September 1, 2009 — Surgery Day!
Alarm went off at 3am & we left at 4am. Arrived at the hospital by five and went to register.
As I was waiting in line, the guy in front of me limped up to the counter (he was on crutches). They asked his name and he gave it. They asked him to spell his last name & he kind of looked at them. They asked again & he spelled it. When they asked him to spell his first name, this guy broke out in a really bad sweat & just gazed at the women. His wife said, “I think he might go down” and he did. I grabbed him along with a couple other guys and we got him seated. They took him right back into the procedure room. I guess that’s one way to avoid lines!
Once in the back, I was hooked up to an IV to get fluids started and got some antibiotics through it as well. My wife and a guy from work kept me company while I waited. One of the unique things that they did before this surgery is they put me on some kind of float mattress. It was like a big red blow up raft. They laid it down under me and I guess they blow it up with air when they want to transfer me to another table. Makes sliding big people easier.
After meeting with the anesthesiologist & one of my surgeon’s partners, they came to get me for surgery about 7:15 am. As they were wheeling me out of the room, my head started to spin & the guy pushing the bed said, “You should feel good pretty quick. I slipped you a micky just before we left.” Feel good I did!
From that moment on, I don’t remember anything until waking up in the recovery room. That is always (for me) the worst part of surgery. You’re dazed, confused, and totally stoned out of your mind and then a lady starts urging you, “Breathe, Mr. Marshall. Breathe!” I always want to tell them, “I am breathing! If I weren’t I wouldn’t be able to talk to you”, but apparently I’m not breathing correctly. Funny, since I’ve been breathing my whole life.
Anyway, when I woke up this time, apparently I really had trouble coming around. My pulse ox dropped really low and wouldn’t come up. I heard one of them say that it was 68 at one point. Even though I’m not a doctor, I know that’s REALLY low, so that had me a little concerned…
What concerned me more was that three fingers on my left hand were completely numb & tingling. It was like I had laid on my hand for hours. It really hurt. That concerned me because I didn’t know if something had happened during surgery (stroke, etc.) that might have damaged my brain or nerves or if it was normal. Being out of it, I couldn’t really communicate that to them. I was just like, “My fingers are numb (incoherent mumbling)…”
Turns out, I spent over 4 hours in recovery. Finally got to my room and slept most of the remainder of the day.
I had been fearing two things pre-op: not drinking afterwards & the catheter. Turns out neither thing was that bad.
I wasn’t allowed to drink any liquids, but they did give me a mouth sponge that I could dip in ice chips and wet my lips and mouth. It was amazing! Nothing after surgery tasted sweeter than that wetness. It helped me keep my sanity until my upper GI.
Being a pastor, I had seen guys hooked to catheters & they really seemed to hate them. I actually had two guys I was visiting separately throw back their covers and scream, “Look what they did to me!” as they showed me their catheters (AWKWARD & UNCOMFORTABLE!). So that had me freaked out, but the catheter wasn’t as bad as I had envisioned. Unless I moved wrong or one of the nurses really joggled it when emptying it, I really didn’t notice it much. The worst part was getting it out. It felt like I was going to pee the bed but apparently, that’s just your muscles coming back together and it only lasts a second or two.
So, that’s my post-surgery post. I’ll let you know about my hospital stay in the next one.
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