I don't know how I missed this post and didn't know when this surgery was! By the way, I agree that OINTMENT is a very creepy word along with a long list of others that make my brain feel mushy (including MOIST). My roommates and I would sit and think of words like that just for entertainment.
I'd ask for surgery pictures of this surgery (and the other 2 for that matter), but then Myra wouldn't look at your blog anymore. Poison Ivy pictures would be cool though.
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