Peritoneal Dialysis Catheter surgery
So, last Wednesday I dropped by the Riverside Campus of the Ottawa Hospital at the crack of dawn to have Peritoneal Dialysis Catheters surgically implanted in my body. Y’know, I could have just stayed home and worked remotely, but I thought it would be fun to get some good drugs and have some holes cut into me.
Seriously though, my kidney function is dropping (somewhere around an eGFR of 15 and on the way down) and my doctors think it’s a good idea to prepare. I really can’t argue, even though I have been dreading being at this point from about 2008 onwards. Side note: I have learned from experience that sticking my head in the sand and hoping that a medical condition will simply go away does not work. Who knew?
Anyway, they ran the Riverside mostly like a well-oiled machine and even took me in early. Just like I hoped, the last thing I remember hearing was, “you’re going to get sleepy now.” I then woke up in recovery. Or post-op. Which one comes first? I can’t remember. All that time watching “Gray’s Anatomy” and what do I have to show for it?
While I lay there experiencing a rare moment of being, “Comfortably Numb”, I felt around my abdomen to take stock of my body parts and make sure that they didn’t remove anything that I wanted to keep. I found three dressings, and wisely left them alone (see, I can be smart when I want to be). A nurse noticed my signs of life and came over to ask if I needed anything. I tried to say, “water”, and my throat rebelled in pain and no sound came out. Ah, right, they intubated me. I remember from having a hernia repaired around 2022, that left me with one hell of a sore throat. I mouthed the word, and as the nurse spoke “sick person”, she understood fully.
Swallowing the water was painful, even with the drugs still in my system. Damn, how big was the tube they put down my throat? Did it have, like, spikes on it or something?? Apparently the body does not appreciate being treated this way, and calls in reinforcements to repair the throat faster, otherwise known as inflammation. Well, if that is the worst part of this whole affair, then I’ll take it.
Yeah, no such luck. Hey, fun fact: Did you know that general anethesia can cause an inability to void your bladder? I didn’t, but I do now. Yes, I walked over to the bathroom in my sexy surgical gown, locked the door, sat down, told myself to pee like I always do and have for over 50 years now, and…nothing. Seriously, nothing happened. “Ok, don’t panic,” I told myself and walked back to the nurses, and told them. They were not surprised, as it is apparently quite common. “Really?” I thought, I don’t remember that one in the fine print.
So, they solved the immediate problem with a fun catheter that no guy ever wants in that particular location, after confirming with a quick ultrasound that my bladder was indeed full. I then spent hours drinking water, walking around and making repeated failed attempts to the washroom in an attempt to prove that I was suddenly ok. It didn’t work.
So they went back to the really inconveniently located plastic tube, connected to a bag, and sent me home with a planned follow-up in a few days (days!). I don’t think I’ve ever been so uncomfortable in my life. Plastic tubes were not meant to go there, and my body agreed.
Don’t get me wrong. The staff at the Riverside, especially the nurses, were amazing. I now have a drink that I have named the “Mila”, which is ginger-ale and cranberry juice. Thanks Mila. Oh, and if you want your urine to stay yellow, do not drink cranberry juice. It will freak you out.
I had the unbelievably inconvenient plastic tube removed on Monday, and I am very wary of any more problems. But, I have read that you don’t just return to normal immediately after removal, because after days of not having to work, the muscles involved can weaken, and it can take a couple of days to return to normal. So, I’m hanging in there.
I suspect that this is the tip of the iceberg for inconvenience in my life coming up, so I’m going to have to learn to just roll with it. Maybe writing about it like this is a good way to both share my experiences and mentally “unload” myself. I suspect that I have shared quite enough on this topic for one day, so I’ll stop here.
I am tired, sore, a little scared and very thankful for the nurses at the Riverside that took such good care of me. Don’t worry, we all know who the real heroes in the hospital are.
In case you’re wondering, the dialysis catheters are buried under my skin for the time being. When they are needed there will be a quick procedure to cut me open again and bring them out. It takes 4-6 weeks of healing before we get to that point. I again am hoping to never get to that point, but I no longer have my head in the sand, so I’m learning.
And since I have a buddy who, I’ve learned, has been all through this…hey Sumi, anything else I should know? I am gaining great empathy for what he, and millions of people, have already had to go through. My selfish preference would of course be to remain blissfully ignorant, but that’s apparently not in the cards for me.
Mike out.