Yes, that 13 inch tube I'm holding was inserted into my chest cavity and drained fluid out of my body for 8 days straight. I expected some weird noise, or overpowering stench as the tube was pulled. I also expected to feel some degree of pain. Neither happened. The main tube was pulled. No drama. It was pretty anticlimactic. My mom and my friends, Polly and Steph, were here and able to get in on the action. My epidural was capped and turned off (but still left in), and then I began the transition on to oral pain medication. In the morning there will be another x-ray taken to make sure fluid is not building up around my lung. If it looks good, the second tube will be pulled and the epidural will be taken out. I'm told if all that happens in the morning, I could be home by early afternoon. Crossing my fingers. You know, when I was told this part of the process would probably be the most difficult, they weren't kidding. It's 3am and I'm feeling a good amount of pain, and my stomach is queasy. Not a good combination. I told my mom it actually might be quite comical, to watch me throw up, then squeal in pain from throwing up. I just keep telling myself this won't last forever. I'm on the homestretch, rounding 3rd base and heading for home. It's just a few yards more until I get there (Jake will love that I used a baseball analogy.)
I'm a strong-willed woman, wife, mom of three, LDS, U of U grad, runner, gymnastics fanatic, card maker, piano player, slightly OCD, singer, chocolate lover, office manager, cancer survivor, and friend. I started this blog to keep in touch with family and friends, and it slowly turned into my own personal therapeutic outlet. Nothing better than typing out your thoughts, trying to make sense of life.