FIRST 24 HOURS

Look. 
Surgery is messy and hard. Been there, done that. What is impossible is not being able to breathe. From the first hour of consciousness, I struggled to breathe. I was constantly monitored for oxygen, so I was getting it in, but I was working hard to do it. 

My nose was swollen shut and bleeding since it was widened during surgery. No nose breathing meant the burden was 100% on my tightly banded shut mouth. I couldn't open my mouth but a crack, enough to shimmy in a water-filled syringe and slowly drip water into my desert dry mouth. It was like the absolutely worst nights of sleep apnea, waking up every few minutes because my mouth dried out from breathing. 

Since I couldn't speak, I tried telling the nursing staff I was dying from dry mouth by writing it out. Unfortunately, I was loopy as h-e-double hockey sticks from meds, so no one knew what my incoherent scribbles on paper meant. I was on my own to figure out what to do. 

Also, although I had been told the hospital post-surgery staff was well-trained for jaw surgery care, I didn't find that to be true. My staff was mostly traveling nurses who had zero experience on comfort solutions to my specific sufferings. Since I needed a constant stream of water to keep my parched mouth wet, I was sucking in huge amounts of air with every swallow. In no time, my belly swelled up like I had a colonoscopy, and I was as miserable as an infant with colic. My stomach and chest hurt too much to be comfortable in bed, yet I was too exhausted to walk. I forced myself to do laps around the hospital wing because it was the only way to belch up the air pressing on my abdomen. I really needed to be laid across someone's lap and have them pat my back to get the air out. Babies have all the luck. 

Since I had no way to communicate with staff, they assumed I was a rockstar patient working on mobility. Reality was, I was desperate to relieve my pain and walking/standing was all I had. In the first 12 hours I experimented with the least amount of water I needed to be mouth comfortable and I was able to write out "gel for mouth dryness" to the staff. I was given small catsup packets of gel (that I struggled to open. Stupid slippery packets.) along with mouth sticks I was supposed to fit into my tightly closed, swollen mouth. Nope. 
Not gonna work. 
With exhausting experimenting, I was able to squeeze the moistening gel into a tiny corner of my mouth and use my tongue to spread it around. Finally, RELIEF! 

Then I was set. Between applying mouth gel every 20 minutes and constantly dripping water, I was able to take small naps through the first night. The nurse kept coming in, telling me I should try to sleep. Uhh....#$%^&*@ lady! If I could sleep, don't you think I would? The tv had 6 cable channels that were garbage, so I worked on changing channels to keep my mind off the panic I had being locked in a body I was struggling to help. Thank Gawd I had a private room. I can't imagine doing this with a roommate. 

I had purchased a white board for communicating, but the staff didn't know it was in my overnight bag and Rob wasn't around for a while after surgery. It was just me and staff. I struggled to get my bag on one of my hourly bathroom trips (I had to pee constantly from the saline IV drip and the amount of water I was drinking) and pulled out the white board. 

Huzzah! Clear communication on the way. 

Stupid cheap arse markers. UGH. 

I bought the white board and markers online at the suggestion of others who had the same surgery. The problem was the markers were dried out garbage. Unusable. I was able to use the staff's white board markers located in my room, but they were all nearly dead too. Not one decent marker in the joint! 

When Rob left for home the first night, I sent him off with instructions to get me professional WORKING white board markers. Thankfully, he follows directions like a champ and by morning I was fully conversant with staff. Just one long, sleep-deprived night to get through. Just me and my dripping water syringe hanging out of my mouth. 

Never peed so often in my life. The staff was happy I was well-hydrated. Ok. Whateves. 

I was supposed to leave the hospital the next morning, but doc wanted me to hang around til the afternoon because my belly was so swollen from air, I had a headache they wanted to monitor for a bit, and my eyes were swelling shut. I panicked when the doc said I would be blind for 3-4 days!!!!
WTF????

I already couldn't talk, now I was going to be blind with my eyes swollen shut for days? How the heck was that supposed to work? I love Rob, we've been married 36 years (thanks, we do feel lucky/amazed) but no one would accuse him of being a mind reader.

 I still relied on constantly dripping water in a syringe, the moistening mouth gel, and regular infusions of liquid pain meds. We haven't even gotten to bathroom, showering, comfort in bed, etc, etc, etc. The thought I was supposed to just suck it up and hope Rob would intuit my needs was mind-blowing. 

The good news is by the second afternoon, my eyes swelled to slits but I could still see out of one eye enough I could write on the white board. Then the swelling started reducing. Whew! So, so close and a major "No one mentioned that could happen." I was released from the hospital and we voomed-voomed for home to our boat in Seattle. 

Oh yeah...we live on a boat in a marina. I was dreading walking my ice bandaged face through the parking lot and down the dock to our boat. Thankfully, no one was around, and I was able to get home without drama. This face would have been a bit much to explain to our close-knit boating neighbors. 

On the way to home sweet home. First 24 hours survived. High misery, zero likes.