So two weeks ago today I was all gowned up ready to get a couple of cameras shoved up my orifices to check why I can’t hold onto iron, and the GI doc was going to inject some Botox while he was ferreting around in there.
I was supposed to go in two weeks before that but I had to reschedule, which was fortuitous as the hospital forgot to order the Botox and I would have come out of my internal photoshoot rather fucking pissed.
There was no prep required for the actual Botox procedure, I had to do the usual colonoscopy prep but I am glad/sorry to report (depending on which side of the fence you sit) that the prep was nothing unusual for me. Just a regular Monday night.
Oh gastroparesis. You fucking sonofabitch, not only are you like having gastroenteritis all the damn time it is like colonoscopy prep too! Fun times. But I could swing the other way which would be so. much. worse.
ANYWHOODLE. Enough about my bowel cleansing except to say…
good. MEANING EXCELLENT.
Lets back up a tad. So thankfully I had MPS sitting with me in the holding
cells corridor to keep me company, cause they didn’t quite know what to do with me and were all very fascinated with all of my ailments and other people were being gowned up and wandering in and then wheeled into surgery and I was just there.
And at one point when the anaesthetist came back for the second or third time I made up a bullshit story about someone I know who didn’t have her Botox done because they forgot to order it – because, well THEY FORGOT TO ORDER IT TWO WEEKS AGO AND I AM NOT GOING THROUGH THIS SHIT FOR NOTHING and I called twice to confirm they did and this shit is not my fucking job, and she was all *blank face* ‘um, I will go and check that for you’ and scurried off.
She came back all apologetic and smiley and was all ‘good thing you checked cause they forgot to order it from pharmacy!’ SO they HAVE it in the hospital, phew… cause apparently they have to get special permission from the government or some shit, just some fucker forgot to send it over from pharmacy.
Which is literally the next room over from where I am laying but took another two fucking hours to come.
FINALLY I was wheeled into the operating theatre where I had a wonderful time joking with the nurses while they tried to find a vein in my dehydrated hands. Two nurses recognised Orthostatic Intolerance as what the Yellow Wiggle, Greg Page, has and proceeded to The Wiggles impersonations which eased my nerves a lot until I was put into position on my side, knees up and then given a round thing to put in my mouth to protect my teeth to which I looked at my anaesthetist and said ‘fuck, am I going to be awake for this?’ and she laughed and said ‘no sweetie’ and the next I know I am in recovery.
High as a kite.
Talking about eating everything under the sun to nurses that have no clue what the fuck I am on about.
My GI doc came in an told me that I can eat normally now and that I have some gastritis and then left. If I was fully awake I would have asked him more, but OMG I WAS HALF ASLEEP. I don’t see him again until 21 March. Thank fuck for the internet.
The nurses were unsure of what I could eat after the Botox, so suggested I just stick to toast and soft foods for a few days, and to be honest I wasn’t feeling like eating anything anyway. I didn’t feel as bad as I was expecting – everyone was telling me I was going to feel horrendous, including my cardiologist and the nurse in the pre-admission clinic who said, and I quote ‘you will wish you were dead’, nice – but I am thinking that the couple of bags of saline I had probably helped tremendously.
And the fact that I am used to feeling like that anyways.
My stomach was sore and sort of crampy for a few days so I stuck to my usual gastroparesis diet for a week just to be sure.
Now we are two weeks down the track and I have had foods that I haven’t eaten in years.
RAW MOTHERFUCKING VEGGIES.
And NO NAUSEA.
And I haven’t vomited once.
It is insane. I keep wanting to revert back to my old diet because I am scared that I am doing something wrong, that I am going to hurt myself.
This is not a cure. I still have gastroparesis (and all of my other shizzle) and I still can only eat small meals and have all the GI upsets, the Botox only relaxes the muscle (sphincter) between the stomach and the small intestine allowing the food to move more freely and stopping it from just sitting there and virtually rotting (mmmmm tasty) which causes the nausea.
Nothing will cure the gastroparesis. But the Botox helps one of the most disabling symptoms and means that I can eat a wider range of foods and if it continues to work – fingers crossed – will mean I don’t end up with a tube or gastric stimulator, which are both things that I do not fucking want.
Apparently this will last from 3 weeks to 6 months, with some people reporting relief up to a year before having to go in for repeat procedures. Hoping like fuck I am one of the lucky ones.
And tonight I am having pizza, with the lot.