My parents drove me to the hospital. I wasn't allowed to wear any make-up (guh, I hated going out in public without my mascara!) and I could only wear loose-fitting clothing. Basically, I looked a hot mess, but so did everyone else who was having surgery that day, so I wasn't -too- concerned.
|Credit Valley Hospital - the last stop for my gallbladder|
I registered, got my nifty green hospital wrist-band, went to the 2nd floor, and the waiting game began. It was about 40 minutes until I was told to undress and put on the most STYLISH blue hospital gown and booties. More waiting in another area with similarly dressed people, while Judge Judy blared on the TV in the background. No one seemed to pay attention to it - everyone (including myself) seemed stuck in their own little world, most likely praying our surgeries would go without incident. Man, nerves were getting the best of me at this point.
|I was given this pager while waiting to be called in for surgery. It was like I was at a really crappy restaurant!|
I was finally called in by a nurse, where I was weighed. Hey! I've lost 20 pounds! Not too shabby. She gave me various pills to take with only a teensy tiny bit of water. My vitals were taken. I was asked a bazillion questions about my health. Then, I was given this needle in the back of my arm that would prevent blood clots during the surgery. MY GOD THIS NEEDLE HURT. This was no ordinary needle - it literally felt like a bee was stinging me for a good 15 minutes after she stuck it in me. I actually had to ask to make sure the needle wasn't still stuck in there. Yowza. I never expected that!
Back to the waiting room. More waiting. Then, out of no where, I was told my surgery was bumped up an hour! I said goodbye to my mom, gave her a hug, and was escorted behind a huge set of sliding doors into the "surgery wing." A nice lady led me to a large chair, which I sat in. She went and got me a hot blanket to put over me while I... take a guess.... waited some more!
Various nurses, including my anesthesiologist and surgeon, came to visit and discuss the procedure with me. No turning back now! I kept telling them all how nervous I was, and I was reassured over and over again that I was in good hands.
A new nurse came to fetch me to tell me it was time for my surgery. I quickly made a stop at the bathroom first, where I said a quick little prayer. I took a deep breath, walked out, met up with that nurse, and she walked me into a room that looked like a scene out of the X-Files.
First off, let me just say I did not think I would have to walk into the surgery room on my own. I figured someone would give me an IV, and then I'd be wheeled in. This was not the case - I walked in on my own with nothing hooked to me. For someone who is afraid of surgery, this was tough. The room was large and clinical, with about 6 people in it, all dressed with surgical masks. Lots of white with silver metal instruments all over the place. Chilly. Huge, incredibly daunting lights and tiny TV screens filled the area. Smack dab in the middle, was the table I was to lie on.
I was instructed to take off my hospital gown (thus, exposing my bum.) I did this, and quickly scooted onto the table. It was embarrassing, but hey... these people were going to see my insides soon, anyway. A warm blanket was placed on me, my vitals were once again checked, and one particularly friendly nurse started making small talk with me.
The friendly nurse was my, "beside manner" person. She tried to calm me down as much as possible, and reassured me that blankets would cover all my private parts, and that only my abdomen would be exposed. She asked about my University experience and she talked to me about her daughter who also attended the same University. She inquired about my work and my family - the basic small talk that was intended to get my mind off of the fact that I was in a very scary room, about to undergo a very scary (in my mind) procedure.
A nurse put the IV in my hand (no big deal, didn't really hurt) and a gas mask was placed on my face. I hated this thing - the gas tasted horrible, and I really wanted them to take it off. I was asked if I was feeling dizzy, and eventually I said, yes I was. I assume they started the process of knocking my ass out, because the last thing I remember was the very friendly nurse telling me that I was going to go to sleep now.
Aaaaand then I woke up. In a panic. I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't I breathe?! Was I dying?! My lungs were struggling for breath, but I felt like they just were not working. I was in another room and there was a nurse by my side. I quickly squeaked out the words, "I can't breathe!" She looked at me with these super concerned eyes, then immediately another nurse was at my side. They talked to each other in concerned tones. An oxygen mask was placed on my face. I was instructed to breathe in and out of my nose (and not my mouth.) I eventually was able to start taking some shallow breaths. Phew.
I'm not sure what happened to cause this. I think maybe the breathing tube was removed, and my lungs just didn't adapt to breathing on their own again as quickly as they should. For the next little while (although it could have been an hour, I'm not sure) I drifted in and out of consciousness. A nurse came by and asked what my pain level was from 1-10. I was definitely hurting, so I told her an 8. I was given morphine into my IV and I remember opening my eyes every once in awhile and then closing them just as fast. I was aware I was in a large room with many nurses, and even more patients who had also just undergone surgery. It was noisy, and there was a lot going on, but I was in my own little world.
I vaguely remember waking up at one point to a nurse washing my face with a very damp cloth. I also recall her commenting on how, "pale" I looked. I quickly fell back asleep.
Eventually, I was wheeled into another recovery room that was less busy and had a large skylight with the sun shining in. Things were more tranquil here. I had to get up and sit in a big comfy chair. I noticed that there was blood staining my hospital gown, and the nurse came to examine my stitches. She put some more gauze on them to stop the bleeding. My chest felt heavy and my throat was killing. I asked the nurse if this was normal, and I received the same super concerned eyes as before. My collar bone also hurt. Honestly, I was just a big ball of hurt.
Apparently, during the time I was in recovery, the surgeon had paged my parents and told them my surgery was complete. No complications. I had to go see him in three weeks to talk about the surgery and the results of the biopsy on my gallbladder, but for now he deemed everything a success.
My parents eventually came in and sat beside me. I was asked if I wanted some apple juice or ginger ale. I chose apple juice, but could only get a bit of it down. I was still very out of it, and still in quite a bit of pain. All I wanted to do was sleep, but the nurses had other ideas. One nurse asked my mom is I was normally, "this pale." My mom said I'm pale, but my skin tone was taking a greyish hue. My vitals were checked, my IV was removed, and I was told it was time to go home. But my chest ached! But I still couldn't take deep breaths! But I just need a bit more time to close my eyes! They weren't having any of it. I had to leave now.
A wheelchair was called for me, and my mom wheeled me downstairs where we waited for my dad to pick up my pain meds (tramadol/acetaminophen) and then to bring the car around to the front entrance. I felt SO tired. I just wanted to sleep. When the car came, my parents helped me into the front seat and I pleaded with my dad to avoid the potholes on the way home. I'm not even sure I put on my seatbelt (horrible, I know... but it was the last thing on my mind.)
I got home, laid down on the couch and my recovery began...