OK, it's been a long week for me, so I haven't gotten on here to tell my surgery story. But here we go. I went into the hospital on Monday morning, the 6th of April. I drove over there, and J, K, & L were with me. Needless to say, it's a completely different experience when you're the one having surgery. (See previous posts on K & L's surgery days).
We got there about half an hour early. But they took me back to pre-op within a few minutes anyway. Back in pre-op, they explain what's going to happen, and they hand you a johnny and a couple of bags for your clothes. You have to get completely undressed, put on the johnny, and put all your stuff, including shoes, in the bags. And then you wait for someone to come back and check on you. A nurse will come in, and put in an IV. I used to have IV terror, because of being hospitalized as a small child. But I'm mostly over it now. It's no worse than a regular needle, at least. Anyway, you get your IV tap, hopefully without too much bruising and "oops." lol. It helps if you know where the best place to get a vein on you is. I got mine in the back of my right hand.
Then you talk to various people. An anesthesia doctor, some nurses, at least one of the PAs (I talked to LeBron), and Dr. Lautz. They're just asking you basic questions about yourself to be sure they have everything right in your records. And Dr. Latuz signs your stomach to make sure his patients go to the right place. You get a hospital ID bracelet, and a separate bracelet for any allergies you have. At some point during this, they bring your family back to sit with you. The next thing that happens is that somebody injects something into your IV, and you're saying goodbye and rolling away.
After that, I have fragmented memories for a while. lol. Rolling a short way down the hall before everything got fuzzy. Blue lights that both K & L said were pretty. Someone saying something about being moved on a air mattress thing (apparently there's a blowup thing underneath you that they inflate, slide you to the operating table, and then deflate), and then being in an actual room with my daughter telling me that they were going to get me my own room as soon as possible, and they would try not to put anyone in with me before I moved. I don't remember the recovery room at all. I maybe remember rolling down another hall in between recovery and my first room. Apparently telling them in the paperwork that I have panic attacks, anxiety and social phobia was not enough to get me my own room. They were planning on putting me in with a roommate. My son spoke up, and the girls said I needed my own room. They acted like they had no idea, and that I should have written something else on the paperwork. And then they told them that I needed to write all the things I'd already written on the forms. Um. Anyway, I guess they grumbled, but eventually I got my own room. Moral of the story: if you think you need your own room, just write it in huge letters on your intake form. "PANIC DISORDER: NEED OWN ROOM!!" Something like that. Believe me, if you have any social issues, you need your own room. I shared a room in maternity when I had my daughter, and that was fine. Everyone is happy and healthy in maternity. They put the people whose delivery didn't go well somewhere else. Plus my (then) husband was there most of the time. Surgical ward? Different.
So yeah, I remember going in and out of consciousness, and waking up seeing J, K, & L there in the room. That was nice. Eventually they figured they should leave. So they did and I went back to sleep. And that was most of my surgery day. Next post, I'll talk about the days afterward in the hospital.