Greetings to you. I'm assuming you are here for the same reason I was on January 6, 2020. On that date, I went to my GI for a sigmoidoscopy. I had been dealing with UC for 16 years or so. I was on prednisone on and off, 6 straight years in one instance, Remicade, Entyvio, Simponi, and most recently Xeljanz (I was even offered a chance to join a clinical trial). These drugs caused a variety of problems such as insomnia, "moon face," and most recently rosacea. I grew up with acne till my 20s and it resurfaced at 57 years old. The rosacea was worse than any condition of acne I'd ever had. I'd been thinking of surgery for the last few years as there were no other "wonder drugs" if Xeljanz failed to work.
In the summer of 2019, my local baseball team, the Oakland Athletics, traded for a pitcher named Jake Diekman. Jake had been in town for a few weeks when he was interviewed about his foundation called "Gut It Out." It turns out he had an ileostomy a few years earlier and wanted to bring attention to IBS and its stigma. I checked out the webpage and saw that Jake was posing with his bag attached and wearing a "Gut It Out" t-shirt. Needless to say, I bought the shirt and thought, "If a Major League pitcher can play with a bag, I can live my life with one." Thanks, Jake, for being an inspiration for me and others.
Now, back to January 6. Prior to the sigmoidoscopy, I met with my doc and told her that "I can't trust my body anymore." The sense of urgency was coming far too often. I was still able to work without bringing attention to myself, play golf (stopping at every outhouse), and get around. I did bail on friends numerous times during the holiday season. I would go to the bathroom 6-8 times the first 1 1/2 hours after waking. Trips to the bathroom would then be every two hours or so. My symptoms caused inconvenience to me. However, I would later find that they were nothing compared to the many others in the "Meet an Ostomate" community. The sigmoidoscopy was done and the doc returned to my room to meet with my wife and me. She told her there was nothing else she could do for me. I was being referred to a surgeon. This was a strange relief.
I met with the surgeon who told me I was going to have an ileostomy and proctocolectomy. She explained what these were. I then went online and found "Meet an Ostomate," "VeganOstomate," and "Let's Talk IBD" on YouTube. I was, and still am, amazed at the way people open up about such a private condition. Learning from others who have been there is huge. This knowledge gave me intelligent (I hope) questions to ask the medical staff, and a feeling of what to expect. People's stories of pain, disappointment, and frustration prepared me for the worst. I was contacted by member PETey 13 who offered to send me a variety of supplies. Other advice was to wear a pouch for a day or so in order to find a prospective stoma placement and to see what wearing a pouch was like. I did this and found that it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. My daughter came over for dinner that night and didn't even notice I was wearing the appliance. This was a great relief. As I've been told, no one will know I'm wearing this unless I tell them. I also found a few books about the procedure and people's struggles with IBD, etc. If you have the luxury of prior notice, and it is a luxury, use it to educate yourself. There are plenty of members who went to the hospital for stomach problems and woke up with a stoma. No prior notice, no prior preparation, and plenty of pain. I consider myself extremely lucky and admire the strength of those of you who woke up in pain, surprised, and confused.
The days prior to surgery were kind of strange. A lot of friends and former co-workers are aging. I lose about one every couple of months (I also run with an older crowd and worked with a large group). I began wondering about my own affairs. Things like passwords for computers, bank accounts, online bill pay, etc. needed to be written down for my wife. I'm also an officer with a charity and wondered who would inherit my job if I were to pass. I wrote down a list of contacts, duties, etc. It then got weirder when I thought about what my final services would be like. As a family, we've casually and jokingly talked about this. I noted what songs I'd like to have played, who to officiate, etc. This also was a chance to write down a little note to my kids and wife giving them one last piece of advice and telling them what they mean to me. I bring this up in the event you have the same thoughts and concerns. I'd like to think they are common. If you too have had these thoughts and don't think it's normal, at least you know you're not alone. I had never had surgery and found myself suddenly concerned about "what if." I placed this in an envelope, marked it "in case of the worst," and put it in our family trust binder.
The day before surgery was the traditional bowel prep. It seemed to take better effect than those in the past. I started it earlier in the day than normal. As much "fun" as it was, I kept telling myself I'd never have to do this again. I made it through the prep, drank my broth, showered with Hibiclens, and tried to sleep. Laying in bed all night watching reruns, it was soon time to get up. Time for another shower then off across the bridge to the hospital. I went to the hospital with my daughter and wife. We checked in at 6:00 am. The waiting room was packed. It was kind of concerning that so many others were going to have the same type of day as I was. I was next led into the surgery ward and given more antiseptic towels to wipe down with. I changed into my paper gown and went to the bathroom as my gut was really rumbling. I tried to go but couldn't. I wiped myself and had a funny thought, "I'll never have to do this again. Our budget for toilet paper will be cut in half at least." I went back to my daughter and wife and we had a good laugh.
A short time later the surgeon and surgery team came in and introduced themselves and told us what they were going to do. I was wheeled out and said "see you in a while" to my wife and daughter. We entered the OR and I saw everyone I just met. I was lifted onto the surgery table. The table was something out of a sci-fi movie. Nothing like a traditional bed. I was lifted onto this and that was the last I remembered. I awoke about six hours later in recovery. My joints were stiff and aching. I was told to keep moving them, stretch as much as I can, that it will get better. I had laparoscopic surgery and was told that gas was pumped into my body cavity. The pain was due to residual gas. Once that pain went away I felt pretty good. No pain in the throat, no tubes down my nose, and no headache, all of which I was prepared for. A nurse asked if I had any questions. I had just one, "What's my roommate like?" I realized how lucky I was compared to the many others that I have read about and received advice from.
I went in on a Thursday and was told that I would get out on a Monday. Meals during the first night and following day were broth, broth, and more broth with Jello thrown in. My bag was filling about every 2-3 hours. Just what I was told to expect. I was also told it would slow once I started eating real food. I was cleared for a low-fiber diet. After eating and watching my bag, I saw that solid food was not necessarily helping. I was ready for bag emptying every two hours or so. This was being confirmed. My biggest concern was not being able to get enough sleep after leaving the hospital. One of the side effects of the prednisone I had taken was insomnia. I had since been placed on prescription strength sleeping meds. Even with these, once I wake up I stay awake. Having to empty a bag every few hours at night was a big concern. Not having the discharge slow was disappointing.
I met with doctors the next morning. I was told I was doing "amazingly well!" This was told to me by all of the different docs and nurses that worked on me after. I was told that I would be leaving a day earlier than expected if I'd like. After surgery, when I went to my room I began calling friends, parents, and family. They couldn't believe that I just came out of surgery. This was a shock to me also. I bring this up not to "pat myself on the back" but as a thanks for all who had posted their experiences. As I said earlier, I'm very lucky, fortunate, etc. The knowledge that others gave me prepped me for the worst. Maybe it being better than expected was a sigh of relief. I know there are rocky roads ahead.
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