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I wasn’t thinking about dying. I was thinking about the helicopter crashing. I just wanted to get back on solid ground.
Eight days earlier, I watched a helicopter carry my newborn grandson, Henry, to Twin Falls. On October 1, it was my turn. By 11:00 that morning, I was in surgery, and afterward the surgeon told me that if I hadn’t come in when I did, I wouldn’t have survived. I’m six weeks into my cecal volvulus recovery now, at my daughter Kier’s house, where I came to help with a new baby.
I should have gone in a lot sooner. This is how it happened.
A year of stomach trouble I kept explaining away
For about a year I had bad stomach cramps every month or two. I tried one diet and then another to calm the episodes down. I didn’t have much insurance, so I put off going in.
On July 31, the pain finally won, and I went to the ER. It was the last day I had any insurance. They told me I had a peptic ulcer.
That diagnosis didn’t sit well with me. I was proving it wrong with what I ate. Then I thought maybe it was lactose intolerance. I kept looking for my own answer, and I kept going.
The week Henry came home
In September I was in Idaho helping Kier get ready for the baby. J came out later in the month. Henry came early, on September 23. His birth turned scary in the last few minutes, and that afternoon I stood with Kier and watched the flight crew take him past us one last time before the helicopter left for Twin Falls. Kier had to stay at the first hospital, and his dad drove over to be with him in the NICU.
It was already a hectic week, with a new baby in the NICU.
On Monday, September 28, the cramps started again. They were bad. On Tuesday, Kier brought Henry home from the NICU.
I came to Idaho in August to help get ready for him and to help after he arrived. The day he came home, I stayed in my room, doubled over with pain.
The pain kept on through Wednesday and into Thursday morning.
How I knew this time was different
I had been through these episodes for a year, so I knew how they usually went. This one didn’t go that way.
It lasted longer than any of the others. My bowel movements changed. I hadn’t eaten in two days. Then the vomiting started, and the last time, it was bile.
That was the one that got me.
At 4:00 Thursday morning, I woke J up and told him I couldn’t take the pain any longer. We were at the ER by 5:00.
I didn’t know the name for it yet. A volvulus is when part of the intestine twists around itself, and it’s a medical emergency that needs surgery. Mine was in the cecum, the pouch where the small and large intestine meet. All I knew that morning was that this was not my usual stomach trouble.
Afraid of the wrong thing
The ER started running tests right away and helped with the pain. At 9:15, they were loading me into a helicopter to Twin Falls, the same city they had flown Henry to eight days earlier. You can read about the day Henry was born and flown to Twin Falls in the post before this one.
The strange thing about being airlifted is that I had absolutely no idea how serious my condition was. J had taken me to the emergency room that morning, and neither of us realized how close I was to losing my life. While I was in the air, he drove to Twin Falls by himself, not knowing what would be waiting for us when he got there. It was an emotional drive for him.
I spent that flight worried about the helicopter and trying to free my hands to get a picture or two in my camera roll, not about me.
Two helicopters to Twin Falls in eight days. One for Henry, and one for his Lolli.
What the surgeon told me
I was in surgery by 11:00. The surgeon removed a third of my large intestine and part of my small intestine, then connected them back together.
He said my intestines were in knots and flipped. He said it was very severe, and that it wasn’t something that happened overnight. He thought the twisting was probably happening every time I had one of those episodes. All year.
Then he said that if I hadn’t come in when I did, I wouldn’t have survived.
My cecal volvulus recovery started with that sentence. I was in my hospital bed with J beside me when he said it.
His words come back to me almost every day. A lot of thoughts have gone through my head since. It’s scary to think about, but I do.
The one that comes back the most is how thankful I am that I went to the ER that morning, even without insurance. That episode felt worse, and a little different, and this time I listened.
My cecal volvulus recovery, six weeks in
When they wheeled me out of recovery, Kier’s whole family was in my room. I know I had a big smile on my face, and I got emotional. They had all made the hour-and-a-half drive to see me. I couldn’t believe it.
They came back five days later, and someone set Henry on my lap. I couldn’t lift him. I could only hold him there. That was the first day of my cecal volvulus recovery that had Henry in it.
My cecal volvulus recovery has been harder than I imagined. It has been a rough six weeks. The back pain has been the worst. I’ve lost weight, and it has left me weak. I’m uncomfortable most of the time. I can’t lift anything for another two weeks.
J stayed and took care of me for the first month of my cecal volvulus recovery. Then he went home to look after the homestead.
I have good days. Then I have bad ones.
When the helper needs help
I came to Kier’s house to help my daughter with her new baby. I came to take care of things around the house and to enjoy those newborn weeks with Henry. Instead, I’m the one who needs help. I can’t do the things I normally would, and I can’t really hold Henry yet.
Kier helps me. Madeline helps me, in her own way. I watch other people do the jobs I would normally be doing, and I do the small ones I can. I try to help wherever I can, with whatever I can. Some days my cecal volvulus recovery leaves room for a lot of small things. Some days it leaves room for almost nothing.
The hardest part of my cecal volvulus recovery is when Henry is crying, and I can’t pick him up.
When I think about what could have happened, I remind myself there will be time to hold him. Time to help Kier. Time to make memories with Henry and Madeline. I came very close to losing all of those tomorrows.
So for now, my cecal volvulus recovery is mostly practice. Practice being patient with myself. Practice accepting the help.
The signs I wish I’d taken seriously sooner
Before my cecal volvulus recovery started, I had a year of signs. Looking back, this is what that year looked like for me:
- Bad stomach cramps every month or two
- Changing my diet over and over to try to ease them
- An ER visit and a peptic ulcer diagnosis that didn’t feel right to me
- A second guess at lactose intolerance
And this is what the last episode looked like, the one that put me in the helicopter:
- Pain that went on for more than two days
- Changes in my bowel movements
- Two days without eating
- Vomiting, and then vomiting bile
I’m not a doctor, and I can’t tell you what your pain means. I can only tell you what mine turned out to be. If your own year looks anything like mine, that’s worth a real conversation with a doctor, not another new diet.
What I’d tell another grandma
If you’re a grandma who has been putting off your own pain because of the cost, or because you’re too busy taking care of everyone else, here is what I would tell you from Kier’s house, six weeks into my cecal volvulus recovery.
As hard as it is to take time for yourself, listen to your body. Only you know what feels right or wrong. If a diagnosis doesn’t feel right, go with your gut. Mine didn’t feel right. I was right, and I still waited.
Seek medical attention if you need it, no matter the cost. I put it off because of the cost, and I almost let that cost me everything. If cost is what’s keeping you home, an emergency room has to screen you and treat an emergency even if you don’t have insurance.
If I’d ignored that last episode the way I ignored the others, I wouldn’t be writing this.
Henry is seven weeks old, and I still can’t pick him up.
But I’m here. I’m still his Lolli, and Madeline’s.
If you’ve put off your own care, or gone from helper to the one who needs help, I’d like to hear your story in the comments. And if you subscribe, you’ll see the next one, about Madeline’s first weeks as a big sister while her Lolli was recovering.