Go Buckeyes!

We all dressed on our Ohio State apparel for the OSU vs. Michigan game on Saturday.  Since Alice was born, OSU has never lost to Michigan. Simon's 1st grade teacher is a Michigan fan, and he loves to tease her by wearing his OSU clothing as much as possible.

Thanksgiving

We started Thanksgiving with out tradition of pretending we're going to cook Simon, but then deciding once again that he's too scrawny.

My parents entertained the kids

while I laid on the couch in pain

and Zac cooked us a lovely Thanksgiving dinner.

I barely made it through the meal before needing to go back to laying on the couch. The week since surgery ended up being very painful, expecially when sitting or standing. So I mostly laid on the couch and watched shows. It sounds fun, in theory, but I hated it.

Fall play and bike rides with the grandparents

While I was in the hospital for 4 days and for the week after my surgery when I was home, but mostly immobilized on the couch, my parents took care of the kids, making sure they got on the bus in the morning and picking them after school. They played games and legos with them, and gave them lots of personalized attention. On the weekend they played outside and went on bike rides.

Sera's Second Surgery

On Nov 21st, I had my second surgery. The original plan had been to get a Jpouch, but after having a horribly painful recurring ulcer in my anus, it was decided that the safest option for me would be not to reconnect, but rather to shut everything down. That means I had my rectal stump and anus removed, and my butthole sewed shut.  In the ostomate community this surgery is known as a "Barbie butt."  I hate that name for it, but you get the idea.

My parents flew in Wednesday night to take care of the kids, and very early Thursday morning, Zac drove me to the UNC hospital at Chapel Hill for the surgery.  Here I am before the operation. (Last picture of me with an asshole!)

The surgery went well, and after two days I didn't feel too bad overall--just a lot of pain in my butt.

Last time I was in 6 East, so I'm glad I got to experience both wings of the GI ward.

The view out my room window was much better this time.

Here I am eating my traditional lemon meringue pie on release day!

After 4 days and 3 nights in the hospital, it was good to be back home and the kids were glad to see me!

Here's a reflection I wrote after the surgery, kind of combining my experiences of both surgeries.

Rebirth through Surgery: A Reflection by Sera Arcaro 12-3-2019

The week before Thanksgiving, I completed my second (and hopefully last!) surgery in the Ulcerative Colitis Run Amok series. I’ve been having some thoughts about my two surgical experiences, so here’s my TED Talk (-:

Going through a major surgery is probably the closest an adult gets to experiencing what it’s like to be a newborn. Being in the hospital is like a time lapse of infancy, a backwards death, a rebirth.

As the anesthesia starts to wear off, you go from a state of blissful non-existence to awareness of light and sound and place. Vague, unformed thoughts ooze through your primordial brain. After a while, your eyes can somewhat focus and your thoughts start to take shape, but it is impossible to form them into words--the work required to catch the slippery amoebas and put them into a code of sounds to be understood by others is too hard. So you just lay there, sludgy-brained and unable to move, imprisoned in your body.

Gradually, you start to feel the pain. Your abdomen feels bruised and confused--like someone took out each organ, punched it a couple of times, and put it back in the wrong place. Your thoughts are doughy blobs, but you manage to push one through the noodle press and slur, “It hurts!” A nurse shows you a magic button that makes the pain go away. You get some relief and fall asleep.

When you wake, your thoughts are a bit clearer, your ability to speak a bit easier, despite your swollen and useless tongue. You appreciate that for now, thanks to the catheter and ostomy bag, at least you don’t have to worry about getting out of bed to use the restroom--a task that seems both formidable and unbearably painful. You soon figure out that you can push a different button and a nurse will come and swaddle you in a warm blanket. You sleep a lot.

But this state of slumber cannot last--you must make progress. You are encouraged to try to sit up, to drink, to try to eat some jello. They cut off your I.V. umbilical cord and soon you are told you need to walk, to eat solid food, to pee in the plastic hat in the toilet. Daily life is suddenly full of pressure and expectations--there are benchmarks to meet and every input and output is measured and recorded. You get praised for completing the most basic tasks such as urinating successfully or eating a meal without throwing up. A highly trained surgeon comes into the room and says, “Wow, you had meatloaf and mashed potatoes! And no nausea? Excellent!” It feels good to have these accomplishments recognized and appreciated.

Little by little, you get stronger, and one morning, you have finally met all the requirements to be released from the hospital. They wheel you out of the hospital and you get into your waiting car to be driven home. The brain fog has finally fully lifted and your tongue feels normal again. You can easily communicate your thoughts in complete sentences now, but as you look out the car window at the fall colors, what you want to say the most is still hard to express: how aware you are of just how temporal any existence is, how grateful you are to be alive at all on this planet, how you feel like you’ve experienced your mortality backwards, and how lucky you are to be able to get better. 

Although you’ve not fully recovered yet, you know that this pain and debilitation won’t last forever, that you’ll get a little better every day, and gradually you’ll return to the normalcy of life. And then, some sunny spring morning, when you are out hiking in the woods again, you’ll remember what it was like when you were stuck in that sterile white hospital bed, and you’ll enjoy feeling the strength of your body pushing against the earth, propelling you forward through the forest.

Last walk

By Wednesday afternoon I had all my sub plans for the next four weeks ready and I left work early enough to take a final walk on the greenway before my surgery the next morning. I enjoyed feeling so good on the walk--knowing what was coming and that walking would probably be quite painful for a long time after the surgery.

After the walk, I picked up the kids from school and drove them to the airport to pick up Nelson and Stana, who would stay with us during my time in the hospital and through Thanksgiving.

Hemlock Bluffs Fall Hike

On Sunday, I took the kids to nearby Hemlock Bluffs for a final fall hike before my surgery on Thursday morning.  I relished the bright blue sky and fall colors, and the sun and the cool air and the ability to walk painlessly through this world. I knew there were dark times ahead, so I tried to savor this day as much as possible.  The kids were generally in good spirits and we had a fun time.

 

Dancing in the Driveway

Hagnieres Ghost Walk

Robyn and Franklin invited the whole daycare crowd plus a bunch of other miscellaneous people with kids out to their house for a post-halloween "ghost walk."  They have a nice big woods in their backyard, and Franklin made a trail with various Halloween inflatables and ghost ziplines. It was pretty cool! Their house is also really awesome, and there's a whole play room above the garage that is great for kids.

Painting buddies

Simon and Ellie love to paint together.

Day 3: Oconee Falls & Linville Caverns

On Monday morning, we packed up and departed our lovely accommodation.

Within the community where we rented the cabin, there was a lovely mountain stream area called Oconee Falls.  We stopped there on our way out to explore, and it turned out to be great fun.  The kids love rock hopping and climbing over boulders.  Even although the day was warmer, it was still too cold to play in the water, as tempting as it was.

This kids played here for a long time.

Even the grown-ups enjoy the rock-hopping.

Of course, the day you leave is always the most beautiful!

Our final stop was at the nearby Linville Caverns. It was really cool to see all the limestone formations inside.

No cave would be complete without its Shelob.

After the tour, we went back outside and let the kids play on the rocks of a nearby stream for a little bit, before getting in the van and driving home. 

Both kids slept a lot on the ride home!