So after confirmation from a nurse and two pharmacists, I finally called the doctor and described the incision area, deemed to be infected. I got an antibiotic and finally saw one of the doctors (not the busy surgeon) today.
She said something like, "oooooo yeeee" upon my revealing the bullet hole in my side. "You should see the deer!" said I.
She proceeded to cut away dead flesh and make sure the [word i can't remember] was in tact so that when i set off to clean it (as i have been doing non-stop) at home -- now with roter rooter and draino [[just kidding sortof]], I won't slip and go all the way into my GOOD ovary, being that the hole pretty much enters into my very guts and stuff. The red and oozy thing that it is. Nasty hole.
This is your nickel size hole encrusted in angry red flesh.
This is your nickel size hole encrusted in angry red flesh on drugs.
"Tell me when it hurts, because then I know we've hit live flesh," she said cutting. Okay sure. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. THERE we go! Let's do that again. That was as fun as the tilt-a-whirl at the mall carnival.
So I go back in a week. In the mean time it's more of the same: open it up, clean it out, close it up. Take antibiotic. No swimming. No baths. No no no no i don't smoke it no more. I'm tired of waking up.
I liked the doctor I saw today. My regular gyn, the in-demand surgeon who apparently is too busy to close his own incisions, was in surgery today.
I suppose hyperspecialists have their place. I just hope I can keep them out of my abdomen for a while.
Did I tell you that both of the two surgeons who operated on me said the same thing when they first saw the lousy job done on the big gaping hole incision? They said: "I didn't close that one."
Color me 'i should have figured there'd be a problem.'
Live, learn, and use hydrogen peroxide.
June 11, 2007