The Best Care Money Can Buy

I started writing this post at six weeks post op and that felt like such a milestone because there were so many limitations placed on me until that mark. Apparently my recovery has gone according to my doctor’s expectations and so all of those have now been lifted – and it feels glorious. There’s a whole blog post brewing on what recovery has truly looked like, both physically and mentally. 

But getting me to the place of even being able to contemplate recovering was my surgeon and the team from Pacific Endometriosis and Pelvic Surgery, in the beautiful Gig Harbor, who were incredible, and the surgical staff at St Anthony’s hospital who were also elite. While the cost had been a huge source of stress prior to the surgery, the level of care I received was nothing short of outstanding and, I guess, in line with what I would expect for the price paid. I will forever be grateful that I was able to get the funds together to make it happen. I wish everyone who needed it had access to the expertise of my doctors. 

For those interested in the surgery, I’ll share some highlights? Lowlights? Spotlights? Spotlights. Let’s go with spotlights on surgery. 

• Emptying your bowels to prepare for surgery is no joke (also, don’t try to go to Target shopping while in the middle of that)
• Being able to eat jello (jelly for my folks from home) was a godsend (both pre and post-op)
• 5.30am to check in for surgery is EARLY and my main concern was when were we going to feed and walk the dog…
• Booking an airbnb a 10 minute drive away from the hospital was an elite move
• I was given a HEATED blanket when I was in the pre-op room, so I wouldn’t get too chilly – it was touches like that which reminded me how much this was costing
• It was basically a 1:1 nurse to patient setup in both pre and post-op and they couldn’t have done more for me
• I had been so stressed about the surgery, about getting the IV, about the anaesthesia and very quickly on that morning I realised I really just needed to sit back and relax – I literally had to do nothing but chill the fuck out
• One of the last things I remember was my anaesthetist and my partner talking about playing rugby while I took the prescribed “champagne cocktail” and then went lights out
• I have a small glimpse of memory from the operating room and my overriding feeling was how friendly all the nurse were
• The entire surgery was laparoscopic and robotic, meaning the precision and effectiveness would be first class
• Coming round from surgery I knew my bladder had to work before they’d let me home and I was determined to get home asap, lest they charge me for an overnight stay ($$$$$) so as soon as that juice box was offered, I was sucking the life out of that apple juice 
• Unbeknownst to me, another great feature of the hospital was the patient status board, where my partner could check what stage I was in at anytime just by looking up my patient number, rather than having to track down a nurse for updates
• My surgeon reported the entire surgery outcomes to me when I was fresh into recovery so of course I have zero recollection of that, but she also went and delivered the same report to my partner who had the good sense to record it for me to listen to later
• We also got internal photos from during the surgery so now me AND my partner know what my uterus looks like for real… His comment “it really doesn’t look like those anatomical drawings”
• I was really hoping for some medal when at 11.45am I was being wheeled out to the car – 6 hours! I was only in there for 6 hours! I don’t know what the standard is but I had that prideful feeling you get when you nail the airport security line. Even going in for surgery I can’t just chill. 

With the surgery a success, five more days in Gig Harbor and two weeks off work; the recovery started. And after the relative ease of the surgery, recovery was less straightforward. Here are some lowlights:

• I couldn’t see straight for 3 days after the general anaesthetic – so if I sent you a text in those times, or received one from you, I definitely could not see it properly – it was blurred vision central so there went my plans to read a lot
• Sleep though, I did that excellently
• Having someone to administer my drugs appropriately and on schedule was a life saver, literally, I didn’t even know what day it was nevermind being able to figure out a multi-pill regimen
• Bowels. Just a general lowlight of recovery for me and the only thing in post-op that are still not 100% back to normal – likely due to the anaesthetic, the drugs (while I was on them) and then the tightness in my pelvic floor from the endo
• My appetite was a little hard to come by in the first week, there wasn’t a whole lot I felt like eating – shout out to jello though, and also anything that came in cups… noodles, mac and cheese, and pancakes (Kodiak power cups to be precise)
• Fresh air was such a struggle but such a joy – having the surroundings we did at the airbnb was idyllic, I could be outside in my pjs and robe and there was no one outside our household who would see me except the wild rabbits
• Bloating and gas is going to get you. I’d been warned about post-op gas, but I luckily managed to avoid that. It caught up with me though when we drove home 5 days later, the abdominal bloating and gas was almost more uncomfortable than the surgical incisions
• Speaking of which, I couldn’t wait for the glue to come off the six incisions I had (including the two small ones for the local anaesthetic they put into my pelvis), they looked so messy and big, but every time I went to try and pick a bit off I was terrified I was going to rip my incision so, probably sensibly, left them until they came off themselves
• Flowers, gifts, texts and visits (from friends and my Mum) brought me so much joy during the rollercoaster that is recovery, I felt incredibly loved. And cared for. 

Speaking of which, my care giver during all of this – the bowel prep protocol, the hospital waiting room, keeping friends and family updated on my progress,  the middle of the night questions about what pill to take, making sure I was eating even when I didn’t want to, and everything before and since – he has been incredible. We also joke that he’s best when he’s got something to do, and when he’s got something to do he gives it 100%. Well he took on the role as caregiver with such a level of consideration and prioritisation that I’m not sure how I will ever repay him. Not that he’s asking me to. 

After years or being single and taking care of myself, one of the best things about having a partner is that there’s someone there to take care of you. But one of the hardest things about having a partner is that there’s someone there to take care of you. This isn’t meant as a complaint, but as an acknowledgement of the change to go from being on your own (yes, with wonderful supportive friends but, otherwise, alone) to having someone who tells you that when you’re at 20% they’ll pick up the other 80%. The guilt about 20% being my average for the last year and a half has been immense. And now he had to hand hold me through surgery. And I’d do it for him in a heartbeat, but we’re not talking about that, we’re talking about someone doing it for me, which felt incredibly foreign. 

Before him, as long as whatever percent I had available to me included taking Gunner to pee and feeding him, I was good. I could wallow and couch rot without feeling like it impacted anyone. But the overwhelming feeling of someone being the 80% is relief, and also guilt. It is a huge comfort to have someone, unconditionally in your corner, at your lowest, when you’re struggling to find your own worth. He’s been there. But then I feel bad. Because I don’t want to be a half-present partner. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be someone’s responsibility. And yet, I have someone willingly doing all of that, and it’s something I’m still adjusting to. 

For years I felt tired, tired of doing it all, tired of being solely responsible, just really fucking exhausted. When single friends talk about those similar feelings, I am painstakingly aware of how it feels, and wish nothing more for them than the relief of a partner to share some of the weight of life. Which isn’t to say I don’t believe you can do it all on your own, but that’s a different blog post and quite frankly I’m not sure I would have been able to do this on my own.

And so at the end (hopefully) of all of this, while I may have struggled with the healthcare system in Canada, my lasting feeling is one of great care – by both my partner, family and friends and my medical team. Being in the grateful position of being able to opt for private healthcare and enjoy the incredible level of care that comes with that, is something I will forever be appreciative of. I wouldn’t hesitate to go back to the US clinic or hospital for future requirements, and I would absolutely recommend everyone having someone who will joke with you about “fun farts” rather than make you feel awkward for your bowel struggles.