Surgery Virgin

I've never had surgery of any kind, been put under general anesthesia, or had any kind of procedure that required scalpels or IV drips...until today. I've been dreading today since I got my diagnosis, probably as much as I dread the day I have to shave my head.

I've been worried about the general anesthesia, not so much the going-under part as much as the rejoining-the-conscious-world part. My sister and brother have both had several surgeries, so I was able to talk to them about surgery and what to expect. My sister did a good job of explaining the details of what would happen, but she also cautioned that she and my brother both have terrible potty mouths when they come out of anesthesia. They've both cursed out doctors, nurses, family members, etc. Sometimes the thrash about, threaten to yank out IVs, and generally behave like asses for a few minutes when they come to. My mom confirmed this today, as we were walking into the hospital. She also said that my brother was so terribly behaved after one surgery that the anesthesiologist actually said to her, "Yeah, we're going to give him something to let him take another little nap. Then we'll try to wake him up again and see if his attitude's improved." Funny? Sadly, yes. Embarrassing? Terribly.

I was scheduled to be at the hospital for Pre-Op beginning at 10am. Mom and I worked on the crossword & Sudoku puzzles from the paper, I longed for coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, and we ran into Mom's best friend while waiting for the nurses to call me back for prep.

Mom's best friend is a colon cancer survivor and she happened to be at the hospital for a CT scan this morning. It was so good to see her, especially looking amazingly healthy and happy.

...meanwhile, it was approaching noon, and I was still sitting in the waiting room, getting more nervous by the minute.

They finally called me back for prep and it turned out that my nurse, Paula, is a patient of my surgeon and oncologist. She showed me what I thought was her scar from her port removal, but it turns out that she still has her port installed. It looked like a pencil-eraser sized blue bump. I don't know if I would have noticed it if she hadn't pointed it out to me. Mom said that her best friend's port wasn't entirely sub-dermal; there was a plastic bit on her skin where the port was installed. Paula took my vitals & medical history, got me changed into my skimpy tear-away hospital gown, started my IV with saline, and there we waited until after 1pm. I *finally* met the anesthesiologist, a nurse anesthetist in training, the CRNA, my surgeon (again), and then I finally got wheeled into the OR. I vaguely remember moving myself from my gurney to the OR table, and then it was lights out for me. 

The next thing I remember is hearing some of the recovery room techs talking about who would win the Georgia-Clemson game, and thinking about how I wanted to eat a whole basket of Cafe Strudel's duck fat fries with chive aioli, and how a ginger ale sounded amazingly refreshing. Suddenly, there was a sippy-cup of icy cold ginger ale in my hand and I was talking to 2 techs about tailgating vs watching at home vs watching at a bar, vis-a-vis the Gamecock football game this Thursday.

Next, I was wheeled to the more different recovery room, where a nice nurse gave me a cup of chicken noodle soup. Yes, it was Campbell's classic chicken noodle soup, but it tasted like manna from heaven after not eating for over 15 hours. I also shoved multiple saltine crackers in my face as fast as I could chew and swallow them. Hell, who am I kidding? I barely tasted anything. I was just happy to have something in my belly. 

The hospital finally released me, and Mom got my prescription for Percocet filled, got me a few groceries, and most importantly, got me a cheeseburger basket from Rush's. 

I'm sore, but it's muted due to the Percocet. I'm full of Rush's & ginger ale. And I'm surrounded by my fur babies.