To quote my mom, I was "last in line when gastrointestinal parts were handed out". If you've followed my blog for a while, you might remember a few of my tales of a bad gut. A little less than two weeks before school started, I had a procedure done called ERCP, in which an endoscope is put down my esophagus through my stomach and into the duodenum (the beginning of the small intestine). A smaller scope is passed through the bile ducts and pancreatic ducts. Since having my gallbladder removed, I was experiencing biliary reflux and was woken up most mornings with nausea only relieved by throwing up. Clearly this was not ideal, so my amazing GI doc scheduled me for an ERCP. Once he was inside, he saw something in my bile duct that was causing some obstruction. He removed that, put a stent in, and cut something called my sphincter of Oddi, that was narrowed. The sphincter of Oddi is where the common bile duct and pancreatic duct intersect, and since my common bile duct was "blocked", bile was not draining down and instead pooling in my stomach, causing the nausea and vomiting. It was no fun. However, with the procedure this a chance of developing pancreatitis simply because of how close the pancreas is to being irritated. Well, my pancreas sure as heck got angry and was rather inflamed. I ended up having to spend five days in the hospital, followed by a few ER visits the next week. It was the worst way to end summer.
The length of my stay, my dad never left my side. He stayed with me each day and each night, doing everything from brushing my hair, helping me to the bathroom, taking me on wheelchair rides outside, never once complaining. We watched the Olympics together, he would eat while I slept, he made sure the nurses came as fast as possible when I needed them. The day after the procedure was particularly horrible and I was so sick. The pain was unbearable and no medication was cutting it. I was beyond nauseated and experienced intense bouts of dry heaving, but also lots of vomiting. Dad sat next to me the whole time, holding my hair, holding my hand, grabbing my sick bags, trying to ease my pain. There wasn't much anyone could do, pancreatitis simply takes time to resolve itself, but my dad's constant presence was healing enough. When I was really missing my pets on Thursday, Dad went down to the gift shop and bought me the softest little cat. He then proceeded to make pretend cat noises in every attempt to make me laugh. Later, he found the therapy dogs and made sure they came to visit me. Friday night, I was incredibly thirsty and wasn't allowed anything by mouth. The nurses said I could have ice chips but only a few. I was starting to crave flavor since I hadn't had any food since Tuesday night. Sneaky ol' dad went to the nutrition room and poured a little cranberry juice over my ice chips. He went out of his way every day to make my worst days better.
Nights were tough for me, and the Benadryl I would take to sleep wore off by 2am and the pain was alive. One night, I woke up to the sound of "Neon Moon" playing, and saw Dad sleeping, squeezed on the tiny, hard couch next to me. Hearing the song made me think of a time we danced to it together at a father/daughter dance, where bagel bites and Oreos were served, 7-year old me got to wear a fancy dress and click-clack shoes, and the whole time I was dancing, I stood on his feet, looking up on him as he led the way. Here I was, a decade later, still needing my dad just as much as when I was little.
This one's for you, Dad. Thanks for being the greatest guy in my life. I love you more than you will ever know!
xoxo
Hannah
The length of my stay, my dad never left my side. He stayed with me each day and each night, doing everything from brushing my hair, helping me to the bathroom, taking me on wheelchair rides outside, never once complaining. We watched the Olympics together, he would eat while I slept, he made sure the nurses came as fast as possible when I needed them. The day after the procedure was particularly horrible and I was so sick. The pain was unbearable and no medication was cutting it. I was beyond nauseated and experienced intense bouts of dry heaving, but also lots of vomiting. Dad sat next to me the whole time, holding my hair, holding my hand, grabbing my sick bags, trying to ease my pain. There wasn't much anyone could do, pancreatitis simply takes time to resolve itself, but my dad's constant presence was healing enough. When I was really missing my pets on Thursday, Dad went down to the gift shop and bought me the softest little cat. He then proceeded to make pretend cat noises in every attempt to make me laugh. Later, he found the therapy dogs and made sure they came to visit me. Friday night, I was incredibly thirsty and wasn't allowed anything by mouth. The nurses said I could have ice chips but only a few. I was starting to crave flavor since I hadn't had any food since Tuesday night. Sneaky ol' dad went to the nutrition room and poured a little cranberry juice over my ice chips. He went out of his way every day to make my worst days better.
Nights were tough for me, and the Benadryl I would take to sleep wore off by 2am and the pain was alive. One night, I woke up to the sound of "Neon Moon" playing, and saw Dad sleeping, squeezed on the tiny, hard couch next to me. Hearing the song made me think of a time we danced to it together at a father/daughter dance, where bagel bites and Oreos were served, 7-year old me got to wear a fancy dress and click-clack shoes, and the whole time I was dancing, I stood on his feet, looking up on him as he led the way. Here I was, a decade later, still needing my dad just as much as when I was little.
This one's for you, Dad. Thanks for being the greatest guy in my life. I love you more than you will ever know!
xoxo
Hannah
