I'm Alive - Warning, Long

Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of others, I
*am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes in the middle of
all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the post Ben made. Since then
I've been totally incommunicado, physically and mentally, and unaware of
anything outside of my hospital bed. After *forty-four* days in the
hospital, I'm finally home.. which doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping back
into the group totally, because I have so much to do and catch up on and
because of physical and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to do is
getting my fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them. Archer
completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me go from
the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors' appointments and/or a
quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me. Sammy is too much of a
pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy is lukewarm to me, but he
was never a cuddling cat to begin with. Jessie cares only for Ben - always
has, always will. And Demi is as Demi always was, afraid of her own shadow.



[Sidebar: the reason the cats were *SO* traumatized is that, two weeks into
my hospital stay, Ben had a heart attack (and was subsequently diagnosed
with diabetes), called 911, and was hospitalized for 5 days (he is "OK" now
but his heart still isn't beating correctly and in a couple of weeks he'll
have to go back into the hospital for them to "shock" his heart back into
the correct rhythm, and he has to take medications for that and the
diabetes). It took 2 whole days to arrange for his mother to be driven by
his sister from Arkansas to feed, water and scoop for the cats. They went
for 2 days without any food at all (from now on there will be a plan in
place to handle a double emergency like this - too late to "fix" the feeling
of abandonment my fur-babies had to have felt). Fortunately, they were *SO*
well fed before that that it didn't cause any drastic weight loss or health
issue.]



Anyway, for those of you interested, here is the complete, *TRUE* story of
what I've been through.



First, this had *NOTHING* to do with gastric bypass surgery. If you
remember, about 6(?) months ago I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart
Failure with Left Ventricular Thrombus (a blood clot inside of the ventricle
chamber of my heart). After being on blood thinners for a couple of months,
my cardiologist said that the blood clot was gone and he discontinued the
use of blood thinners (baaaaaaad idea). The blood clot didn't go away, it
broke up and moved to various parts of my body. At least two lodged into
the blood vessels providing oxygen to my intestinal tract. The first few
feet (upper small intestines) and the last few feet (colon) became necrotic
(died).



For the longest time doctors (*several* specialists, x-rays, MRIs, CAT
scans, etc.) told me I just had constipation and sent me home with
laxatives. On Thursday, February 17, Ben came downstairs to find me
unconscious on the floor. He rushed me to the ER and they did a number of
tests and *STILL* didn't come up with an accurate diagnosis. Finally, a GP
from my PCP's office came in to look at me prior to sending me home with
laxatives, because I still wouldn't regain consciousness (I guess they
thought I was faking being in a coma???!!). She did a physical examination
and when she pressed on the bottom right of my stomach I cried out even
though I was still unconscious. She thought "appendicitis". But when she
pressed on the upper left of my stomach I arched myself almost of the
examining table and screamed like a banshee, again, even though I was still
unconscious.



Warning, this may get just a little anatomically gross for those who are
sensitive to that - I'll try to make it as clinical as possible.



After that she order a special MRI with special intravenous dye that showed
the blood vessels supplying the intestinal tract. It showed not only the
blocked blood vessels, but also showed that my entire intestinal tract was
blocked with fecal matter without an inch even halfway empty. In fact, the
necrotic parts were filled to *TEN TIMES* their normal diameter. In one of
those spots the intestines had broken open, dumping contaminated matter into
the abdominal cavity (peritonitis). That was the cause of the "coma" - they
called it "septic shock".



They called an abdominal surgical specialist out of his bed in the middle of
the night (and might I say I owe my life to this Indian gentleman - he *has*
to be one of the best surgeons alive to have pulled me away from death like
he did). He looked at all the test results (quickly) and came to talk to
Ben to tell him I needed surgery. Ben said 'OK, when do you want to set it
up?'. The doctor said 'you don't understand, when I'm finished talking to
you, or in a few moments, I'm going directly to the surgical suite and
scrubbing in for immediate, emergency surgery'. He then told Ben that he
shouldn't get his hopes up because of the surgery, that there was only a
very, *VERY* slim chance that I would live through it (most people die
almost immediately from peritonitis). He told Ben to start contacting my
loved ones and to prepare them and himself for the announcement of my death.
[He also had to do a second surgery on the following Tuesday, after some of
the swelling and inflammation had gone down, to "clean up" anything he
missed and to temporarily reroute my colon until it healed enough to
reverse.]



I don't know if it's because I've been through so many medical issues in my
life so my body is used to recovering from very traumatic shocks, or if I'm
just blessed with a genetically strong constitution, but somehow I did
survive the surgery. Even so, the doctors told Ben that it was very, *VERY*
iffy that I would survive, much less recover from the surgery. I was still
in "septic shock", the reason for my "coma. I was in ICU, unconscious, for
two weeks, then in a "step-down unit" for two weeks after I (sort of)
regained consciousness, then in a SNiF (skilled nursing facility) until last
night.



When I 'woke up' after two weeks, I found that I had huge chunks of memory
that had just disappeared (things like my *CATS' NAMES*, even - and the
latest I could remember was the fall of 2010 and I was fuzzy even about that
(I still can't remember how to use our cable remote)). Thankfully, quite a
bit of that has come back, but I'm still missing a *LOT* of memory and still
have problems committing anything to memory - my short-term memory has been
compromised. I still have problems with my speech and pretty bad aphasia
(sometimes I'll not only forget the word I was trying to say, but will
replace that word with a completely inappropriate word).



I was also paralyzed on my right side - I had to have two nurses come and
move me or turn me on my side to relieve the bed sores I'd developed (I
still have one, the deepest, on my heel that is necrotic, but we're keeping
it covered with sealant in hope that it will heal from the inside out - if
it opens I'll have to have more surgery(s) to clean it out, and bed sores
tend to get septic/toxic very, very quickly). The cause of the paralysis
and memory loss is that I lost a lot of oxygen to my brain at some point in
the septic shock coma - more on this in a little bit. It's about the same
consequences as when someone has a stroke.



I also found: my hands were "restrained" because I was intubated and unable
to breathe on my own (it was two weeks before they removed the breathing
tube and put me on plain oxygen); an "ileostomy" bag attached to my side
because my colon had been (hopefully) temporarily rerouted until (three
months from the initial surgery) it can be reversed; an open abdominal wound
10 inches long x 3 inches wide open x 1 inch deep (you can actually see the
layers of skin and fat and body tissue inside of it); 2 "J Tubes" to drain
the wound; a "PEG tube" (a feeding tube going directly into my stomach from
my side into which they poured liquid nourishment); a "PIC Line" (a
"permanent" intravenous tube on the underside of my left arm that had three
"feeds" going to various places, one being the vena cava); and a Foley
catheter. The "J Tubes" came out after 2.5 weeks, the "PEG Line" came out
after 3.5 weeks, the Foley catheter came out 5 days ago, and the "PIC Line"
came out yesterday. That still leaves me with the open wound and the
ileostomy bag. I'll have to have home nursing come out every day to clean
and re-dress the wound and take care of the bed sore on my heel, another
nurse to help me care for the ileostomy bag and appliances, a physical
therapist for over-all strength and movement, and an occupational therapist
for fine motor movement control.



Now, the paralysis... I've gotten a great deal of movement back (I can now
sit up, rise from a sitting position if my seat is high enough, and walk a
limited distance using a walker). But, I still can't raise my right arm
even an inch from the table when I have it laying out in front of me... my
right shoulder wants to "hitch up" in a shrug even when I'm resting, but
especially when I try to move my arm (it's a bad habit to use my body to
move my arm and my PT fusses constantly at me because of that). However, I
can still move my right hand - I just have to adjust the height of whatever
I'm working on with my right hand.



I'm hopeful that the areas of my brain that were damaged because of oxygen
deprivation can be "re-routed" to compensate and that I'll get closer and
closer to "normal" the longer I do OT/PT and mental exercises.



Well, it's taken me over two hours to compose this post because of all of
the above, so you can understand if, as I said, I don't just jump back into
the group as much as I used to. I just thank all that's holy that I have
recovered as much as I have.



So that's it, that's the whole *TRUE* story of what I've gone through, so I
hope I can bypass another "gastric bypass is good/bad" debate. But just
FTR, I would advise anyone to forgo gastric bypass unless their health is in
danger and unable to respond to any other weight-loss methods (and, yes,
there are some people for whom gastric bypass is used to save their lives -
the abdominal surgery has caused me to look up everything I can find about
abdominal surgery and GB is a large part of that data now-a-days).



Thank you for sticking around to read to the bottom of this post, it's
extremely boring to listen to someone else's medical problems. I just
wanted to set the record straight and tell the story to anyone who might be,
for various reasons, interested in my tale.


--
Hugs,



CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped



See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/



Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net

I'm so happy to know you're still with us! Purrs for your continued
recovery, and purrs for Ben's recovery too. I would say it sounds like
you've both been to hell and back but I don't think you're back yet.

--
Adrian

Oh, I forgot to quote the original post that DH had made about this. FTR,
what he described as being conscious "awake, responding, complaining" etc.,
I have no memory of so I considered it being unconscious - to me, those
first two weeks in ICU never happened.

Also, it's going to be "at least" three *months* from my original first
surgery before the surgeon can "reattach" my colon (and that is only a hope
that it can be reattached at all). His two requirements before doing
surgery is that the abdominal wound be completely healed and that I am
gaining weight. I have to gain *at least* 20 to 30 pounds, a fourth again
my current body weight. Before this happened I was down to 89 pounds!!!
I'm now up to 104 pounds, but being 5'5.5" my ideal weight is between 125
and 135 pounds. I feel like I'm eating constantly, but putting on weight is
almost impossible (I am missing *THREE FEET* of my intestines, after the
second surgery, because of this medical horror I've been through).

Anyway, here is Ben's original post and aside from the "conscious" issue,
which we disagree on, and time frames he mentioned, everything is exactly as
it happened.

"Catnipped was rushed to the emergency room on Thursday around noon. 10:30PM
Thursday night they found out a portion of her intestine had died due to no
circulation. By midnight she was being operated on and had two and a half
feet of intestine removed. She has infections in her abdomen, blood and
kidneys, her body temperature is a little over 93. As the doctor explains it
to me her condition is beyond critical. If she makes it through the 1st 2
weeks her prognosis will be much better. She is looking at a minimum 1 week
in ICU and about 8 weeks before a second surgery to reconnect her stomach
and intestines. The good news is that even though she has a tube down her
throat and 10 IV's going at the same time (literally, I counted them) she is
awake, responding, complaining and making the nurses jump through hoops for
her. They tell me this is actually a good thing. She is able to gesture and
shake her head yes or no to questions. She had told me before the surgery to
let this group know what was happening and I asked her today if this was
still her wish. She shook her head emphatically yes."



--
Hugs,

CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped

See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/

Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net


"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of others, I
*am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes in the middle
of all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the post Ben made. Since
then I've been totally incommunicado, physically and mentally, and unaware
of anything outside of my hospital bed. After *forty-four* days in the
hospital, I'm finally home.. which doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping
back into the group totally, because I have so much to do and catch up on
and because of physical and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to
do is getting my fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them.
Archer completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me
go from the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors' appointments
and/or a quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me. Sammy is too
much of a pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy is lukewarm to
me, but he was never a cuddling cat to begin with. Jessie cares only for
Ben - always has, always will. And Demi is as Demi always was, afraid of
her own shadow.



[Sidebar: the reason the cats were *SO* traumatized is that, two weeks
into my hospital stay, Ben had a heart attack (and was subsequently
diagnosed with diabetes), called 911, and was hospitalized for 5 days (he
is "OK" now but his heart still isn't beating correctly and in a couple of
weeks he'll have to go back into the hospital for them to "shock" his
heart back into the correct rhythm, and he has to take medications for
that and the diabetes). It took 2 whole days to arrange for his mother to
be driven by his sister from Arkansas to feed, water and scoop for the
cats. They went for 2 days without any food at all (from now on there
will be a plan in place to handle a double emergency like this - too late
to "fix" the feeling of abandonment my fur-babies had to have felt).
Fortunately, they were *SO* well fed before that that it didn't cause any
drastic weight loss or health issue.]



Anyway, for those of you interested, here is the complete, *TRUE* story of
what I've been through.



First, this had *NOTHING* to do with gastric bypass surgery. If you
remember, about 6(?) months ago I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart
Failure with Left Ventricular Thrombus (a blood clot inside of the
ventricle chamber of my heart). After being on blood thinners for a
couple of months, my cardiologist said that the blood clot was gone and he
discontinued the use of blood thinners (baaaaaaad idea). The blood clot
didn't go away, it broke up and moved to various parts of my body. At
least two lodged into the blood vessels providing oxygen to my intestinal
tract. The first few feet (upper small intestines) and the last few feet
(colon) became necrotic (died).



For the longest time doctors (*several* specialists, x-rays, MRIs, CAT
scans, etc.) told me I just had constipation and sent me home with
laxatives. On Thursday, February 17, Ben came downstairs to find me
unconscious on the floor. He rushed me to the ER and they did a number of
tests and *STILL* didn't come up with an accurate diagnosis. Finally, a
GP from my PCP's office came in to look at me prior to sending me home
with laxatives, because I still wouldn't regain consciousness (I guess
they thought I was faking being in a coma???!!). She did a physical
examination and when she pressed on the bottom right of my stomach I cried
out even though I was still unconscious. She thought "appendicitis". But
when she pressed on the upper left of my stomach I arched myself almost of
the examining table and screamed like a banshee, again, even though I was
still unconscious.



Warning, this may get just a little anatomically gross for those who are
sensitive to that - I'll try to make it as clinical as possible.



After that she order a special MRI with special intravenous dye that
showed the blood vessels supplying the intestinal tract. It showed not
only the blocked blood vessels, but also showed that my entire intestinal
tract was blocked with fecal matter without an inch even halfway empty.
In fact, the necrotic parts were filled to *TEN TIMES* their normal
diameter. In one of those spots the intestines had broken open, dumping
contaminated matter into the abdominal cavity (peritonitis). That was the
cause of the "coma" - they called it "septic shock".



They called an abdominal surgical specialist out of his bed in the middle
of the night (and might I say I owe my life to this Indian gentleman - he
*has* to be one of the best surgeons alive to have pulled me away from
death like he did). He looked at all the test results (quickly) and came
to talk to Ben to tell him I needed surgery. Ben said 'OK, when do you
want to set it up?'. The doctor said 'you don't understand, when I'm
finished talking to you, or in a few moments, I'm going directly to the
surgical suite and scrubbing in for immediate, emergency surgery'. He
then told Ben that he shouldn't get his hopes up because of the surgery,
that there was only a very, *VERY* slim chance that I would live through
it (most people die almost immediately from peritonitis). He told Ben to
start contacting my loved ones and to prepare them and himself for the
announcement of my death. [He also had to do a second surgery on the
following Tuesday, after some of the swelling and inflammation had gone
down, to "clean up" anything he missed and to temporarily reroute my colon
until it healed enough to reverse.]



I don't know if it's because I've been through so many medical issues in
my life so my body is used to recovering from very traumatic shocks, or if
I'm just blessed with a genetically strong constitution, but somehow I did
survive the surgery. Even so, the doctors told Ben that it was very,
*VERY* iffy that I would survive, much less recover from the surgery. I
was still in "septic shock", the reason for my "coma. I was in ICU,
unconscious, for two weeks, then in a "step-down unit" for two weeks after
I (sort of) regained consciousness, then in a SNiF (skilled nursing
facility) until last night.



When I 'woke up' after two weeks, I found that I had huge chunks of memory
that had just disappeared (things like my *CATS' NAMES*, even - and the
latest I could remember was the fall of 2010 and I was fuzzy even about
that (I still can't remember how to use our cable remote)). Thankfully,
quite a bit of that has come back, but I'm still missing a *LOT* of memory
and still have problems committing anything to memory - my short-term
memory has been compromised. I still have problems with my speech and
pretty bad aphasia (sometimes I'll not only forget the word I was trying
to say, but will replace that word with a completely inappropriate word).



I was also paralyzed on my right side - I had to have two nurses come and
move me or turn me on my side to relieve the bed sores I'd developed (I
still have one, the deepest, on my heel that is necrotic, but we're
keeping it covered with sealant in hope that it will heal from the inside
out - if it opens I'll have to have more surgery(s) to clean it out, and
bed sores tend to get septic/toxic very, very quickly). The cause of the
paralysis and memory loss is that I lost a lot of oxygen to my brain at
some point in the septic shock coma - more on this in a little bit. It's
about the same consequences as when someone has a stroke.



I also found: my hands were "restrained" because I was intubated and
unable to breathe on my own (it was two weeks before they removed the
breathing tube and put me on plain oxygen); an "ileostomy" bag attached to
my side because my colon had been (hopefully) temporarily rerouted until
(three months from the initial surgery) it can be reversed; an open
abdominal wound 10 inches long x 3 inches wide open x 1 inch deep (you can
actually see the layers of skin and fat and body tissue inside of it); 2
"J Tubes" to drain the wound; a "PEG tube" (a feeding tube going directly
into my stomach from my side into which they poured liquid nourishment); a
"PIC Line" (a "permanent" intravenous tube on the underside of my left arm
that had three "feeds" going to various places, one being the vena cava);
and a Foley catheter. The "J Tubes" came out after 2.5 weeks, the "PEG
Line" came out after 3.5 weeks, the Foley catheter came out 5 days ago,
and the "PIC Line" came out yesterday. That still leaves me with the open
wound and the ileostomy bag. I'll have to have home nursing come out
every day to clean and re-dress the wound and take care of the bed sore on
my heel, another nurse to help me care for the ileostomy bag and
appliances, a physical therapist for over-all strength and movement, and
an occupational therapist for fine motor movement control.



Now, the paralysis... I've gotten a great deal of movement back (I can
now sit up, rise from a sitting position if my seat is high enough, and
walk a limited distance using a walker). But, I still can't raise my
right arm even an inch from the table when I have it laying out in front
of me... my right shoulder wants to "hitch up" in a shrug even when I'm
resting, but especially when I try to move my arm (it's a bad habit to use
my body to move my arm and my PT fusses constantly at me because of that).
However, I can still move my right hand - I just have to adjust the height
of whatever I'm working on with my right hand.



I'm hopeful that the areas of my brain that were damaged because of oxygen
deprivation can be "re-routed" to compensate and that I'll get closer and
closer to "normal" the longer I do OT/PT and mental exercises.



Well, it's taken me over two hours to compose this post because of all of
the above, so you can understand if, as I said, I don't just jump back
into the group as much as I used to. I just thank all that's holy that I
have recovered as much as I have.



So that's it, that's the whole *TRUE* story of what I've gone through, so
I hope I can bypass another "gastric bypass is good/bad" debate. But just
FTR, I would advise anyone to forgo gastric bypass unless their health is
in danger and unable to respond to any other weight-loss methods (and,
yes, there are some people for whom gastric bypass is used to save their
lives - the abdominal surgery has caused me to look up everything I can
find about abdominal surgery and GB is a large part of that data
now-a-days).



Thank you for sticking around to read to the bottom of this post, it's
extremely boring to listen to someone else's medical problems. I just
wanted to set the record straight and tell the story to anyone who might
be, for various reasons, interested in my tale.


--
Hugs,



CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped



See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/



Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net

"CatNipped" wrote in
:

Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of
others, I *am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes
in the middle of all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the
post Ben made. Since then I've been totally incommunicado, physically
and mentally, and unaware of anything outside of my hospital bed.
After *forty-four* days in the hospital, I'm finally home.. which
doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping back into the group totally,
because I have so much to do and catch up on and because of physical
and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to do is getting my
fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them. Archer
completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me go
from the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors'
appointments and/or a quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me.
Sammy is too much of a pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy
is lukewarm to me, but he was never a cuddling cat to begin with.
Jessie cares only for Ben - always has, always will. And Demi is as
Demi always was, afraid of her own shadow.



[Sidebar: the reason the cats were *SO* traumatized is that, two
weeks into my hospital stay, Ben had a heart attack (and was
subsequently diagnosed with diabetes), called 911, and was
hospitalized for 5 days (he is "OK" now but his heart still isn't
beating correctly and in a couple of weeks he'll have to go back into
the hospital for them to "shock" his heart back into the correct
rhythm, and he has to take medications for that and the diabetes). It
took 2 whole days to arrange for his mother to be driven by his sister
from Arkansas to feed, water and scoop for the cats. They went for 2
days without any food at all (from now on there will be a plan in
place to handle a double emergency like this - too late to "fix" the
feeling of abandonment my fur-babies had to have felt). Fortunately,
they were *SO* well fed before that that it didn't cause any drastic
weight loss or health issue.]



Anyway, for those of you interested, here is the complete, *TRUE*
story of what I've been through.



First, this had *NOTHING* to do with gastric bypass surgery. If you
remember, about 6(?) months ago I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart
Failure with Left Ventricular Thrombus (a blood clot inside of the
ventricle chamber of my heart). After being on blood thinners for a
couple of months, my cardiologist said that the blood clot was gone
and he discontinued the use of blood thinners (baaaaaaad idea). The
blood clot didn't go away, it broke up and moved to various parts of
my body. At least two lodged into the blood vessels providing oxygen
to my intestinal tract. The first few feet (upper small intestines)
and the last few feet (colon) became necrotic (died).



For the longest time doctors (*several* specialists, x-rays, MRIs, CAT
scans, etc.) told me I just had constipation and sent me home with
laxatives. On Thursday, February 17, Ben came downstairs to find me
unconscious on the floor. He rushed me to the ER and they did a
number of tests and *STILL* didn't come up with an accurate diagnosis.
Finally, a GP from my PCP's office came in to look at me prior to
sending me home with laxatives, because I still wouldn't regain
consciousness (I guess they thought I was faking being in a
coma???!!). She did a physical examination and when she pressed on
the bottom right of my stomach I cried out even though I was still
unconscious. She thought "appendicitis". But when she pressed on the
upper left of my stomach I arched myself almost of the examining table
and screamed like a banshee, again, even though I was still
unconscious.



Warning, this may get just a little anatomically gross for those who
are sensitive to that - I'll try to make it as clinical as possible.



After that she order a special MRI with special intravenous dye that
showed the blood vessels supplying the intestinal tract. It showed
not only the blocked blood vessels, but also showed that my entire
intestinal tract was blocked with fecal matter without an inch even
halfway empty. In fact, the necrotic parts were filled to *TEN TIMES*
their normal diameter. In one of those spots the intestines had
broken open, dumping contaminated matter into the abdominal cavity
(peritonitis). That was the cause of the "coma" - they called it
"septic shock".



They called an abdominal surgical specialist out of his bed in the
middle of the night (and might I say I owe my life to this Indian
gentleman - he *has* to be one of the best surgeons alive to have
pulled me away from death like he did). He looked at all the test
results (quickly) and came to talk to Ben to tell him I needed
surgery. Ben said 'OK, when do you want to set it up?'. The doctor
said 'you don't understand, when I'm finished talking to you, or in a
few moments, I'm going directly to the surgical suite and scrubbing in
for immediate, emergency surgery'. He then told Ben that he shouldn't
get his hopes up because of the surgery, that there was only a very,
*VERY* slim chance that I would live through it (most people die
almost immediately from peritonitis). He told Ben to start contacting
my loved ones and to prepare them and himself for the announcement of
my death. [He also had to do a second surgery on the following
Tuesday, after some of the swelling and inflammation had gone down, to
"clean up" anything he missed and to temporarily reroute my colon
until it healed enough to reverse.]



I don't know if it's because I've been through so many medical issues
in my life so my body is used to recovering from very traumatic
shocks, or if I'm just blessed with a genetically strong constitution,
but somehow I did survive the surgery. Even so, the doctors told Ben
that it was very, *VERY* iffy that I would survive, much less recover
from the surgery. I was still in "septic shock", the reason for my
"coma. I was in ICU, unconscious, for two weeks, then in a "step-down
unit" for two weeks after I (sort of) regained consciousness, then in
a SNiF (skilled nursing facility) until last night.



When I 'woke up' after two weeks, I found that I had huge chunks of
memory that had just disappeared (things like my *CATS' NAMES*, even -
and the latest I could remember was the fall of 2010 and I was fuzzy
even about that (I still can't remember how to use our cable remote)).
Thankfully, quite a bit of that has come back, but I'm still missing
a *LOT* of memory and still have problems committing anything to
memory - my short-term memory has been compromised. I still have
problems with my speech and pretty bad aphasia (sometimes I'll not
only forget the word I was trying to say, but will replace that word
with a completely inappropriate word).



I was also paralyzed on my right side - I had to have two nurses come
and move me or turn me on my side to relieve the bed sores I'd
developed (I still have one, the deepest, on my heel that is necrotic,
but we're keeping it covered with sealant in hope that it will heal
from the inside out - if it opens I'll have to have more surgery(s) to
clean it out, and bed sores tend to get septic/toxic very, very
quickly). The cause of the paralysis and memory loss is that I lost a
lot of oxygen to my brain at some point in the septic shock coma -
more on this in a little bit. It's about the same consequences as
when someone has a stroke.



I also found: my hands were "restrained" because I was intubated and
unable to breathe on my own (it was two weeks before they removed the
breathing tube and put me on plain oxygen); an "ileostomy" bag
attached to my side because my colon had been (hopefully) temporarily
rerouted until (three months from the initial surgery) it can be
reversed; an open abdominal wound 10 inches long x 3 inches wide open
x 1 inch deep (you can actually see the layers of skin and fat and
body tissue inside of it); 2 "J Tubes" to drain the wound; a "PEG
tube" (a feeding tube going directly into my stomach from my side into
which they poured liquid nourishment); a "PIC Line" (a "permanent"
intravenous tube on the underside of my left arm that had three
"feeds" going to various places, one being the vena cava); and a Foley
catheter. The "J Tubes" came out after 2.5 weeks, the "PEG Line" came
out after 3.5 weeks, the Foley catheter came out 5 days ago, and the
"PIC Line" came out yesterday. That still leaves me with the open
wound and the ileostomy bag. I'll have to have home nursing come out
every day to clean and re-dress the wound and take care of the bed
sore on my heel, another nurse to help me care for the ileostomy bag
and appliances, a physical therapist for over-all strength and
movement, and an occupational therapist for fine motor movement
control.



Now, the paralysis... I've gotten a great deal of movement back (I
can now sit up, rise from a sitting position if my seat is high
enough, and walk a limited distance using a walker). But, I still
can't raise my right arm even an inch from the table when I have it
laying out in front of me... my right shoulder wants to "hitch up" in
a shrug even when I'm resting, but especially when I try to move my
arm (it's a bad habit to use my body to move my arm and my PT fusses
constantly at me because of that). However, I can still move my right
hand - I just have to adjust the height of whatever I'm working on
with my right hand.



I'm hopeful that the areas of my brain that were damaged because of
oxygen deprivation can be "re-routed" to compensate and that I'll get
closer and closer to "normal" the longer I do OT/PT and mental
exercises.



Well, it's taken me over two hours to compose this post because of all
of the above, so you can understand if, as I said, I don't just jump
back into the group as much as I used to. I just thank all that's
holy that I have recovered as much as I have.



So that's it, that's the whole *TRUE* story of what I've gone through,
so I hope I can bypass another "gastric bypass is good/bad" debate.
But just FTR, I would advise anyone to forgo gastric bypass unless
their health is in danger and unable to respond to any other
weight-loss methods (and, yes, there are some people for whom gastric
bypass is used to save their lives - the abdominal surgery has caused
me to look up everything I can find about abdominal surgery and GB is
a large part of that data now-a-days).



Thank you for sticking around to read to the bottom of this post, it's
extremely boring to listen to someone else's medical problems. I just
wanted to set the record straight and tell the story to anyone who
might be, for various reasons, interested in my tale.



Holy cow! Glad you're still among the living after all that Take
good care of yourself.

Bobble

Good gracious, Lori. For someone who had some brain damage from
lack of oxygen, you sure can tell your story very well. Thank goodness
you were lucky enough and with God's help you were able to get
through all of this without any adverse effects it seems. Lily & I have
been praying and purring for your well-being every night. God bless!

Lily & her mama


--
Irulan
from the stars we come
to the stars we return
from now until the end of time.

"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of others, I
*am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes in the middle
of all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the post Ben made. Since
then I've been totally incommunicado, physically and mentally, and unaware
of anything outside of my hospital bed. After *forty-four* days in the
hospital, I'm finally home.. which doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping
back into the group totally, because I have so much to do and catch up on
and because of physical and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to
do is getting my fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them.
Archer completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me
go from the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors' appointments
and/or a quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me. Sammy is too
much of a pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy is lukewarm to
me, but he was never a cuddling cat to begin with. Jessie cares only for
Ben - always has, always will. And Demi is as Demi always was, afraid of
her own shadow.



[Sidebar: the reason the cats were *SO* traumatized is that, two weeks
into my hospital stay, Ben had a heart attack (and was subsequently
diagnosed with diabetes), called 911, and was hospitalized for 5 days (he
is "OK" now but his heart still isn't beating correctly and in a couple of
weeks he'll have to go back into the hospital for them to "shock" his
heart back into the correct rhythm, and he has to take medications for
that and the diabetes). It took 2 whole days to arrange for his mother to
be driven by his sister from Arkansas to feed, water and scoop for the
cats. They went for 2 days without any food at all (from now on there
will be a plan in place to handle a double emergency like this - too late
to "fix" the feeling of abandonment my fur-babies had to have felt).
Fortunately, they were *SO* well fed before that that it didn't cause any
drastic weight loss or health issue.]



Anyway, for those of you interested, here is the complete, *TRUE* story of
what I've been through.



First, this had *NOTHING* to do with gastric bypass surgery. If you
remember, about 6(?) months ago I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart
Failure with Left Ventricular Thrombus (a blood clot inside of the
ventricle chamber of my heart). After being on blood thinners for a
couple of months, my cardiologist said that the blood clot was gone and he
discontinued the use of blood thinners (baaaaaaad idea). The blood clot
didn't go away, it broke up and moved to various parts of my body. At
least two lodged into the blood vessels providing oxygen to my intestinal
tract. The first few feet (upper small intestines) and the last few feet
(colon) became necrotic (died).



For the longest time doctors (*several* specialists, x-rays, MRIs, CAT
scans, etc.) told me I just had constipation and sent me home with
laxatives. On Thursday, February 17, Ben came downstairs to find me
unconscious on the floor. He rushed me to the ER and they did a number of
tests and *STILL* didn't come up with an accurate diagnosis. Finally, a
GP from my PCP's office came in to look at me prior to sending me home
with laxatives, because I still wouldn't regain consciousness (I guess
they thought I was faking being in a coma???!!). She did a physical
examination and when she pressed on the bottom right of my stomach I cried
out even though I was still unconscious. She thought "appendicitis". But
when she pressed on the upper left of my stomach I arched myself almost of
the examining table and screamed like a banshee, again, even though I was
still unconscious.



Warning, this may get just a little anatomically gross for those who are
sensitive to that - I'll try to make it as clinical as possible.



After that she order a special MRI with special intravenous dye that
showed the blood vessels supplying the intestinal tract. It showed not
only the blocked blood vessels, but also showed that my entire intestinal
tract was blocked with fecal matter without an inch even halfway empty.
In fact, the necrotic parts were filled to *TEN TIMES* their normal
diameter. In one of those spots the intestines had broken open, dumping
contaminated matter into the abdominal cavity (peritonitis). That was the
cause of the "coma" - they called it "septic shock".



They called an abdominal surgical specialist out of his bed in the middle
of the night (and might I say I owe my life to this Indian gentleman - he
*has* to be one of the best surgeons alive to have pulled me away from
death like he did). He looked at all the test results (quickly) and came
to talk to Ben to tell him I needed surgery. Ben said 'OK, when do you
want to set it up?'. The doctor said 'you don't understand, when I'm
finished talking to you, or in a few moments, I'm going directly to the
surgical suite and scrubbing in for immediate, emergency surgery'. He
then told Ben that he shouldn't get his hopes up because of the surgery,
that there was only a very, *VERY* slim chance that I would live through
it (most people die almost immediately from peritonitis). He told Ben to
start contacting my loved ones and to prepare them and himself for the
announcement of my death. [He also had to do a second surgery on the
following Tuesday, after some of the swelling and inflammation had gone
down, to "clean up" anything he missed and to temporarily reroute my colon
until it healed enough to reverse.]



I don't know if it's because I've been through so many medical issues in
my life so my body is used to recovering from very traumatic shocks, or if
I'm just blessed with a genetically strong constitution, but somehow I did
survive the surgery. Even so, the doctors told Ben that it was very,
*VERY* iffy that I would survive, much less recover from the surgery. I
was still in "septic shock", the reason for my "coma. I was in ICU,
unconscious, for two weeks, then in a "step-down unit" for two weeks after
I (sort of) regained consciousness, then in a SNiF (skilled nursing
facility) until last night.



When I 'woke up' after two weeks, I found that I had huge chunks of memory
that had just disappeared (things like my *CATS' NAMES*, even - and the
latest I could remember was the fall of 2010 and I was fuzzy even about
that (I still can't remember how to use our cable remote)). Thankfully,
quite a bit of that has come back, but I'm still missing a *LOT* of memory
and still have problems committing anything to memory - my short-term
memory has been compromised. I still have problems with my speech and
pretty bad aphasia (sometimes I'll not only forget the word I was trying
to say, but will replace that word with a completely inappropriate word).



I was also paralyzed on my right side - I had to have two nurses come and
move me or turn me on my side to relieve the bed sores I'd developed (I
still have one, the deepest, on my heel that is necrotic, but we're
keeping it covered with sealant in hope that it will heal from the inside
out - if it opens I'll have to have more surgery(s) to clean it out, and
bed sores tend to get septic/toxic very, very quickly). The cause of the
paralysis and memory loss is that I lost a lot of oxygen to my brain at
some point in the septic shock coma - more on this in a little bit. It's
about the same consequences as when someone has a stroke.



I also found: my hands were "restrained" because I was intubated and
unable to breathe on my own (it was two weeks before they removed the
breathing tube and put me on plain oxygen); an "ileostomy" bag attached to
my side because my colon had been (hopefully) temporarily rerouted until
(three months from the initial surgery) it can be reversed; an open
abdominal wound 10 inches long x 3 inches wide open x 1 inch deep (you can
actually see the layers of skin and fat and body tissue inside of it); 2
"J Tubes" to drain the wound; a "PEG tube" (a feeding tube going directly
into my stomach from my side into which they poured liquid nourishment); a
"PIC Line" (a "permanent" intravenous tube on the underside of my left arm
that had three "feeds" going to various places, one being the vena cava);
and a Foley catheter. The "J Tubes" came out after 2.5 weeks, the "PEG
Line" came out after 3.5 weeks, the Foley catheter came out 5 days ago,
and the "PIC Line" came out yesterday. That still leaves me with the open
wound and the ileostomy bag. I'll have to have home nursing come out
every day to clean and re-dress the wound and take care of the bed sore on
my heel, another nurse to help me care for the ileostomy bag and
appliances, a physical therapist for over-all strength and movement, and
an occupational therapist for fine motor movement control.



Now, the paralysis... I've gotten a great deal of movement back (I can
now sit up, rise from a sitting position if my seat is high enough, and
walk a limited distance using a walker). But, I still can't raise my
right arm even an inch from the table when I have it laying out in front
of me... my right shoulder wants to "hitch up" in a shrug even when I'm
resting, but especially when I try to move my arm (it's a bad habit to use
my body to move my arm and my PT fusses constantly at me because of that).
However, I can still move my right hand - I just have to adjust the height
of whatever I'm working on with my right hand.



I'm hopeful that the areas of my brain that were damaged because of oxygen
deprivation can be "re-routed" to compensate and that I'll get closer and
closer to "normal" the longer I do OT/PT and mental exercises.



Well, it's taken me over two hours to compose this post because of all of
the above, so you can understand if, as I said, I don't just jump back
into the group as much as I used to. I just thank all that's holy that I
have recovered as much as I have.



So that's it, that's the whole *TRUE* story of what I've gone through, so
I hope I can bypass another "gastric bypass is good/bad" debate. But just
FTR, I would advise anyone to forgo gastric bypass unless their health is
in danger and unable to respond to any other weight-loss methods (and,
yes, there are some people for whom gastric bypass is used to save their
lives - the abdominal surgery has caused me to look up everything I can
find about abdominal surgery and GB is a large part of that data
now-a-days).



Thank you for sticking around to read to the bottom of this post, it's
extremely boring to listen to someone else's medical problems. I just
wanted to set the record straight and tell the story to anyone who might
be, for various reasons, interested in my tale.


--
Hugs,



CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped



See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/



Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net

Top posting because I don't want to snip anything...

*******Lori!*******

I'm so glad to hear you're back home. I'm sorry you've gone through all
this. Purrs are still with you.

Jill


"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of others, I
*am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes in the middle
of all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the post Ben made. Since
then I've been totally incommunicado, physically and mentally, and unaware
of anything outside of my hospital bed. After *forty-four* days in the
hospital, I'm finally home.. which doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping
back into the group totally, because I have so much to do and catch up on
and because of physical and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to
do is getting my fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them.
Archer completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me
go from the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors' appointments
and/or a quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me. Sammy is too
much of a pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy is lukewarm to
me, but he was never a cuddling cat to begin with. Jessie cares only for
Ben - always has, always will. And Demi is as Demi always was, afraid of
her own shadow.



[Sidebar: the reason the cats were *SO* traumatized is that, two weeks
into my hospital stay, Ben had a heart attack (and was subsequently
diagnosed with diabetes), called 911, and was hospitalized for 5 days (he
is "OK" now but his heart still isn't beating correctly and in a couple of
weeks he'll have to go back into the hospital for them to "shock" his
heart back into the correct rhythm, and he has to take medications for
that and the diabetes). It took 2 whole days to arrange for his mother to
be driven by his sister from Arkansas to feed, water and scoop for the
cats. They went for 2 days without any food at all (from now on there
will be a plan in place to handle a double emergency like this - too late
to "fix" the feeling of abandonment my fur-babies had to have felt).
Fortunately, they were *SO* well fed before that that it didn't cause any
drastic weight loss or health issue.]



Anyway, for those of you interested, here is the complete, *TRUE* story of
what I've been through.



First, this had *NOTHING* to do with gastric bypass surgery. If you
remember, about 6(?) months ago I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart
Failure with Left Ventricular Thrombus (a blood clot inside of the
ventricle chamber of my heart). After being on blood thinners for a
couple of months, my cardiologist said that the blood clot was gone and he
discontinued the use of blood thinners (baaaaaaad idea). The blood clot
didn't go away, it broke up and moved to various parts of my body. At
least two lodged into the blood vessels providing oxygen to my intestinal
tract. The first few feet (upper small intestines) and the last few feet
(colon) became necrotic (died).



For the longest time doctors (*several* specialists, x-rays, MRIs, CAT
scans, etc.) told me I just had constipation and sent me home with
laxatives. On Thursday, February 17, Ben came downstairs to find me
unconscious on the floor. He rushed me to the ER and they did a number of
tests and *STILL* didn't come up with an accurate diagnosis. Finally, a
GP from my PCP's office came in to look at me prior to sending me home
with laxatives, because I still wouldn't regain consciousness (I guess
they thought I was faking being in a coma???!!). She did a physical
examination and when she pressed on the bottom right of my stomach I cried
out even though I was still unconscious. She thought "appendicitis". But
when she pressed on the upper left of my stomach I arched myself almost of
the examining table and screamed like a banshee, again, even though I was
still unconscious.



Warning, this may get just a little anatomically gross for those who are
sensitive to that - I'll try to make it as clinical as possible.



After that she order a special MRI with special intravenous dye that
showed the blood vessels supplying the intestinal tract. It showed not
only the blocked blood vessels, but also showed that my entire intestinal
tract was blocked with fecal matter without an inch even halfway empty.
In fact, the necrotic parts were filled to *TEN TIMES* their normal
diameter. In one of those spots the intestines had broken open, dumping
contaminated matter into the abdominal cavity (peritonitis). That was the
cause of the "coma" - they called it "septic shock".



They called an abdominal surgical specialist out of his bed in the middle
of the night (and might I say I owe my life to this Indian gentleman - he
*has* to be one of the best surgeons alive to have pulled me away from
death like he did). He looked at all the test results (quickly) and came
to talk to Ben to tell him I needed surgery. Ben said 'OK, when do you
want to set it up?'. The doctor said 'you don't understand, when I'm
finished talking to you, or in a few moments, I'm going directly to the
surgical suite and scrubbing in for immediate, emergency surgery'. He
then told Ben that he shouldn't get his hopes up because of the surgery,
that there was only a very, *VERY* slim chance that I would live through
it (most people die almost immediately from peritonitis). He told Ben to
start contacting my loved ones and to prepare them and himself for the
announcement of my death. [He also had to do a second surgery on the
following Tuesday, after some of the swelling and inflammation had gone
down, to "clean up" anything he missed and to temporarily reroute my colon
until it healed enough to reverse.]



I don't know if it's because I've been through so many medical issues in
my life so my body is used to recovering from very traumatic shocks, or if
I'm just blessed with a genetically strong constitution, but somehow I did
survive the surgery. Even so, the doctors told Ben that it was very,
*VERY* iffy that I would survive, much less recover from the surgery. I
was still in "septic shock", the reason for my "coma. I was in ICU,
unconscious, for two weeks, then in a "step-down unit" for two weeks after
I (sort of) regained consciousness, then in a SNiF (skilled nursing
facility) until last night.



When I 'woke up' after two weeks, I found that I had huge chunks of memory
that had just disappeared (things like my *CATS' NAMES*, even - and the
latest I could remember was the fall of 2010 and I was fuzzy even about
that (I still can't remember how to use our cable remote)). Thankfully,
quite a bit of that has come back, but I'm still missing a *LOT* of memory
and still have problems committing anything to memory - my short-term
memory has been compromised. I still have problems with my speech and
pretty bad aphasia (sometimes I'll not only forget the word I was trying
to say, but will replace that word with a completely inappropriate word).



I was also paralyzed on my right side - I had to have two nurses come and
move me or turn me on my side to relieve the bed sores I'd developed (I
still have one, the deepest, on my heel that is necrotic, but we're
keeping it covered with sealant in hope that it will heal from the inside
out - if it opens I'll have to have more surgery(s) to clean it out, and
bed sores tend to get septic/toxic very, very quickly). The cause of the
paralysis and memory loss is that I lost a lot of oxygen to my brain at
some point in the septic shock coma - more on this in a little bit. It's
about the same consequences as when someone has a stroke.



I also found: my hands were "restrained" because I was intubated and
unable to breathe on my own (it was two weeks before they removed the
breathing tube and put me on plain oxygen); an "ileostomy" bag attached to
my side because my colon had been (hopefully) temporarily rerouted until
(three months from the initial surgery) it can be reversed; an open
abdominal wound 10 inches long x 3 inches wide open x 1 inch deep (you can
actually see the layers of skin and fat and body tissue inside of it); 2
"J Tubes" to drain the wound; a "PEG tube" (a feeding tube going directly
into my stomach from my side into which they poured liquid nourishment); a
"PIC Line" (a "permanent" intravenous tube on the underside of my left arm
that had three "feeds" going to various places, one being the vena cava);
and a Foley catheter. The "J Tubes" came out after 2.5 weeks, the "PEG
Line" came out after 3.5 weeks, the Foley catheter came out 5 days ago,
and the "PIC Line" came out yesterday. That still leaves me with the open
wound and the ileostomy bag. I'll have to have home nursing come out
every day to clean and re-dress the wound and take care of the bed sore on
my heel, another nurse to help me care for the ileostomy bag and
appliances, a physical therapist for over-all strength and movement, and
an occupational therapist for fine motor movement control.



Now, the paralysis... I've gotten a great deal of movement back (I can
now sit up, rise from a sitting position if my seat is high enough, and
walk a limited distance using a walker). But, I still can't raise my
right arm even an inch from the table when I have it laying out in front
of me... my right shoulder wants to "hitch up" in a shrug even when I'm
resting, but especially when I try to move my arm (it's a bad habit to use
my body to move my arm and my PT fusses constantly at me because of that).
However, I can still move my right hand - I just have to adjust the height
of whatever I'm working on with my right hand.



I'm hopeful that the areas of my brain that were damaged because of oxygen
deprivation can be "re-routed" to compensate and that I'll get closer and
closer to "normal" the longer I do OT/PT and mental exercises.



Well, it's taken me over two hours to compose this post because of all of
the above, so you can understand if, as I said, I don't just jump back
into the group as much as I used to. I just thank all that's holy that I
have recovered as much as I have.



So that's it, that's the whole *TRUE* story of what I've gone through, so
I hope I can bypass another "gastric bypass is good/bad" debate. But just
FTR, I would advise anyone to forgo gastric bypass unless their health is
in danger and unable to respond to any other weight-loss methods (and,
yes, there are some people for whom gastric bypass is used to save their
lives - the abdominal surgery has caused me to look up everything I can
find about abdominal surgery and GB is a large part of that data
now-a-days).



Thank you for sticking around to read to the bottom of this post, it's
extremely boring to listen to someone else's medical problems. I just
wanted to set the record straight and tell the story to anyone who might
be, for various reasons, interested in my tale.


--
Hugs,



CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped



See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/



Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net

"Irulan" wrote in message
...
Good gracious, Lori. For someone who had some brain damage from
lack of oxygen, you sure can tell your story very well. Thank goodness
you were lucky enough and with God's help you were able to get
through all of this without any adverse effects it seems. Lily & I have
been praying and purring for your well-being every night. God bless!

Lily & her mama

It's *MUCH* easier for me to write something rather than talking about it.
For one thing I can take my time *for this post it took me over 2 hours to
compose it). I can wait to hit "Send" until I've reread it several times,
spell-checked it, and basically consider and reconsider what I've written.
I haven't even phoned my granddaughters since this happened, I've texted
them instead, because I don't want them to be concerned about MaMere being
so "out of it".

But yes, I've regained a good bit of what I lost, and I'm hoping that I'll
be able to reroute the pathways in my brain that were "shorted out" by the
septic shock "coma" (I don't know what else to call it since Ben insists
that I was sometimes conscious, but I have absolutely *NO* recollection or
memory of anything that happened or was said or done to me during those two
weeks in ICU, and spottily since then).

Thank you, though, your words make me feel more hopeful that I'm getting
something back that could easily have been permanently lost.



--
Hugs,

CatNipped
See all our masters at: http://www.PossiblePlaces.com/CatNipped

See the RPCA FAQ site, by Mark Edwards, at:
http://www.professional-geek.com/rpcablog/

Email: L(dot)T(dot)Crews(at)comcast(dot)net

"CatNipped" wrote in message
...
Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of
others, I *am* still alive. ...

fx: hApPY dANcE!

snip medical details

Wow! You have the constitution of an ox! I expect your case will
be written up in professional journals!

GWS.

--
MatSav

No cluons were harmed when CatNipped wrote:
I *am* still alive.

Hugs and purrs and prayers and many thanks that you are treated and
recovering. May the furry ones help you in your recovery.


Hugs and Purrs,
Mark
--
Proof of Sanity Forged Upon Request

"CatNipped" wrote:
Yep, to the pleasant surprise of some and the disappointment of others, I
*am* still alive. I was only able to log on for 5 minutes in the middle of
all this, so I saw only two posts replying to the post Ben made. Since then
I've been totally incommunicado, physically and mentally, and unaware of
anything outside of my hospital bed. After *forty-four* days in the
hospital, I'm finally home.. which doesn't mean I'm going to be jumping back
into the group totally, because I have so much to do and catch up on and
because of physical and mental disabilities. The main thing I have to do is
getting my fur-babies to forget and forgive my abandoning them. Archer
completely snubbed me on my first "home visit" (they would let me go from
the SNIP unit for a few hours every week for doctors' appointments and/or a
quick trip home), then finally warmed up to me. Sammy is too much of a
pettins' 'ho' to give up being skritched. Ozzy is lukewarm to me, but he
was never a cuddling cat to begin with. Jessie cares only for Ben - always
has, always will. And Demi is as Demi always was, afraid of her own shadow.

Thank you for checking in. I'm glad that you're well enough that they
let you out. And how worrying about Ben too! We'll be sending purrs
for you both.