Non-CPAP Forum 20 Archived Posting

Posted by Jeremy on January 03, 2007 at 08:39:40:

This posting is not for those easily offended at frank discussion of bodily functions. What follows is a graphic discussion of a very scary part of my post-MMA experiences. Now that it is over we can laugh a little.
I am writing this in the hopes that it will save others the agony and perils of falling prey to opiate-induced constipation in a time when their body is not strong. If you wish to learn from Elvis (yes, the King has left the bathroom) and myself, read on. However, if you feel that this topic is too sensitive/insensitive, or otherwise inappropriate, please hit the "back" button on your browser now.
I feel that my humble sense of pride, even in this forum of “nominal anonymity,” is a low price to pay if this helps to save somebody's life (yes, life). Plus, I tried to make it a little fun for those with the "intestinal fortitude" to stick it out.
Opiates cause constipation. This is apparently due, in part, to reducing blood flow to relatively important parts of the body such as the colon. I have some (read: "too much")prior experience with surgeries and so has my wife. Each time we remind ourselves not to eat too heavily prior to the hospital stay and to take stool softeners, fiber, juices, and other relatively non-aggressive digestive aids as we feel appropriate. Because we have both experienced rather horrific post-surgery bodily function related events in the past, we also discontinue opiate use as soon as the pain is tolerable. I did the same after my MMA and thought all was "going" well after my bowels eliminated slightly on the fourth day. On the fifth day I had no such results and proceeded to drink more fruit juices. On the sixth day it became apparent that all was not necessarily so well. Then disaster peeked in for a little look-see and a poke or two at my personal life. I had gotten on the throne without my cell-phone in my pocket and I was stuck. This was bad planning, for, I was fairly well "obstructed" and needed help. Lesson number one: take a phone everywhere (yes, everywhere) that you go. My wife was in the room at the far end of the house and didn't hear me banging on the walls for help.
After something in the range of 45 minutes to an hour, I managed to get up without tearing any vital tissues and asked my wife to go to the store and get an enema. Yes, it was time to use old-school "science" to help ease my burdens. Lesson number two: get enemas ready in the home cabinet prior to entering the hospital (hey, didn’t we already learn that the last two or three times?).
Well, after my wife was up much of the night with me for the last few days, she was understandably tired. So when she had to get up from her afternoon rest to go to the store, I had absolutely no question as to what to do with the enema. In fact, her instructions were startlingly explicit.
OK, now I was armed for bear and ready to get the show on the road (I told you this was going to be graphic, right?). I then sat down on the throne again and waited for what I thought would be a cinch. As it were, it turned out that this could well be my "Waterloo." I shortly noticed that my hands were shaking and my field of vision was growing rather narrow. I retrieved the cell-phone from my pocket (see "lesson number one", above) and called my wife on our home phone. "Honey, come here" I mumbled through my tightly banded jaws. "What?" came her reply. Oh, great. Here I really need help, and I'm talking like my mouth is full of it, too. "Please come here" I returned, and this time, the message was clear. She knew I wasn't asking her to join me for light conversation.
I had something of a dilemma on my hands (or wherever). I couldn't get up for fear of tearing my colon (for the uninitiated, let's just sum this up by saying that it's a bad thing to do, OK?). I also couldn't stay where I was at without immediate help as I was really fading fast. Feinting, and the subsequent act of falling, was rather low on my list of daily activities and was also expressly against doctor’s orders.
By the time she ran across the house to where I was, I was a spooky color combination of ashen/blue/gray/green/yellow and was soaking wet and trembling hard. My hands and face felt ice cold to my wife. My core temperature had also plummeted along with my blood pressure (um, that’s bad, OK?). With the insult of effort being added to the injury of recent surgery my body was retreating in shock to the stress. The blood was leaving my extremities and my brain was on the verge of doing a partial reset in an effort to preserve vital functions.
So, with the love that only a lifelong partner can have, here my wife is holding my head to keep me from falling over and possibly busting my face or worse. The telephone was in her hand, ready to call 911, and the fire house is literally around the corner.
Knowing that I had help at hand and was likely to live through it, even if I started some minor internal bleeding at the surgery site or went into full-blown shock, gave me the courage I needed to give one last effort. Soon it all was over except for the crying.
As I washed up, I realized that her love for me was deeper than even I suspected. Lesson number three: A good support system is absolutely essential to your recovery.

Follow Ups:

• Re: Opiates & Bodily Functions (mature) perchancetodream 18:35 1/09/07 (0)
• Re: Opiates & Bodily Functions (mature) westernjoe 07:36 1/04/07 (0)
• Re: Opiates & Bodily Functions (mature) seattlebill 11:40 1/03/07 (0)
• Re: Opiates & Bodily Functions (mature) sleepy-in-seattle 09:06 1/03/07 (0)

---

Copyright ©1995-2007 Sleepnet.com., All rights reserved