 |
| My Last Bit of Milk Consumed with much vigour. |
Showing posts with label breast feeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label breast feeding. Show all posts
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Weaned
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Da Flu
Headache worse, feelin' pukey/achey. Gotta be da flu. I hope little baby is okay. I'm still pumping out buckets of milk for him to drink, even more with the flu to protect him.
I've given up on breast feeding at the breast ans I am purely pumping now. It is demanding and exhausting. To keep my milk up, I wake up twice a night plus I seem to be pumping non-stop for the rest of the day since the breast pump doesn't do as good of a job as a baby.
I've given up on breast feeding at the breast ans I am purely pumping now. It is demanding and exhausting. To keep my milk up, I wake up twice a night plus I seem to be pumping non-stop for the rest of the day since the breast pump doesn't do as good of a job as a baby.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Day After
So what was the significance of Dr. Rubble instructing me to take a shower before I came to today’s appointment? I’ll tell you. By showering and letting water flow into the wound, the gauze he packed into it would not adhere to my healing abscess, making the extraction of the two feet of material not agonizingly painful. Sure wish I would have understood that clearly before I came to my appointment! Dr. Rubble even made a point of asking me if I had showered. I said sure--I showered dutifully. He asked if the gauze had gotten wet. I said sure, because it had. If he would have asked if water had saturated the gauze, I might have been spared a good deal of pain. Oh well. His nurse held my hand while I bit my lip.
Tennisfiend witnessed the extraction, later commenting that the gauze looked like “a yard of meaty bacon” as the doctor removed it. He was quite remorseful for not clarifying the doctor’s instructions to me since my perception of Wednesday’s instructions was blurry. The doctor’s next set of instructions were obediently memorized by both us. I must shower 4-6 times a day, letting water flow into and rinse my wound. Friday I should be able to clean the insides with a q-tip (gasp!). If he noticed the look of inexpressible horror on my face, he ignored it. The doctor prescribed me a mega-dose of Cleocin, an antibiotic so powerful it gives you diarrhea for weeks after treatment. Assisted by TF, I bravely staggered out of the office five minutes later. We sat in the parking lot for ten minutes while I recovered.
It took most of the afternoon to build up enough courage to take my first shower. I started by wetting the bandage thoroughly to keep it from sticking. Heh. I tried not to look, but morbid curiosity overcame my usual squeamishness. My first glance made my stomach clench. Immediately, an image from the Discovery Channel popped into my head. A group of fishermen butchered a great white shark. The gruesome combination of pale white skin and bloody red flesh looked exactly like eviscerated shark meat. I felt simultaneously dissociated from my incision and utterly repulsed by it. Despite my love for horror movies, I am ridiculously squeamish over real life medical procedures. I vow to desensitize myself with some Discovery Health programming. Brrr.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Breast Surgery
Yep. This is backdated, fer sure. I was in no state to write on the day of my surgery, let alone compose coherent sentences!
Anyway, I went in for breast surgery today at 12:30 p.m. This is twelve hours after I learned that surfing the internet at light speed under the influence of Tylenol 3 can make a person barf, big time. I spent the rest of the night worrying about dying from my infection prior to surgery (think Jim Henson) or dying during surgery (think my grandpa) or waking up in recovery without a left breast (think neighbor lady).
Around two in the morning, I woke up to discover that my giant red lump had developed a purplish center. Since I still had no fever, I calmly called our nurse hotline and chatted with Barry, who assured me that I was not going to die--abscesses sometimes develop purple centers. He told me to truck down to the emergency room if I developed a fever or red streaks (I knew that having googled my condition extensively). Overall, he was sweet and reassuring; he made me feel much better. Mwah! Big kiss to Barry.
How ironic that someone who worries so much over her health in general could be taken by surprise and wind up needing a surgical procedure. Someone should have told me to see the doctor if a milk duct is plugged for more than three days. I also should have started pestering the radioligist sooner. Waiting the extra day and a half for surgery allowed my abscess to double in size--the difference between a needle in a doctor's office and general anesthesia in the hospital. Well, I survived the ordeal--
9:00 Arrive at Dr. Rubble's office. The nurse gasps when she looks at my abscess. She puts some pain relif lotion on it and tells me that the doctor will be in to lance the abscess shortly. I balk.
9:15 Dr. Rubble enters, non-chalantly looks at my breast, frowns at the nurse for putting on the lotion and tells her to schedule me for general anesthesia and a Incision and Drainage at noon today. I was rather expecting this. I actually request an IV from Dr. Rubble since I feel so dehydrated from last night's puking festival.
10:45 At the hospital with Tennisfiend, with the IV sloshing glucose, electrolytes and water into my system. A loquacious asian nurse makes me comfortable and continues a dialoge about asian culture with me nonstop until her lunchtime. I appreciate the distraction.
11:00 Momfiend and her backpack arrive. She leaves in an hour to relieve Fontessa, who has been babysitting Tyoma.
11:15 I am grateful that I brought my breast pump, since one is not readily avaible. I pump for a half an hour and worry about genral anethesia while TF tries to stay awake. My abscess is spectacularly painful and I can't take any meds for it.
11:45 The anesthesioligist arrives. He is a short, swarthy Robert Duvall with an inscrutably dry sense of humour. To prevent another barf-fest he orders medication to prevent nausea. Oddly enough, the anti-nauseant nauseates me. Bring out the pink puke cup!
12:00 The chatty nurse returns to inform me that Dr. Rubble will arrive shortly. In sotto voce, she tells us that he is running late.
12:30 The nurse starts the happy meds. I'd be sillier if I weren't so groggy. Pain decreases, yay!
12:45 Dr. Rubble arrives and I am whisked off to the operating chamber. They put a mask on me and my lights go out.
1:?? I wake up in recovery, still thinking i am in the operating room about to go under. Everything is foggy. I try to make some jokes, but clearly I'm the only one who realizes how hilarious I am. TF arrives. Dr. Rubble gives me detailed instructions related to wound care. I repeat everything back to him. He gives me a prescription for oxycodone. The next hour mysteriously disappears.
3:30 On the way home my lack of pain meds kicks in. Every bump is agonizing. I curse and whine at TF in a never ending stream. He escorts me to the couch and heads to Walgreens to drop off prescriptions. At home Mom listens patiently while I blather on endlessly. Must be some drugs left in my system!
4:00 I call Patto let her know I survived the surgery (she told me I would) and to beg her to stop by with some trashy mags after work. Fontessa naps and Mom continues to listen to me blabber non-stop.
Sometime after the pain meds kick in: Ewbliette arrives with a super sweet halloween ghost-bag full of goodies: The Enquirer, Star, Sun, The Globe, Weekly World News ("Alien Mummy Goes on Rampage," YAY!), Acoustic Guitar Magazine (for TF), chocolate covered macadamia nuts, and my favorite cheaparoonie candy--a Christoper's Big Cherry! Ewbliette takes over for Momfiend in listening to me prattle on, even giving me a foot massage! Friends and Family rule!
Anyway, I went in for breast surgery today at 12:30 p.m. This is twelve hours after I learned that surfing the internet at light speed under the influence of Tylenol 3 can make a person barf, big time. I spent the rest of the night worrying about dying from my infection prior to surgery (think Jim Henson) or dying during surgery (think my grandpa) or waking up in recovery without a left breast (think neighbor lady).
Around two in the morning, I woke up to discover that my giant red lump had developed a purplish center. Since I still had no fever, I calmly called our nurse hotline and chatted with Barry, who assured me that I was not going to die--abscesses sometimes develop purple centers. He told me to truck down to the emergency room if I developed a fever or red streaks (I knew that having googled my condition extensively). Overall, he was sweet and reassuring; he made me feel much better. Mwah! Big kiss to Barry.
How ironic that someone who worries so much over her health in general could be taken by surprise and wind up needing a surgical procedure. Someone should have told me to see the doctor if a milk duct is plugged for more than three days. I also should have started pestering the radioligist sooner. Waiting the extra day and a half for surgery allowed my abscess to double in size--the difference between a needle in a doctor's office and general anesthesia in the hospital. Well, I survived the ordeal--
9:15 Dr. Rubble enters, non-chalantly looks at my breast, frowns at the nurse for putting on the lotion and tells her to schedule me for general anesthesia and a Incision and Drainage at noon today. I was rather expecting this. I actually request an IV from Dr. Rubble since I feel so dehydrated from last night's puking festival.
10:45 At the hospital with Tennisfiend, with the IV sloshing glucose, electrolytes and water into my system. A loquacious asian nurse makes me comfortable and continues a dialoge about asian culture with me nonstop until her lunchtime. I appreciate the distraction.
11:00 Momfiend and her backpack arrive. She leaves in an hour to relieve Fontessa, who has been babysitting Tyoma.
11:15 I am grateful that I brought my breast pump, since one is not readily avaible. I pump for a half an hour and worry about genral anethesia while TF tries to stay awake. My abscess is spectacularly painful and I can't take any meds for it.
11:45 The anesthesioligist arrives. He is a short, swarthy Robert Duvall with an inscrutably dry sense of humour. To prevent another barf-fest he orders medication to prevent nausea. Oddly enough, the anti-nauseant nauseates me. Bring out the pink puke cup!
12:00 The chatty nurse returns to inform me that Dr. Rubble will arrive shortly. In sotto voce, she tells us that he is running late.
12:30 The nurse starts the happy meds. I'd be sillier if I weren't so groggy. Pain decreases, yay!
12:45 Dr. Rubble arrives and I am whisked off to the operating chamber. They put a mask on me and my lights go out.
1:?? I wake up in recovery, still thinking i am in the operating room about to go under. Everything is foggy. I try to make some jokes, but clearly I'm the only one who realizes how hilarious I am. TF arrives. Dr. Rubble gives me detailed instructions related to wound care. I repeat everything back to him. He gives me a prescription for oxycodone. The next hour mysteriously disappears.
3:30 On the way home my lack of pain meds kicks in. Every bump is agonizing. I curse and whine at TF in a never ending stream. He escorts me to the couch and heads to Walgreens to drop off prescriptions. At home Mom listens patiently while I blather on endlessly. Must be some drugs left in my system!
4:00 I call Pat
Sometime after the pain meds kick in: Ewbliette arrives with a super sweet halloween ghost-bag full of goodies: The Enquirer, Star, Sun, The Globe, Weekly World News ("Alien Mummy Goes on Rampage," YAY!), Acoustic Guitar Magazine (for TF), chocolate covered macadamia nuts, and my favorite cheaparoonie candy--a Christoper's Big Cherry! Ewbliette takes over for Momfiend in listening to me prattle on, even giving me a foot massage! Friends and Family rule!
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Ultrasound Adventure
I had my breast ultrasound early this morning and spent the rest of the day twiddling my thumbs waiting for results. Fortunately, the cool US tech girl gave me a heads up on the radiologist's propesnsity to drag his feet on sending reports. As a result, I spent an hour on the phone harassing various agencies to get my reults sent to my doctor's office. Lucky me. Almost ten minutes to the second after my final phone call, a Dr. Rubble calls me. I have no idea who he is, but he will be my surgeon tomorrow! I have a serious breast abscess. I need surgery. Would I like to come in tonight? Perhaps tomorrow would be better since I need to be without food for at least six hours to avoid aspirating my meal and dying a horrible death? A nine o'clock appointment with Dr. Rubble is scheduled for tomorrow. The evening passes with about five more phonecalls to prepare me for tomorrow's procedure, including a call from Sarah Seamstress for stronger pain meds (codeine). I make a few more phone calls to my mommy (Wah! Poor me!) and Ewbliette (am I going to die?). Damn, I was hoping to avoid all this.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Day From Hell, Really!
Today was the day from hell. Despite a night of little sleep due to breast pain, I woke up at my usual 2:00 am to take Tyoma for the remainder of the night. Twenty minutes into my shift I began to feel very unwell and achy--still no fever. Alarmed, I woke up Tennisfiend to finish my shift. I felt terrible. At dawn I'd call Gretta Granola for an appointment. I'd also reschedule Tyoma's two month shots today since Tennisfiend did not want to miss work to take him. Dr.Coppola would not reschedule me and Gretta said she's see me at 2:00.
I managed to make Tyoma's appointment with TF in attendance. We were stuck watching a video on immunizations and I had to ask the nurse to skip it so we could make my 2:00 appointment with Gretta. It was a bit of a last minute circus, since tyoma was fussy/crying after his shots and TF wanted to take him straight home and I needed to go straight to my appointment since I was miserable. I wound up meeting Momfiend in the parking lot. We raced across town to dash into the doctor's office at 2:01, only to find that Gretta had called, she was delayed in traffic.
When I showed her my poor swollen breast, she gasped and called the doctor who immediately wrote me a prescription for strong antibiotics and a slip for an ultrasound at the hospital (the ultrasound will rule out a condition called a galactocele). I also received a prescription for yet another breast ointment, and the doctor dismissed my primary's concerns over being allergic to Tyoma's saliva. When I went to the hospital for my ultrasound, I spent an hour struggling with the medical staff over scheduling concerns. Apparently, one simply doesn't request a walk in for a breast ultrasound. After much aggravation and four phone calls to the doctor's office, they scheduled me for an appointment first thing tomorrow--much better that late Wednesday afternoon!
I've spend the balance of the afternoon distracting myself on google, looking up "galactocele," and preying that I don't have to go in for surgery to have my breast drained. The idea of surgery horrifies me, especially since I squick out easily. I'd have to hire someone to care for my healing wound, I swear! Fortunately, surgery is uncommon, and I haven't had a fever so maybe it will go away with antibiotics. I do curse myself for not calling Gretta on Friday, I really thought that this would go away with heating pads and massage.
I managed to make Tyoma's appointment with TF in attendance. We were stuck watching a video on immunizations and I had to ask the nurse to skip it so we could make my 2:00 appointment with Gretta. It was a bit of a last minute circus, since tyoma was fussy/crying after his shots and TF wanted to take him straight home and I needed to go straight to my appointment since I was miserable. I wound up meeting Momfiend in the parking lot. We raced across town to dash into the doctor's office at 2:01, only to find that Gretta had called, she was delayed in traffic.
When I showed her my poor swollen breast, she gasped and called the doctor who immediately wrote me a prescription for strong antibiotics and a slip for an ultrasound at the hospital (the ultrasound will rule out a condition called a galactocele). I also received a prescription for yet another breast ointment, and the doctor dismissed my primary's concerns over being allergic to Tyoma's saliva. When I went to the hospital for my ultrasound, I spent an hour struggling with the medical staff over scheduling concerns. Apparently, one simply doesn't request a walk in for a breast ultrasound. After much aggravation and four phone calls to the doctor's office, they scheduled me for an appointment first thing tomorrow--much better that late Wednesday afternoon!
I've spend the balance of the afternoon distracting myself on google, looking up "galactocele," and preying that I don't have to go in for surgery to have my breast drained. The idea of surgery horrifies me, especially since I squick out easily. I'd have to hire someone to care for my healing wound, I swear! Fortunately, surgery is uncommon, and I haven't had a fever so maybe it will go away with antibiotics. I do curse myself for not calling Gretta on Friday, I really thought that this would go away with heating pads and massage.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Goth Nipples
I haven't gotten around to posting my breastfeeding drama(s) yet, but I just had to post this. Naturally, I plan to nurse Tyoma exclusively for the first six months and I ambitiously hope to continue for one whole year. It's something you do for your child that will impact him/her for the rest of their lives. Well anyway, after a few extra days in the hospital with attendant nursing problems, I came home and worked on developing a painful case of mastitis.
Did I say painful? Heh. Thrush is painful. Mastitis, meh. Got thrush two weeks ago on a Saturday and liked to have died. Bless icepacks and Diflucan. And bless Sarah Seamstress, who took care of my agonized self at nine in the evening.
Two weeks on the antifungals have passed, and I was still itchy/burny so I called my lactation consultant for help. She suggested more Diflucan and painting my nipples with Gentian Violet. Gentian Violet is like iodine, except it is purple-black and it smears and stains everything.
Since I have lost all modesty with the birth and breastfeeding, so I'm tempted to post a pic of my grotesque deep-purple nipples for your amusement. But I am restraining myself. Egor observed me painting my poor monstrously huge nips and laughed, "You've got Goth Nipples!" That struck me as being outrageously funny. That's all. :D
Did I say painful? Heh. Thrush is painful. Mastitis, meh. Got thrush two weeks ago on a Saturday and liked to have died. Bless icepacks and Diflucan. And bless Sarah Seamstress, who took care of my agonized self at nine in the evening.
Two weeks on the antifungals have passed, and I was still itchy/burny so I called my lactation consultant for help. She suggested more Diflucan and painting my nipples with Gentian Violet. Gentian Violet is like iodine, except it is purple-black and it smears and stains everything.
Since I have lost all modesty with the birth and breastfeeding, so I'm tempted to post a pic of my grotesque deep-purple nipples for your amusement. But I am restraining myself. Egor o
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Thrush
What a miserable night! One problem with a woman taking antibiotics is developing a yeast infection. Thankfully, I haven't had one of those in years. Until now. Did you know that yeast infections can occur in a breastfeeding mom's nipples? I'd heard of the dreaded nipple infection, thrush, from a former co-worker who struggled with it for four months. She was agonized by it. Out of fear I gobbled acidophilus tablets and guzzled yogurt while on anitbiotics. I suspect that I have been developing an infection since Wednesday, but it hit full force last night. Zow, what pain!
How can I describe the pain? Well, it was about an eight on my pain scale--an intense shooting, stabbing pain that took my breath away. Ibuprofen could not take off the edge of it. I slept with icepacks on my boobs. Unbelievable! Sarah Seamstress rescued my miserable self with a prescription for a powerful antifungal late yesterday evening. Although the medication didn't stop the infection in its tracks, the icepacks she recommended allowed me to sleep. Whew!
How can I describe the pain? Well, it was about an eight on my pain scale--an intense shooting, stabbing pain that took my breath away. Ibuprofen could not take off the edge of it. I slept with icepacks on my boobs. Unbelievable! Sarah Seamstress rescued my miserable self with a prescription for a powerful antifungal late yesterday evening. Although the medication didn't stop the infection in its tracks, the icepacks she recommended allowed me to sleep. Whew!
Wednesday, September 6, 2006
Mastitis
Last night I started shivering at nine in the evening. I continued to shiver with increasing violence until two a.m., when I became alarmed and woke up Tennisfiend. I took my temperature while he made me some hot tea. Naturally, I consulted our medical library and diagnosed myself with mastitis.
Breast pain? Check. Chills? Check. Fever? Check. Headache? Check. And so on. First thing in the morning I called Gretta Granola who confirmed my suspicions. She gave me a list of self care suggestions and told me she'd call me in the afternoon to see if I was any better. I shook and sweat all day. Since I just felt worse, she called in an antibiotic prescription for me. This sucks. The last thing I wanted was to start taking meds while I'm trying to breasfeed. Anyway, there should be no problem with nursing with this antibiotic, it just sucks to be sick.
Breast pain? Check. Chills? Check. Fever? Check. Headache? Check. And so on. First thing in the morning I called Gretta Granola who confirmed my suspicions. She gave me a list of self care suggestions and told me she'd call me in the afternoon to see if I was any better. I shook and sweat all day. Since I just felt worse, she called in an antibiotic prescription for me. This sucks. The last thing I wanted was to start taking meds while I'm trying to breasfeed. Anyway, there should be no problem with nursing with this antibiotic, it just sucks to be sick.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Gretta Granola
Today Tennisfiend, Tyoma and I visited our lactation consultant, Gretta Granola. She had visited me on my third day in the hospital since my nipples were so inflamed from breastfeeding. At the time, she could find no problem with my latch and seemed a bit mystified over my super-sore nipples.
Anyway, I am still sore as hell so I needed to see her, again. I was rather nervous about the appointment, since I had the feeling that she would be judgmental toward me. Sometimes earthy folk take exception to aging goth-types. She wound up being very sweet and helpful, I guess what I took as distance at the hospital was concern for my breastfeeding future. I learned a bit about my latch and had a very comfortable experience with her. Tennisfiend was utterly bored and skulked behind her, looking at his watch surreptitiously. I hope that her suggestions clear up any problems I was having so I can wean myself from the breast pump..
Anyway, I am still sore as hell so I needed to see her, again. I was rather nervous about the appointment, since I had the feeling that she would be judgmental toward me. Sometimes earthy folk take exception to aging goth-types. She wound up being very sweet and helpful, I guess what I took as distance at the hospital was concern for my breastfeeding future. I learned a bit about my latch and had a very comfortable experience with her. Tennisfiend was utterly bored and skulked behind her, looking at his watch surreptitiously. I hope that her suggestions clear up any problems I was having so I can wean myself from the breast pump..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)