I say begrudgingly because... well... I really didn't wanna go.
But if I complained about my incisions one more time, I think Carrie might've handcuffed me, thrown me in the car and drove me down to the doctor herself.
I had a few main reasons that I needed to make the (short) trip down to the hospital.
The Never Healing Incision
You remember this from the previous post, back in January. That darned incision near my ribs just wouldn't close up. It would seem to close up... but then a shower would reveal that it wasn't scar tissue, but crust that was closing up the hole. I went through a few cycles of scraping the crust out of the inside of the hole, getting it to bleed a little, then watching it heal up a little bit more. A few weeks ago I think it finally almost closed up completely. It hardly leaks any fluid now... even when pinched. But it still doesn't look the greatest, and it hurts a little bit too. Here is a newer picture which you can compare with the one from the last post.
A Pain in the Side
Besides my annoying little unhealing incision, things were looking pretty good for the first six or seven months after my donation. That is, until I noticed I was starting to get an occasional sharp stabbing pain in my abdominal muscles, just above the biggest incision. Here's an oddly proportioned picture to give you an idea of the spot (marked with an X).
The stabbing pain would hit me when I rolled a certain way in bed or if I moved a certain way at work. I started probing around with my fingers to find the spot in question and discovered a small (pea sized) bump there. When I pressed on the bump with my fingers it hurt... a lot.
I also found that the area around the bump was getting pretty sore after a long day of leaning over a drawing table at Six Flags.
I had been warned that my incisions could take up to a year to heal and that it might be a while before I felt right. But the little bump (and stabbing pain that accompanied it) concerned me somewhat. I've been schlepping around 60-70 pound boxes at my other job and wouldn't be surprised if I'd overdone it a little bit. Supposedly, incisional hernias in kidney donors are rare, but I guess I'd be just as good a candidate as any.
The Doctor's Visit
I scheduled my visit for Tuesday morning and arrived at the Doctors Office Building armed with a book and fully expecting to wait a good two or three hours.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Surgery waiting room in the DOB is filled with people meeting with the transplant team. I don't mind that part of the wait, as there are lots of kidney donors and recipients hanging around and I enjoy eavesdropping on their conversations. Eventually, I'm whisked away to get my vitals taken and then plopped back out into the waiting room for a little while longer. I finish the book that I brought and soon am called into an exam room where I wait a little while longer for the doctor to come.
My surgeon eventually comes into the room and greets me. Asks me if I'm feeling okay, to which I rudely reply... "Well, there's a reason that I'm here today." (Thinking... "Duh... I didn't just come here for a social visit.) Perhaps it's his accent, or maybe just the way that he is, but he always seems somewhat condescending and I immediately feel stupid for having scheduled this appointment.
First I show him my never-healing incision, which is now almost healed, and he is unimpressed. He says that that area will be more sensitive because it is on the ribs and it will just take a while to heal.
I raise my concerns about the painful spot and he has me lie back while he asks a few questions. He takes both of his hands and pushes down on my muscle while he has me *cough* *cough* *cough*. And then he tells me that he doesn't think I have a hernia but maybe the bump I'm feeling is just a "knot". He says I'm just going to have to put up with it. He then gives me a lecture on scar tissue and how it doesn't move the same as the other tissue so it's always going to feel weird and maybe a little bit painful.
Of course, if the bump gets bigger or any more painful, I'm supposed to come back in and see him again. And he definitely wants to see me in four months for my one-year check-up.
I left the DOB, somewhat irritated that I'd wasted my morning but also grateful to know that I supposedly don't have a hernia. I guess I'll let you know if anything comes of it. Otherwise, I'll see you in four months!
