Hospital Food Stinks

I have been wanting to share about my hospital exploits for a few days now. I browsed through my camera, and much to my dismay, found little in the way of rotten pics to show you. I share what I have and hopefully you will have not lost any of the little respect that you may have for me.

Just a warning though. I may get a bit graphic, or sometimes cross the line of what is appropriate for a blogger of my wholesome nature to share. You may wonder if I know what boundaries are.

Tuesday I went to Outpatient surgery thinking that I might be home that evening. I knew in the back of my mind that this might be a bit more complicated than the routine removal of the gall bladder. My radiology reports showed "a wall thickness of 7 mm" (normal is 3), "numerous stones, severe inflammation, moderate infection and interluminal sludge filling the sac." Eeehhhwwww gross. Sounds serious.

I am roused at 8 pm with Lenny telling me that I was there to stay for a few days. Ok, I thought. Then I proceeded to ask him if he had brought my passport. He tells me that he did indeed bring it. The nurse asks me where I am going and I declare, "Paris!" Obviously I was still feeling the effects of the heavenly morphine.

Two orderlies take me to my room, Lenny is at my side and we all join two other men in the elevator. I look around and smile I am told and state, "Look at all of these men around me." Still loving the drugs. Lenny says that he is calling Teen Challenge to see if they can get me into detox.

When I realize the state of things the next morning, I see that I am hooked up to many things. The most obvious is the IV pole which is pumping me with antibiotics and saline. I see the tape and tubes attached to my left hand and decided right then and there that I do not own a left hand. If I can detach from that, then I can deal with the gross needles.

Next are the Sequentials. They are leg wraps filling with and depleting air around my calves and ankles. Interesting. Apparently I need to stay away from blood clots. I have an oxygen tube in my nose that oddly enough brings me great comfort. And now let's not forget the best of it all. I have a pee bag. That's what my kids call it. I have what feels like a garden hose between my legs filling with potty and draining to a bag attached to my IV pole. Ohhhhh yuck.

Over the next few days, I proceed to get a fungus infection from the catheter tube. Hmmm sounds like I need the free clinic. It spreads to the back of my legs and other places. I now have to have the nurse inspect me. Nothing like a pretty young nurse with rubber gloves on lift up my gown and gaze at my yahoo. HUMILIATION people, I tell you.

Ladies, you will love this one. You know that visitor that we get about 12 times a year. Yep, she came unannounced, and quite frankly, unwelcome to visit me in the hospital. My nurse's aid pulls out the maternity underwear that we all get after we push out those kids.

It is quite possibly my proudest vile moment. All I could think of was why in the world we didn't have a laptop right then so that I could blog it.

On Thursday night, Lenny and the kids came to see me. They proceeded to kick me out of my bed, they hopped in and played with the buttons until I kicked them out. I got into bed, my feet were higher than the rest of me and then I found out the bed was broken. The nurse switched with the other bed in my room and red tagged the violated bed. And because of all of that, the bed was rendered unusable, thereby giving me a private room! I love my family.

I came home on my birthday, Saturday, April 26th. It was a good day and I was ready to be home. Prognosis looks great. Sit back, relax, don't push/pull anything, no reaching or lifting anything over 5 ppounds. Yee haw this looks great.

I have a 5ish inch incision and three other little ones. I am of course going to share my "caterpillar" with you. I thought this would rival terrilynne's pics but I think hers are better.

Home From the Hospital

Super duper short. I can hardly breathe while sitting upright.

Tuesday, I went into to Long Beach Memorial to have outpatient surgery to have my nasty gall bladder removed. Today is Saturday and I just got home about 2 hours ago.

It turned out to be way more complicated than expected, much more infected and really just nauseating to think about.

I have numerous comedic moments from this week that I can not wait to share. Right now, I need Vicodin and a stool softener. Anyone wanna help?

Oh, and today is my birthday. 40 minus 1. Spent the morning of it in the hospital, spending the rest of it moaning.

See ya soon.

Daddy Daughter Date

I love my husband. I love him for many things, but specifically right here, I love how he fathers and loves our kids.

I just want to share this photo of Lenny and Sarah. A few weeks ago, Sarah came home from Missionettes with a flyer from another church that was hosting a Daddy/Daughter Date in a few weeks. Somehow, I missed it and didn't think anything about it. But Lenny found the flyer. I didn't know anything about it until a week or so later when he put the directions on the fridge. I asked him if he would be interested in it.

He told me that yes, he would love to go and that he had already filled it out, sent it in and then asked Sarah to go on the date with him.

They went two Saturday's ago and had a wonderful time.

Isn't he just the coolest dad ever?

Surgery

Hello to all 1 or 2 of you out that still believe in me. I just stink at keeping up with this blog. I feel like if I blog everyday I will just bore you with the mundane everyday life of Donna Gisbert. For those of you that have nothing better to do, read on. More drivel.

For several years now, I have had recurring episodes of pain in my upper abdomen, around to my back and sometimes in between my shoulder blades. I frequently have muscle spasms but those don't even come close to the attacks of the ab/back pain. I always thought it was something to do with stress. Both Lenny and I tend to carry our stress in our backs. For years I have always attributed my pain to just plain ol' freaking out over something.

Over Easter vacation, I woke up in the middle of the night and literally thought I was going to do die. If I wasn't going to die, I wanted to. Seriously, I wanted to meet Jesus that night. Lenny was working and wouldn't be home for another 9 hours. I suffered through it, crying, moaning and completely out of my mind. He came home the next morning and tried to rub out the muscle pain in my back but the ab pain would not let go.

I should have gone to the E.R.

I went to the doc a few days later, had an ultrasound, and then today met with the surgeon. I have an infected, diseased, twice-it's-normal-size, filled with stones gall bladder.

The doctor was amazed that 1) I didn't go into shock over the infection and 2) I am able to walk around right now. Now, I love this kind of stuff. Nothing exciting other than overflowing toilets ever happen to me. Usually I am all into the drama of it. I am not a hypochondriac but I don't freak out when something healthwise happens to me. At least I don't think I do. But this surgeon was completley bewildered by it all. Not a normal, run-of-the-mill gall bladder surgery.

What do I do? Come home and post about it. Oh, and I found a really gross pic to show ya all, you know, for drama!

Now on the plus side of it all, because of the infection I have a suppressed appetite. Which means, ta daaaaa 9 pounds lost in 3 weeks. This is the easiest weight loss plan ever. Just watch out for the land mine of a rip roaring, gut wrentching pain attack.

His suggestion until my surgery.... stay away from greasy, spicy, fried foods and take it easy. I can soooooooo do that.

Check out Sheri's blog for an eye opening You Tube video.

I will let it speak for itself.

I am kind of a grammar person. So when I saw this quiz on Michelle's blog, I took it. I am an exclamation point. Hmmmm, I guess that would go well with my "strong personality" (chuckle, Monica).

You Are An Exclamation Point

You are a bundle of... well, something. You're often a bundle of joy, passion, or drama. You're loud, brash, and outgoing. If you think it, you say it. Definitely not the quiet type, you really don't keep a lot to yourself. You're lively and inspiring. People love to be around your energy. (But they do secretly worry that you'll spill their secrets without even realizing it.) You excel in: Public speaking You get along best with: the Dash

What'>">What Punctuation Mark Are You?

Luke 12:7

Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

Don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

I have read this verse many times. And many times I have taken comfort in it's promise that if a teeny bird matters to God, then surely I matter immensely to the Lord.

Today, I have taken a new comfort in that verse. I am so very grateful that I am more precious that a sparrow.

Take a looksie.....

Yep those are bird feathers - IN THE DINING ROOM. We were getting ready to leave for school when Jacob screams for me to "come look at what is happening!" I walk into the dining room to see that a sparrow has flown into the kitchen and is caught between the window and the blinds.

I hope it just flies outside without having to touch it, I think.

In less than a microsecond of thinking that, Jack comes flying into the kitchen, immediately goes into hunting dog mode and proceeds to PULVERIZE the little chick right in front of our eyes. He is caught in the blinds, the bird is flapping like crazy and SQUEAKING for help, Jack's tail is wagging in hyperspeed and Jacob and Sarah are screaming at him to stop. Feathers are flying!

He jumps down with the bird still in his mouth and takes off outside. This is what is left of the bird. We chase after Jack to make sure he does not eat the bird. He didn't but he did have about 10 feathers stuck on his tongue.

Jacob and I give it a proper burial by sweeping it into a Cheerio's box and throwing it in the trash can. Sarah is freaking out, Jacob is laughing uncontrollably, anxious to get to school to tell "every boy I know" about the mishap.

Me, I just marvel at how these things always seem to happen at our house.

You Had Better Behave

If you don't behave around here, you never know to where you might be banned.



Jacob having to stand in the corner of the closet.

Jack, after barking too much, was sent to the opening for the new bathroom mirror.

And Sarah, for talking back to her teacher... she got the worst of it. She was expelled to the dog crate. That'll teach her!

Ok, I sure hope that you all realize that this is a joke. Although we are completely off the deep end in our joking, we would never put our child in a dog crate (and then show pictures of it, too!).

Jacob and Sarah were both told by their pediatrician that their expected height would not be on the tall side. 5'2" for Sarah and 5'8" for Jacob. While they can not really comprehend how tall or not tall that really is, they like to complain that they are little. They even complain about the dog being a little dog.

We keep telling them that being shorter/littler/smaller is by far better than being big. They can fit into anything. Hence, the fun pics. They will one day look back at these pics and wish they were this small again.

enii