Let me begin by saying that this is a rather delicate issue, but I want you to understand what the past three years and multiple surgeries has been about. In the process, I may help another with similar issues avoid the problems I've had. Mainly, by imparting some information that can be used to get the right person for the job. I'm hoping that where I seem a little vague (for modesty's sake), you'll understand what I'm trying to say.
In June of 2020, I went to the same orthopedist Handsome had gone to for his knee replacement. Once he looked at my knee, he suggested physical therapy to which I responded that I had an issue common in women, fearing I'd be a wet mess if I tried to do anything too physical for my knee. He recommended I see his colleague and friend - a urologist - to see about getting some relief. So, I left his office and made an appointment with his colleague.
Handsome attended the appointment with me, and I discussed a possible solution might be to install a "sling". I'd talked to multiple girlfriends who'd had the procedure, and they all swore by it. He agreed and scheduled me for surgery.
Now, before I go further, I now know that he should have done a series of tests first to assess just how bad my condition was, but I didn't know that at the time. He scheduled me for a surgery on July 23, 2020.
The surgery was a day procedure, so I knew I'd be going home that afternoon. We got to the hospital first thing in the morning, and when it was getting close to checkout time, the nurse said I needed to void on my own before I could leave. I realized then that I had heavy bleeding - unexpected by anything I'd been cautioned about pre-op - so I asked the nurse why? She told me that the doctor would explain, but there had been "complications".
I didn't see the doctor before leaving, but Handsome had the whole story, which he told me on our way home. When the doctor went to tighten the sling, it broke. So he cut the anchor attachments (leaving them in place), removed the sling, and proceeded to install a second one - even though he said he knew it would cause me some trauma.
When he went to tighten the second sling, it also broke. Soooo, rather than quit there, he informed Handsome (after the fact) that there was one more sling in the hospital. He again cut the anchors (also leaving them behind), removed the second sling, and then installed a third one...which he didn't tighten because he was afraid it would break. At that point, I have one loose sling and six anchors in place...and he sent me home.
I was soon in great pain, taking the medicine he sent home with us, but the pain grew worse and persisted. We called multiple times and he said to continue with the pain meds and he'd see me in two weeks. In the meantime, I was unable to sit up straight at all. I had to shift from one hip to the other, or be completely prone. I spent most of my time in bed. The pain was akin to what you might remember from childhood if you ever fell forward on the bar of your bicycle - times ten. It was excruciating.
We saw him after two weeks, and he said I was "healing nicely", but he may have to send me to a specialist to determine why I was in pain. This persisted for seven weeks, until he finally referred me to a urogynechologist in Green Bay.
When the specialist examined me, he said he could palpate the slipped sling and one of the anchors, and the best thing would be to remove everything, get me out of pain, and start at square one. We scheduled that surgery for September 11, 2020. When I came out of the surgery, I was immediately out of pain. He told us he removed five of the six anchors (one was high up and he didn't want to risk doing more damage. It could stay safely where it was), part of a remnant sling that had been left behind, and the slipped sling. So, everything except one anchor had been removed.
Rather than go into every sordid detail, I'll fast forward a bit. The sling had done more damage than just pain. It had been resting on my bladder nerve, so I now had a spastic bladder and permanent damage to the "piping". It means that whenever I moved it was like priming a pump, and there was no function to stop the flow. I essentially went from a couple light days to 9-10 heavy weight pads a day, and overnight coverage as well.
When that first specialist had medical issues of his own that kept him out of the office for months, I was referred to a female specialist in Milwaukee-area. She was also wonderful, and was candid that the first guy really messed up...a fact that the first specialist agreed with. Nevertheless, we went through tests, and multiple procedures in an effort to find some relief for me. This condition was stealing my life from me. I couldn't go swimming, hunting with Handsome, or even shopping. I'd be wet through to my clothes before I could get back home - even if I made stops along the way. I tried to deal with my condition with humor, but truthfully, it was stealing my joy every minute of the day and night.
Procedure (Surgery) #7 was to install an Interstim unit to try to control the bladder spasms. It's a battery-operated unit installed in the back of my hip with a lead wire that runs along the nerve for my bladder. It definitely worked, but it was causing me to get cramps in my leg, and the dang battery unit pinches if I move wrong. I'm always aware it's there. Note here that Surgery #3-6 were to try other options. A different sling, a bulking procedure to narrow down the "piping", etc.
When I found out that my first specialist was back to his practice, I contacted him. He spoke with the Milwaukee specialist and they compared notes. More than anything, he wanted to do his best to reverse the damage done by the urologist who did the first botched surgery. I made an appointment for more tests and then he sat down with Handsome and me for a discussion. He told us I was an enigma. Everything he and the other specialist had done should have helped me at each stage of the process, but it hadn't. I had one viable option left to me.
We decided that he would perform another surgery - to install an obstructive sling. That means I was agreeing to a procedure that would likely require that I self-catheterize for the rest of my life...but I'd be dry. I could take control again. Handsome and I discussed it and we agreed to go ahead with the surgery. That's the procedure that was done on August 29th of this year...just over three years since The Troubles began.
Since the surgery, I've been doing everything the doctor told me I need to do. No lifting over five pounds (almost everything weights over five pounds!), rest, and concentrate on healing. I came home with a supply of catheters (I'd been trained to use them two years ago), and prepared for my new way of life.
Imagine my surprise - and confusion - when I found that I didn't need to catheterize. Did something go wrong? Did I do something I wasn't supposed to? Was this another failure? Then I stopped to assess. There was no leaking. THERE WAS NO LEAKING! Oh, I forgot to tell you. The Interstim was turned off for the surgery, and the doctor told me to leave it off to see how things went without it. There were no spasms in the ensuing days either.
I saw the doctor yesterday. I wore a dress to our appointment - a fact that didn't go unnoticed by his nurse. She also commented on the big smile on my face, when all our other appointments had been tearful. We went in to the exam room and she asked how everything was going, and I told her. The first thing she said was, "Well, I won't be doing the "Don't worry. It's too early to tell yet." speech." Now she was smiling, too. She left the room and came back with the doctor.
He had me sit in the "funny chair" so he could do an exam and remove my stitches/staples. (ouch) Then, we talked. He's cautiously optimistic, but what Handsome and I realized was that this is what he'd been hoping for all along. While I was focused on having to self-cath the rest of my life - he'd given me the worst-case scenario. What he didn't tell me was that things might return to normal and none of that would be necessary. So far, that's the case.
I'll see him again in eight weeks, and in the meantime, I'm going to continue to do exactly what I've been doing since the surgery - minding my "p"s and "q"s, and following his orders to the letter. I may have only one proceedure left - to remove the Interstim, which still hasn't been turned on, and he said I should leave off for now. As I continue to heal, we'll find out whether or not I need it at all in the future. Another point: If you've looking to have a procedure like this - which I'd still recommend to anyone going through what I was at the start - PLEASE go to a urogynecologist...someone who specializes in women's issues.
I seriously can't stop smiling. I'm hoping that if optimism and a sunny outlook affect healing, that they will help carry me to the best possible resolution to three years of hell.
Now, if you're wondering...yes. I spoke with multiple lawyers. We agreed that we had a case, but after Medicare got repaid, the lawyers took their cut, and incidentals were covered, there may not be anything left for us. Wisconsin has a cap on malpractice awards, and adjudication may take up to another three years of my life. We agreed not to sue.
Instead, I've filed a complaint with the Wis. Medical Board, who will do a thorough review of the entire first surgery and how that doctor conducted himself. He should have done tests first. He didn't. He shouldn't have used the type of sling he chose (according to the two specialists), he never should have installed anything after the first sling broke, and he left me in pain way too long without relief. These are the things that will be reviewed by the board, and from what I was told by our lawyer, he's going to feel like he's gone to a proctologist with large, rough hands.
As for me, I'm going to continue to heal, live my happy life here at the farmhouse, and have faith that God and a gifted surgeon have given my life back to me. I hope
this hasn't been a TMI post for you. Truthfully, it's been cathartic for
me to write about it. What little modesty I had before all this
started, completely disappeared over three years of being poked,
prodded, examined, and tested. I guess the fact that I'm even putting
this into words is proof of that.
I'll likely know as the weeks go by whether or not I continue to improve, but I'm looking forward to having a bona fide confirmation in eight weeks from my now favorite doctor. I have a feeling this is the fix we've been praying for. As always, I'll ask that you continue lifting healing prayers for me. Thanks for reading to the end. I feel like I should have a prize waiting for you just for slogging through this entire post! (Maybe I'll have to do something special for anyone who comments. You just never know. Stay tuned.)
