A couple more surgeries and a gross wound pic

My second surgery was Saturday November 14th. surgery was scheduled for early in the morning which was nice because I could eat normally the day before and try to sleep. I woke up early on Saturday morning in tears. For reasons I can't explain, I was scared and emotionally overwhelmed. I truly felt that I might not wake from the surgery and could not stop crying from when they wheeled me down to the OR waiting area an hour before surgery until I went in. I was cold and shaky and couldn't really talk to Keith and Joan who came to wait with me. Joan ended up reading Ann Romney's book I had picked up at the library before the vacation. There are some funny moments in the beginning and it helped ease my tension. My nurses were also so kind to me and tried their best to make me comfortable with warm blankets and pain meds. 

I don't remember much of this day, I was out before they got me into the OR room and came to again when they were reattaching the wound vac. When I got back to my room, they hooked me up to the good pain meds and I'm assuming I mostly slept. The surgery had gone well and Dr. Dworkin let us know that he wanted a plastic surgeon to cover my wound with a skin graft to protect my bone and encourage healthy skin growth. He told us he sent a picture to the best plastic surgeon he knew, Dr. Schnurr.

Warning: Graphic Image

My foot after 2 debridement surgeries

Dr. Shcnurr told him that he could do it but wouldn't be able to get me in for at least a week, possibly two. He still wasn't sure about my toe, we would have to wait and see how my healing went. The next day, I was in a lot of pain but because it was Sunday, Keith spent a lot of the day with me and the kids were able to visit for a while. Our home teachers came to administer the sacrament which felt like living water. I was so grateful for it. Most memorable from that day was a phone call from my dad. My Grandma Pearson had passed away quite unexpectedly. She had been in the hospital, sick from Salmonella and her body had shut down over the week. My heart was broken that I couldn't be there to see her before she passed and that I wouldn't be able to attend her funeral. I have many fond memories of visiting my grandparents farm in Arco, Idaho every summer. My grandma grew raspberries and had a beautiful garden and flowers. She was an incredible cook and I loved her wit and strong spirit. I'm grateful she didn't suffer long but she will be missed.

Jay and Sue Pearson

Verl and Sue Brower on their wedding day

4 Generations- me with my dad, Grandma Sue and Great Grandma Pauline Wixom

My nurses heard of my loss and were extra kind. My podiatrist expressed his condolences and how sorry he was that I couldn't travel for the funeral.

By Sunday, my IV had been moved several times. I had been receiving constant fluids, antibiotics and pain meds which were causing my veins to blow. When a vein has had enough, the medicine will start to burn and my vein feels as if it is on fire. Cherise and one of her boys happened to come just moments before this happened for about the 3rd time that day- each time seeming more painful. I won't forget how she held my hand while I cried and massaged my good foot to distract from the pain. My kids also came right at that moment which was unfortunate because I missed some precious time with them. I didn't want them to see me in pain. At that point, Kenzie was handling everything the best. She wasn't acting out at school and when she came to visit, she was attentive and sweet. Clara wouldn't come near me. I knew I made her nervous so I didn't push her. Emmett wouldn't tolerate me very well either. I ended up bribing them with the treats so many friends brought to give me a hug. The kids would bring pictures and fill my room with their sweet noise. When they left, my room felt so empty and lonely.

Pictures from my kids

I had a handful of visitors that I really appreciated. The hospital they took me to, was not the closest to our house. It was about a 25 minute drive and with it being the holidays I knew people were busy and I recognized that sacrifice. My good friend Cherise came with a basket of goodies for me and the kids. She washed my hair a couple of times and kept me company on several occasions. My friends Julie and Daciana also brought a basket of goodies and entertainment. Jessica, a woman I hardly knew, came by with treats and a basket filled with scents to make my room smell good. My RS president came a few times, did my hair, kept me company and organized my room which was badly needed. My friend Lisa came by several times. I know there were others, I wish I could remember them all. I also had friends helping Keith and my in-laws by bringing meals and providing rides and entertainment for my kids.

My RS president Jennifer helped wash and braid my hair

On Monday the 16th, I was feeling better. I still needed a lot of help getting to the bathroom but I wasn't so heavily medicated. We thought I would be on my way home in a couple of days, after my home wound vac came. I also got my PICC (peripherally inserted central catheter) line which I was initially excited about because I was tired of being poked and dealing with my veins blowing. The PICC procedure unfortunately was another painful and kind of horrifying experience. The nurse started on my left arm. The left arm is preferable because it's closer to the heart, but mine had been through some trauma from the accident and was a bit swollen. I knew something was wrong when my chatty and super friendly nurse stopped talking as he was threading the catheter through my arm. I could hear the panic in his voice when he went to get another nurse. The second nurse came in and immediately clamped his hand around my arm. It was so painful and he apologized and explained that an artery had been hit and he needed to apply heavy pressure for at least 20 minutes. He pulled out the catheter and nurse #1 left. Nurse #2 started talking to me to distract me and we found out that he lived near me and was a member of the Church. He was also head nurse of the PICC department and that eased my worries. I was unusually calm as he put a PICC in my right arm. He was so fast and gentle, I didn't realize he had put it in until he told me he was done. The mess up left my arm with a lot of pain and swelling which he said would leave a nasty bruise. Also unfortunate was the fact that now that I had a PICC in my right arm, my blood pressure cuff had to go on the left. I was near tears every time my BP was taken for several days and it hurt beyond my hospital release.

Photo taken on the 21st. The circle is where the catheter was inserted. You can see the beginning of my bruising

The rest of the day went fine and Keith was with me that night when we got a surprise visit from Dr. Schnurr. He came in and abruptly said that he would like to do a skin graft and he would be available the following night. We were so excited to hear that I wouldn't need to wait and we could get my healing started. He told us he couldn't make any promises. He would take me back to the OR, clean up the wound a little more and decide if it was ready for a graft. If it looked good enough for a graft, he would use donor skin which my body would reject within a couple of weeks but would still promote healing. He would follow it with a skin graft of my own skin. If we were lucky and the wound looked really good, he would use my skin for the graft, a piece of my thigh or butt.

I remember being overwhelmed with surprise and gratitude that he was willing to perform the surgery so quickly for me and that I had a chance for a graft. I didn't really let myself hope for a graft of my own skin but Keith and I were both optimistic. Tuesday was a bit difficult. I couldn't eat and wasn't feeling well at all the last few hours before surgery. The surgery ended up starting about an hour late because Dr. Schnurr had been in surgery all day. I didn't feel nervous going into it, just really optimistic. This time, the anesthesia didn't kick in as quickly. I vividly remember getting to the OR room and having to move onto the operating table. I was surprised at how cold and sterile it was in there and was grateful to feel myself slipping into the sweet dark sleep where I had a momentary respite from my reality and constant pain.

When I came to, I was sicker than normal. On the positive side, my surgery went as good as it could have. Dr. Schnurr had covered the wound with a graft of my own skin. I couldn't seem to dwell on that though, I felt too awful. My day nurse had me order dinner before the surgery and told me she would tell night shift to put it in the fridge for me. When I got to my room, my dinner tray was sitting on my table, cold and about 3 hours old. I found that my night nurse was one I hated. I'm positive she was new and training because she never anticipated my needs, she was incredibly loud throughout the night and forgot a lot of my requests. Keith couldn't stay with me because it was so late and he needed to go home to sleep for work in the morning. It was a bad night for me, I was angry to be alone with a bad nurse and have to experience the pain and overwhelming nausea that always followed surgery.