surgery and aftermath
Jan. 6th, 2015 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jinianYesterday I got an operation! So far it was a really good idea. Here is what went down.
It is worth noting that Green Cab/Yellow Cab of Somerville does not phone you when it arrives, or ring the doorbell, or do anything except sit there for five minutes and then go away. At least they come back promptly when you ring dispatch. Still, wtf.
The automatic revolving door at the hospital main entrance had two large compartments for humans to go in (at a slow and stately pace) and two smaller ones which contained BEARS. Really. Bears with Christmas trees. I have video. You're only supposed to use the other door if you have a disability that requires it; I can only assume a fear of bears would count.
I got to surgery check-in by following the directions I had been given on the phone, but then they tried to send me upstairs to the other surgery center. Nope, they found me on the list after all. Then they sent me to walk through the parking garage to the ER for paperwork. Noticing my weirded-out look, the nurse assured me that they send lots of people to do that every day. I feel certain that my weirded-out look did not diminish upon this assurance. I went over there, they said they'd already printed it, they called, it was so, I walked back.
I got installed in a prep room and put on a gown and all. Because my period had waited until late so it could be around to make trouble, I also found out that hospitals have disposable panties to give you when needed. (Two different kinds, as it turned out later.) These are the exact equivalent of the little foot-covers they have in shoe stores: knit nylon tubes sewn minimally together to create something surprisingly functional.
Entertainment at this stage included Arthur and Odd Squad on TV, and an amazing magazine called Garden and Gun. Mostly gun, a little garden, and an entire article on the US's top bird dog, in a Martha Stewart sort of fancy-Southern magazine. Strange enough that it exists, but, more, as my surgeon wondered, "what is it doing here?"
Various nurses and anesthesiologists came by, we confirmed several times what was going to happen, and everyone was really nice. I was glad to confirm the correct operation, especially since I'd gotten a surprising form letter from my insurance company over the weekend saying my "donor surgery" was approved. Pretty sure we should not implant the endo into anyone else, actually! My surgeon showed up all cute in a down vest repaired with duct tape, and held my hand briefly, aww. Then I got sedated and wheeled to the operating room, I moved my butt to the new bed, and that's the last I remember.
I woke up in recovery a long time later, must have been seven hours. The doctor had guessed the surgery would take three hours or so, but I never got confirmation of exactly how long it was. I did see my evaluation paperwork from arriving at recovery, which said I could be roused if called but wasn't maintaining O2 sat without a mask, and I felt very very woozy for quite a while after I became conscious. They gave me anti-nausea meds and pain meds when I asked, and I just sat there being light-headed for a long time. According torushthatspeaks the hospital called them at one point and said they weren't sure I was going home that day, but then they called again five minutes later and said it was fine to come get me. :)
The test I passed for going home was probably seeming more aware, which I gradually did become, but also being able to urinate. Since I had a catheter from the operation, I didn't have anything to pee out, so they reversed the polarity of the flow and put saline IN so I'd have something there. Weird! Then they measured how much I was able to expel. It takes a long time to pee when you really don't want to tense your abdominal muscles.
Also, the three small toes on my right foot were half-asleep all of yesterday. The nurse thought it was probably from having my leg in an odd position for a long time during the operation.
gaudior came and got me, and bought me juice, because I was incredibly parched. The recovery staff wouldn't give me much to drink for fear of nausea, but I didn't have enough saliva to eat the crackers they gave me! Then I went to bed and cats slept on me until rushthatspeaks came over. Much drinking of juice and water, a little toast, and congee that was very soothing to my sad throat. (I'd had a breathing tube on top of my slight remaining cold from last week, so my throat was a little savaged.)
I was pretty greenish-looking when I came home, but I graduated to merely pale after my next nap, and was almost normal this morning, and actively pink this afternoon. Also I have saliva now, hurrah.rushthatspeaks did a very good job taking care of me, and I am bouncing back pretty well. I can bend over far enough to pet cats now, and I am almost done being shaky when I walk.
Yesterday my left ovary was really hurting. Based on what the surgeon said, I imagine it as looking like a sad pockmarked little asteroid in there -- it got cysts drained and cauterized and all sorts of violent procedures, and I might need to do a course of hormones to calm it down. That feels much better already, though. One of my incisions is pretty sore today, but again this is to be expected. Mostly I am doing great and staying on top of my Percocet and ibuprofen doses (four hours apart yes, six hours was too long!) and napping a whole lot. Today I'm eating normally and my guts are in working order, so it should just be a matter of time before I am better than ever.
It is worth noting that Green Cab/Yellow Cab of Somerville does not phone you when it arrives, or ring the doorbell, or do anything except sit there for five minutes and then go away. At least they come back promptly when you ring dispatch. Still, wtf.
The automatic revolving door at the hospital main entrance had two large compartments for humans to go in (at a slow and stately pace) and two smaller ones which contained BEARS. Really. Bears with Christmas trees. I have video. You're only supposed to use the other door if you have a disability that requires it; I can only assume a fear of bears would count.
I got to surgery check-in by following the directions I had been given on the phone, but then they tried to send me upstairs to the other surgery center. Nope, they found me on the list after all. Then they sent me to walk through the parking garage to the ER for paperwork. Noticing my weirded-out look, the nurse assured me that they send lots of people to do that every day. I feel certain that my weirded-out look did not diminish upon this assurance. I went over there, they said they'd already printed it, they called, it was so, I walked back.
I got installed in a prep room and put on a gown and all. Because my period had waited until late so it could be around to make trouble, I also found out that hospitals have disposable panties to give you when needed. (Two different kinds, as it turned out later.) These are the exact equivalent of the little foot-covers they have in shoe stores: knit nylon tubes sewn minimally together to create something surprisingly functional.
Entertainment at this stage included Arthur and Odd Squad on TV, and an amazing magazine called Garden and Gun. Mostly gun, a little garden, and an entire article on the US's top bird dog, in a Martha Stewart sort of fancy-Southern magazine. Strange enough that it exists, but, more, as my surgeon wondered, "what is it doing here?"
Various nurses and anesthesiologists came by, we confirmed several times what was going to happen, and everyone was really nice. I was glad to confirm the correct operation, especially since I'd gotten a surprising form letter from my insurance company over the weekend saying my "donor surgery" was approved. Pretty sure we should not implant the endo into anyone else, actually! My surgeon showed up all cute in a down vest repaired with duct tape, and held my hand briefly, aww. Then I got sedated and wheeled to the operating room, I moved my butt to the new bed, and that's the last I remember.
I woke up in recovery a long time later, must have been seven hours. The doctor had guessed the surgery would take three hours or so, but I never got confirmation of exactly how long it was. I did see my evaluation paperwork from arriving at recovery, which said I could be roused if called but wasn't maintaining O2 sat without a mask, and I felt very very woozy for quite a while after I became conscious. They gave me anti-nausea meds and pain meds when I asked, and I just sat there being light-headed for a long time. According to
rushthatspeaks the hospital called them at one point and said they weren't sure I was going home that day, but then they called again five minutes later and said it was fine to come get me. :)The test I passed for going home was probably seeming more aware, which I gradually did become, but also being able to urinate. Since I had a catheter from the operation, I didn't have anything to pee out, so they reversed the polarity of the flow and put saline IN so I'd have something there. Weird! Then they measured how much I was able to expel. It takes a long time to pee when you really don't want to tense your abdominal muscles.
Also, the three small toes on my right foot were half-asleep all of yesterday. The nurse thought it was probably from having my leg in an odd position for a long time during the operation.
gaudior came and got me, and bought me juice, because I was incredibly parched. The recovery staff wouldn't give me much to drink for fear of nausea, but I didn't have enough saliva to eat the crackers they gave me! Then I went to bed and cats slept on me until rushthatspeaks came over. Much drinking of juice and water, a little toast, and congee that was very soothing to my sad throat. (I'd had a breathing tube on top of my slight remaining cold from last week, so my throat was a little savaged.)I was pretty greenish-looking when I came home, but I graduated to merely pale after my next nap, and was almost normal this morning, and actively pink this afternoon. Also I have saliva now, hurrah.
rushthatspeaks did a very good job taking care of me, and I am bouncing back pretty well. I can bend over far enough to pet cats now, and I am almost done being shaky when I walk. Yesterday my left ovary was really hurting. Based on what the surgeon said, I imagine it as looking like a sad pockmarked little asteroid in there -- it got cysts drained and cauterized and all sorts of violent procedures, and I might need to do a course of hormones to calm it down. That feels much better already, though. One of my incisions is pretty sore today, but again this is to be expected. Mostly I am doing great and staying on top of my Percocet and ibuprofen doses (four hours apart yes, six hours was too long!) and napping a whole lot. Today I'm eating normally and my guts are in working order, so it should just be a matter of time before I am better than ever.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-07 03:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-01-07 04:09 pm (UTC)IT SURE DOES!!
I'm glad everything went so well - abdominal surgery now sort of makes me cover my eyes w/my hands and only peek out between fingers, which is why I haven't been commenting >_
no subject
Date: 2015-01-07 04:21 pm (UTC)Continuing to think good thoughts your way for continued smoothness. Consensus among my hysterectomized friends seems to be that once the Spartan Fox (term my wife uses for some problematic uteri) is gone, it's amazing how much time and energy is available.
no subject
Date: 2015-01-08 04:00 am (UTC)