The "S" Word

Surgery.


The big day cameth...ith.

I wasn't nervous, scared or second guessing this decision. The day was here and it all seemed so routine or methodical. Surreal is probably more what I was actually feeling. I kind of just went through the motions, no excitement, no chit-chat, rather calm and ready for whatever.

They sign you in. Take you back. WEIGH you AGAIN. Put you in your gown, your socks and lay you on a slice of cardboard big enough for Barbie and maybe, just maybe if Ken sucks it in, him too. Definitely not wide or long enough for you to relax. Go figure.

The pre-op nurse asks you a thousand questions, most of which you have answered already. Questions such as...Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

She takes your blood pressure, your temperature, and so on. And then she shivs you with a needle as big around as your finger. Don't let that little piece of pink plastic fool you. There is nothing cute or dainty about starting an I.V.

As soon as the I.V. is started they bring back whoever is with you. They tell you this a thousand times. The person who walked me to the pre-op check-in area, the receptionist at pre-op check-in, the nurse who walked me to a room to get dressed for pre-op (pre-pre-op?) and the pre-op nurse all said "Anyone with you? We will bring him back as soon as your I.V. is started."

What they don't realize is, a husband/wife/sister/mom whoever is going to wait for the next few hours with 50 strangers and their misbehaving children and or screaming babies while you go under a knife in the hands of strangers will need their caffeine.

What they also don't figure is, the cafeteria is about 10 miles away from pre-op & surgery center. NO coffee in the waiting room. WHY? Who knows. But someone needs to consider it. Because when they called my husband oh, 50 times, he was walking back from beyond-far-Egypt with his precious thimble of $2 coffee. And he ALMOST missed seeing me before surgery.

Then another person comes and asks you...Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

Then the doctor comes. I don't know what your doctor will talk to you about, but my conversation went like this:

Dr. F: Are you ready?
Me: Yes, are you?
Dr. F: I am always ready. See you in a few minutes.
Me: Okay.

That was it. We don't dance around our conversation. No small talk for us. Just down to the nitty-gritty and we're off.

Then the anesthesiologist comes to visit. He asks you a couple of questions. Questions that seem VAGUELY familiar. Repeat after me: Any allergies? How do you react to them? When was your last period? Anyone with you today? What's his name? Does he have a cell phone?

Can they NOT read a chart? I am sure it was written down somewhere at some point. See, I think they are trying to trip you up. They want to see if they can catch you in a lie or find a bit of new information you hadn't divulged in the last 6000 times you were asked these very same questions.

But I held firm. I gave them nothing they could use against me. My offish-ee-al membership in the Harriet the Spy Club was worth every one of those 83 boxtops of cereal I ate at the age of 10. Yes it was.

At this point things go a little fuzzy. Having told the anesthesiologist that anesthesia has, in the past, made me deathly ill he came in with a little happy juice for my veins. He injected it into the gaping hole that was my I.V. and I was out. Okay so fuzzy wasn't a good word for what I fest at this point. Blackness. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Lights out. I was a goner.

Woke up in my room. Okay, so here is where it is appropriate to use the word fuzzy. People came to see me. Talk to me. Called me. No memory of it. Any of it. Apparently I am quite the funny girl on pain meds. Who knew?

So that was my surgery day in a nutshell. Or in a post or whatever. I cannot promise yours will go the same. But my hopes are that it would. Uneventful and successful are good outcomes for surgery.

The hospital completely followed through with my original expectation, I had surgery. The Head Nurse/Ring Master would be so incensed to know I answered right.