If you had asked me prior to this weekend what kind of race report I thought I'd be writing, the LAST thing I thought my report would include would be the letters D-N-S: Did Not Start. I still can't believe I just wrote that . . . still shocked (and under heavy medication).
My gf and I had a great time at the LVM Pasta Party and were feeling extra carbed up and completely ready. We had already visited the expo and registered her for the half and we were feeling pretty good. It was early, so we decided to walk back to the hotel via the Forum Shoppes at Caesars.
Half-way through our tour of the mall, I started to feel side-stitch and I knew that it was the start of a gallbladder (gb) attack but also knew that I could fend it off with some Pepcid. I have had these attacks before and, while not pretty, you can ride them out and still be fine the following morning. And my girlfriend knows about them so she knew to get me some tea on the way back to the hotel and let me ride it out while going about her business.
We made it back to the hotel and that's when I began to vomit. This is the ugly side of weight-loss that they never tell you about. Gallbladder attacks are very common for someone in my situation - they're absolutely horrendous. And this was no ordinary attack, it was particularly strong and kept me awake the entire night. When I wasn't writhing in pain on the bed & on the floor, I was in the bathroom bent over the toilet. Finally, around 6AM, my need for sleep overtook the writhing pain enough for me to sleep for 10 minutes. This continued for an hour but it was definitely not restful sleep - it was simply one body function (sleep) winning over another one (pain) for brief moments (10 minutes max).
At this point the race was shot, so I wanted to salvage the most I could from the weekend and turned to my gf and said, "it's hospital time". Talking about it afterwards, we realized that when we decided to go to the hospital, we both thought that we'd be back in our hotel room sometime that day. They've patched me up before and I thought that would happen again and I'd take it back up with my doc in Los Angeles.
Oh no . . . not the case at all.
In the ER they ran me through some blood tests along with an ultrasound and belly x-rays. Most importantly, they also introduced me to a wonderful drug called Dilaudid - described as a "supercharged morphine" - to me it meant instant pain relief! I was just so exhausted after being up all night that I fell asleep during my ultrasound; the lack of pain finally let me sleep!
Within a very short time-span, the ER docs told me of their conclusion and their need to admit me and operate on me the following day (Monday). That came as a shock at that point that my initial reaction (and my gf) was to decline. It was a horrible attack, but I was so far from home and just didn't feel comfortable doing that. On the other hand, I also knew that I was in no condition to get back to Los Angeles. So, after some back-and-forth with the docs, I was admitted overnight to see if I improved and we would re-assess on Monday. I have never been admitted to a hospital and was completely freaked out at this point.
Monday came and I really only got worse. At this point, my pain was being controlled but my white blood cell count was sky high and I was running a 101 fever. On top of that, my ultrasound showed that my gallbladder was highly inflamed - in other words, my body was fighting a massive infection. I spoke with the surgeon that afternoon and we decided to move forward with the surgery and he scheduled it for Tuesday morning. I immediately got my hands on a Merck Manual and read up on the procedure. Theres just something about that mental preparation that helps calm me down in these types of situations.
Here's the main reason why I scared: Most gb surgery can be done laproscopically and the recovery time is actually very reasonable. However, 20% of them must be done via traditional methods and the recovery (and pain) is quite different. The surgeon gave me indications that it would be very borderline in my case; he could not rule out the possibility of needing to slice me open in the traditional way. He wouldn't know until he got started with the surgery and would have to decide then. This is not the kind of gambling I had in mind when I came to Las Vegas!
On Tuesday morning, my gf was great about keeping me calm for the surgery. I wasn't in a great place mentally, but I knew that it had to be done. Fortunately, everyone in the surgery ward was really nice and I felt fairly comfortable going into it. Naturally, the last thing I remember is having an oxygen mask put on my face and told that some strong meds were being put through my IV.
I finally woke up about 2 hours later in the recovery room and was in surprisingly little pain. I took this as an encouraging sign because it most likely meant that my surgery was done laproscopically. Sure enough, the surgeon visited me a few minutes later and confirmed this. He also told me that it was a very tough operation for him; my gb was highly inflamed and he had to struggle to keep the operation as a laproscopic procedure. It was also so inflamed that the incision around my belly button was about 30% longer than normal because it had to be large enough to accomodate the gb. Thats a trade-off I'm willing to accept because I didnt want to be sliced up, period!
I was kept in the hospital for just one more day and since the weight of the surgery was off my mind, I was able to sleep (the medication also helped). The next morning, I had my first meal in over 4 days. I wasn't exactly starving since the medication was suppressing my appetite, but I did feel a surge of energy since I really had 0 calories in my system. Runny eggs and dry muffins never tasted so good!
I was finally discharged from the hospital and my gf and I stayed in Vegas for one extra night just in case I had to run back to the hospital. She took great care of me in the room with some crackers and tea and I felt comfortable enough for the car ride home. 5 hours later we were back in Los Angeles and in my own bed.
Finally, I have to put something in here about Treasure Island. Since we were due to check out on Monday, we needed the room for a few more nights. Once my gf explained the situation, they gave us a really low rate (under $50/night), told us that we could have that rate for as long as we needed and didn't hassle us about the fact that my gf didn't physically have my credit card. To me, when a company can listen to individual needs like this, it's a sign of a quality organization. Having my gf at a safe location without us having to worry about paperwork or whether it was a high rate really helped my mind - they're a great hotel.
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