The morning of June 6th dawned bright and early. Well actually it dawned the night before because needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep. I was stressing big time about my upcoming surgery and about to call my doctor and tell her I wasn’t going to go through with it. To take my mind off of it, I made sure I had everything packed and ready to go. I double checked everything I thought I could possibly want. Not having ever had to stay in the hospital overnight before, I didn’t know what to prepare for. I am truly an over-packer.
Morbidly enough I wrote out a directive of my wishes too. I don’t know if that’s legal or not, but in case there was any question of “What if?” I wanted my loved ones to know my wishes. They needed to know if preferred cremation or burial, if I wanted life support, who gets my stuff (you know the really important issues). I really didn’t think anything would go catastrophically wrong, but I have a habit of thinking worst-case-scenario. I feel like preparing for the worst helps ensure the worst won’t happen.
My thoughts exactly!
When I finally came downstairs in the morning I was super crabby. It’s not like I felt the need to be a happy-go-lucky gal like I was going off to enjoy myself at a party or anything, but I was really pissy. About everything. The fact that the sky was blue was grating on my nerves. Don’t even get me started on those damn chirping birds!
My brother had insisted on coming with me to the surgery. He took the day off from work and everything. My aunt was going to drive me and I kept telling him he didn’t need to be there. It really was very sweet of him to want to go. Still, I was irrationally bitchy toward him all morning as we waited to leave for the hospital (we had all gotten up and gotten ready ridiculously early). I kept snapping at him and being snotty. I felt like a cranky three-year old. It’s not that I didn’t want him there…I know I didn’t even want to be there. I don’t know what my problem was!
He kept trying to be supportive and nice to me and it was really bugging me. (Horribly right? That someone dare be NICE to me???) I seriously wanted him to start being mean back to me and he just wouldn’t which annoyed me even more. I know that I was being a brat to him because I needed the outlet for all my angst and my pent-up fear about the surgery; and he was letting me take it out on him which was quasi-heroic (at least in my eyes). Still, to this day I feel bad about my attitude when he was trying to help and be supportive. I’m sure he understands, but my heart hurts a little every time I think of the pained expressions on his face when I would snap at him. Sorry Bubba.
Soon it was time to go, and with my heart pounding out a beat so loud I swore everyone could hear it, I climbed into the car. The ride was pretty uneventful. It was early, but not so early that we beat rush hour. Luckily for us the hospital was south and it seemed most of the traffic was headed north toward the freeways. We had the occasional hiccup here and there as we neared major intersections. Of course every time we stopped or slowed down I entertained the thought of either opening the door, or rolling down the window and jumping out to make a break for it. I was filled with dread. I don’t even think I was this anxious when I took that flight to Vegas for the race last year!
Before I knew it, we had arrived. I felt as though the hospital was looming over me. Although it’s a newer hospital and very nice and comforting looking (it actually looks like a church from one angle or a really nice hotel from another), I pictured the building as a big monsters head. The windows to the rooms were the eyes and the large entrance with the long porte-cochere was the mouth and tongue that was yawning wide-open to swallow me whole. I was not being the least bit dramatic about it or anything.
We quickly (too quickly), found where we needed to be and before I knew it, I was checked in with one of those high-fashioned hospital bracelets wrapped around my wrist. Actually I had like 3 of those bad-boys on. One had my info, one had a bar code on it, and the other one was to inform the hospital of my blood type in case I would need a transfusion during the surgery. I was hoping that last bit was a precautionary measure they take for every surgery, and not just for mine because it was a surgery that involved a lot of blood loss. During all my research (I really need to not Google things and watch surgery videos on YouTube right before going under the knife), I had not read anything about that being a possibility so I was hoping for the former.
We barely had time to sit in the waiting room before they were calling me back. It was time to get prepped. As I followed the nurse back to the pre-surgery area my hands started sweating, my mouth got all cottony, and I was feeling light-headed. I looked longingly at the emergency exit and decided if I bolted through that door it would make too much of a scene. The nurse was walking slightly ahead of me, as perky and chipper as could be, chatting away about no particular thing. I could barely hear her due to the sound of the blood pumping in my ears. I actually almost ran into her when she stopped in front of my little assigned bed area.
She had me sit, scanned the bar code on my arm (I am not a number! I am a person!) and then asked me about a billion questions like who I was, what kind of surgery I was having, allergies, etc. Then she took me into the bathroom and gave me a very stylish gown, a cap, and a pair of those socks with the tread on them so you don’t slip around. She also gave me some antibacterial wipes and I was told to wipe myself down with them. They had already made me shower for the three days prior to my surgery with Hibicleanse. She explained to me that with the rise of diseases like MRSA and staph infections, they tried to take every precaution available. Works for me! I didn’t want to end up with one of those icky things on top of everything else, so I gladly wiped myself down one last time.
If you are not familiar with Hibicleanse, it’s an antibacterial wash that they use in hospitals. They also recommend it for people with chronic illnesses, and people who are going to have surgery. It’s supposed to be super-antibiotic and will kill whatever germs you may have lurking on your body. No one bothered to warn me about the color of the Hibicleanse before I used it for the first time. I had bought a small bottle (Apparently a little goes a long way) from the pharmacy at my grocery store. The first night I showered with it, I just popped the cap open and squirted it all over myself. I looked down and nearly fainted. I looked like a scene from the movie Carrie when she was at the prom after they dumped the pig’s blood on her. This stuff was red and was running down my body in rivulets so it looked like I was bleeding profusely. Needless to say, after that first shower I was a little wigged out. I got used to it by the third day-but still (shudder).
After I completed my last round of de-germing myself I donned my beautiful gown and made my way back to my area. I felt so glamorous with the too big gown (gaping severely in the back), the fuzzy grey socks, hair in a sloppy ponytail and no make-up on. As I glided (I couldn’t really sashay in that gown) down the corridor back to my area, I distracted myself from my looming panic for a moment, by visualizing myself walking down a red-carpet dressed in that getup. I even toyed with the idea of doing the ‘elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist’ wave of the beauty queen as I made my way down the aisle (while clutching the gown in the back so not to put on a show).
As soon as I got into the bed on wheels, numerous nurses began to drift in and out of my area. They all asked me the same questions: name, what was I there for, my social security number, etc. They all repeatedly scanned my bar code as well. I guess it made me feel a little better that they were verifying all of my info so much. At first I thought the bar code was for the same thing, but later someone told me they scan the bar code for each thing they do so they can bill the insurance company for it later. That made much more sense!
Soon I was hooked up to an IV (after several unsuccessful attempts-including one that resulted in a big bubble of fluid under my skin. Seeing that freaked me out even more if that was even possible!), I had on a blood pressure cuff, electrodes on my chest, and they had wrapped these funny compression things around my legs that had tubes sticking out of them. I felt like a patient on Grey’s Anatomy, minus the perfectly done hair and make-up that all the patients on that show seem to come in with. My heart rate went into overdrive and I started wondering how far I could make running it with those things wrapped around my legs.
I was left for a moment with my increasingly erratic and panicked thoughts and they brought my brother and Aunt Kim back to sit with me until it was time to go.
Doesn’t that spiffy blue hair net bring out my eyes? Such a glamorous shot I know!
It’s almost an awkward feeling sitting with people when you are in such a vulnerable position as lying on a gurney and covered in baggy cotton with tubes and wires sticking out of you. At that point I think we were all just nervous and making inane conversation that I don’t really remember. My doctor came by and introduced herself to my brother and aunt, I met the anesthesiologist, a few of the nurses and an orderly. Once again, each of them checked my bands, scanned me and asked a million questions. I wanted to be snarky and ask for a pen and paper so I could just write it all down, but I thought I better be polite to the people who were going to be holding sharp objects and ensuring I kept breathing.
Soon I had to say goodbye to my family. Not before they gave me a shot of what I now think of as the most amazing thing in the world. I can’t remember exactly what it was called (Ativan?). It took about two seconds for that happy juice to hit my bloodstream and I was floating on a cloud made of rainbows, kitten fur, and jellybeans.
All of my anxieties were immediately gone and I just felt…relaxed and happy. I almost didn’t recognize that feeling, it had been so long since I felt relaxed! I could feel a big cheesy grin spread across my face. I wanted to hold on to that feeling, but soon they were wheeling me down the hall and into a very cold operating room (of course I didn’t care that the room was cold after my wonderful shot). I saw my doctor again and she introduced the nurses which I thought was nice. They had me scooch over to another surface (another bed? Another table? Who knows?). It was awkward, the scooching. I felt so relaxed I didn’t even have control over my limbs. I could feel my gown riding up on me, but wasn’t so concerned about it. I figured they’d be seeing a lot more of me than that in a few minutes anyway. They covered me with a heated blanket which banished the cold chill I had gotten from freezing room. With that blanket and my shot I was all warm and cozy and didn’t want to move out of that moment.
The last thing I remember was them putting the big plastic thing over my mouth and telling me to breathe deep. I don’t think they even had me count backwards like I always see them do on T.V. Soon I was out.
Runs Through Sprinklers 