The days after my operation were very uneventful in the hospital, but there are maybe some things worth mentioning regarding the start of the recovery period.
Had done some research before the whole event and was prepared for the stomach cramps, the gastric dumping effect, the pains in general. I think i got myself into a state of accepting the worst case scenario, maybe it was a psychological defense i had built for my own acceptance of whatever happens after, i don't know.
The day of my operation, whilst back in my room, the only real "inconvenience" i really had was the tube which was inserted to flow my urine into a container so i wouldn't have to actually go to the bathroom or move and squiggle to use a bed pan. If you are wondering where it was inserted..i can only confirm a steady yes! Apart from that there was not much of other inconveniences to talk about, just the usual stuff i suppose when you are in a hospital, the tubes for the drips, the multiple injections of morphine (but hey, i will take that above any other pain any day!), the blood tests, had to wear an extra oxygen supply with the little tubies in the nose. I don't. Know, i guess it all has to do with the expectation levels. All that was part of my expectations, so it did not bother the hell out of me, like for instance it did for "The ugly naked man" net to me. (see my previous posts).
I am now going to expressly convey my apologies to him, should he ever come to read this, because caling him Mr. Grumpy and the ugly naked man was not nice of me. During the days i spent with him on the room, i very slowly got to know him a bit more. His real name for example was Mr. Bachman, not that he told me, i heard his nurses calling him that. He would do no more than tell me the casual good morning, hello or good night, but inly if i spoke to him first. But this man was suffering, i learnt over the days.
You see, when i went in last year, i had this young fellow as my room mate and he was gone on day two of me being in the room. I had expected Mr. Bachman to leave me the same way i suppose. Instead, he stayed very calmly in his bed, minding his own business. His drips machine would alarm because he would make a bad move and then a nurse would come to reset it. Then it would happen again, and again, and then i noticed he wouldn't care anymore, he would just let the machine keep ringing the annoying alarm tone and he would not call the nurses again. So i started calling the nurses for him, okay, and for me, cause the annoying beep was starting to irritate me too. But i started to think there was more to it than that. Then, unfortunately for him, he had a nurse come in on a morning, right there at peak nursing time, and that is when i hear him telling the nurses that "moral is low". Is said, unfortunately, because the nurse did not pick up his comment. She just said it's looking like a nice day out there and sun is coming.
His comment stuck in my head though. I had also noticed that he did not get many visitors, he was a bit of a loner. Then an older lady came to visit him, and i learned that she is a retired podiatrist, so at least a person with a medical background. I learned she was a neighbor offering to take care of his mail at home and other sundries for him. He made similar comments to her regarding being of low moral., but almost fell asleep talking to her, probably due to an injection he had gotten before. She then sneaked out of the bedroom and i saw the opportunity to talk to her. I told her about my observations and she thanked me, she said she would have a talk with the nurses.
Things changed for Mr. Bachman, that evening he got a visit of his specialist, same as mine, he gave him some pep talk and that seemed to help. The prof also offered him sleeping pills to get better night rest as Mr. Bachman said he found the nights took so long. The next night when i woke up from the nurses, i noticed he was huffing, puffing and turning in his bed, wrestling with his drips and mumbling. I took the initiative to remind him he could ask for the sleeping pills, i was really feeling sorry for him. He did not take me on to ask for them, but he did tell me a bit about himself at that point, how he had been in the room three days before i had arrived, that he had come in for a small operation and that he seems to be worse off that when he had come in. He told me about all the pills he had to take, more than ever in his life, all the injections he hated. I told him to hang in there and to make sure he gets a good night's rest as that is very important for his recovery. He had by the way also told me that he was seventy five years old, a very respectable age. One statement Mr. Bachman made stuck with me and that was that he came in healthy into the hospital and look at him now. Not long after our little chat he dozed off and slept for the rest of the night. I think i was able to take some pressure off his self pitying mind with the little chat we had. The next morning he was visibly better after the hours of sleep he had enjoyed.
The point i am trying to make are the expectation level differences between him and myself. I came in expecting the worst and he came in expecting the easiest of things. Of course i can not compare my convalescence period with that of a considerable older man, but i do believe now that the mind plays a very big part in the healing process of the body.
I cannot write this blog without mentioning Michel, my best friend to be. You should have seen the elation on my wife's face when she discovered that Michel, and that's without the double LLe, was to be the nursing assistant assigned to my room for most of my stay. Michel would be the one taking care of my personal hygiene, would make up my bed, do my weigh ins and take care of sundry other needs i may have during my stay. For those who may not realize, in French, Michel, without the double LLe, is a first name for a guy, not a woman! Yes, hence the elation clearly visible on my wide's face when she found out. How would i describe Michel? Let's just say he seems very, very Happy! He is an older fellow, a head smaller than me, greying and balding, actually would have been a great companion for Mr. Bachman as i think that Michel would not stand for any sh!t that Mr. Bachman would come up with, lol. I heard some of the other nurses say "oh, well if it's Michel that wanted it that way, then we better do it that way!", which showed me some of his character and probably also his seniority in the organization.
So who am i to refuse when Michel asks me if i want him to wash my back? Like i would dare to refuse Michel? He had me sit on the edge of the bed, unbuttoned my shirt from the back and gave me gentle but firm enough rinsing of my back, my arms, under my arms, but i do think he should carry a little graph explaining where back ends and buttocks start in the average male!
Oh, and i have not told you yet about the latest fashion for patients in hospitals, the stockings! So somebody had this great idea that to avoid getting blood clots in the legs, everybody who is spending time in the hospital bed should wear long nylon stockings. It avoids the legs from swelling. All good and well, but there are three main problems with these stockings:
1. No way you are putting on those stocking by yourself. I will use the excuse of my stomach operation, but hat off to the ladies who wear long stockings every day!.
2. the stockings are long, no ankle thing or knee things, it's a the whole way thing!
3. So I needed the nurse or assistant nurse to help me. The procedure is that i lie on my back, lift up my foot and point my toes. Then the nurse puts on the foot of the stocking, holds hands on both sides of my leg and in one shrug pulls the stocking all the way up to my buttocks.
Now, take item two, and referring to item three, then mix in the Michel effect...okay? I think you are starting to get the picture now! And you can stop smirking too! Luckily i had underwear on by then!
Keep tuned... :-)
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
I made it!
"Ca vas?"
A guy is staring into my face.
It seems like my operation is over and done with! I am awake! I made it!
I have absolutely no clue what was done to me, how it went, how long it took and even exactly where i was. Somehow though, i had enough sense already to realize that i am in the recovery room.
Way too close for comfort, that male nurse's head is hanging over mine to see if i am doing alright. I mean, he is cleanly shaven and such, but still. He looked a bit like from a French B-class movie, the kind of sucker who will have a hard time during the whole movie, yuh know? He has a friendly look, the nice guy, slightly rounded cheeks, receding hairline at young age type?
Anyhow, i decided to ask two pieces of information which were missing in my head, how did the operation go and what time is it? He smiled and i thought, go on then, tell me? He said that all went well, no complications and it was now 1.30 PM. Wow, i thought, that was longer than expected, well, slightly longer at least. He did say though that all went well. He must have seen the enquiring face expression i had, so he continued explaining me that they used robots, remember? I said i did remember. He continued explaining that it can take up to two hours just to get the robots in the correct positions and an hour just to get the robots back out and close up the holes. The rest is the actual working time to carry out the surgery.
With my cloudy head i did some calculations and concluded that the total timing wasn't that bad after all (mind you, if my head weren't cloudy, i think my calculation results would probably have been the same, lol, not exactly my specialty to do simple calculations).
In the meantime he started to make notes at the foot end of my bed, i assume to make note that i look like a sucker from a b-class movie who thinks that i am A-Ok but in fact the worst is still to come, the stinging pains from the operation, the unwillingness to move any part of the body to avoid further pains.
But curiously, i was not feeling any pain at all, nothing. Decided to move limbs, even the waist a little bit and i didn't feel anything. This was great!
Ha! Ok, 2.15 PM suddenly, guess i dozed off? Still in recuperation room. Am i really awake or am i dreaming? My male nurse is nowhere to be found, instead i have another gentleman making notes at by bed. He really looks like George Costanza from the Seinfeld show, and not only in looks, but also in behavior.
Fun part about just lying there is just to watch everything that is going on. George is playing around with the female nurses. I believe George is probably a higher level nurse than his female counter parts, cause all the ladies seems to "adore" him,they laugh at his jokes, one of them even almost rubs up against him. My bet is that he decides the shifts, who works when! Has to be, because he lacks any other typical attraction to women.
He asks me if i am Ok, if nod yes, but i make him clear that i am feeling kind of thirsty. Now, i fully realized that i would not get anything to drink, but i was hoping for something to wet my lips. He kindly offered me some pineapple ice cubes to suck on. I was rather hoping for a wet towel, or one of those mini sprays with just water to wet the lips. I kindly reused the pineapple ice cubes as my brain said not to swallow anything in this operated stomach of mine. I didn't know if my prof would have appreciated me to melt those sweet things into my stomach at that point, anyhow, decided to wait until i am in the room then.
3PM, hey, had another snooze there it seems like. Hmmm, where's my brother? I recall telling him he could come and check me in the recovery room once i was out, but didn't see him. I was quite confident that if he could have, he would have, so they probably didn't let him in. I was just hoping he got the news about me being Ok.
I don't know how big the whole recovery area is, i estimated about 30 beds big. It had a central office, almost like a fish tank, but with high furniture in the middle, so i could not really see through the office to the other side, but i assumed the other side had as many beds as on this side, approximately. That central office looked like the nerve centre where all the technology, hooked up to patients, came together, a bit Star Trek like. Mind you, have a look at this little movie we found online, it is a graphical explanation of what the operation I went through looks like, what the prof has done to me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4vREUUv9Lw
Now, isn't that beginning to like Star trek as well? Only one step missing, it's the small handheld machine the docs in Star Trek use that makes a buzzing sound and which they repeatedly hover over the patient's body in order to diagnose and sometimes even heal the patient. I am convinced we are not more than a decade away from that now, lol.
Anyhow,the recovery room didn't look too busy today, i could only confirm 3, maybe 4 beds being occupied, one being mine of course. So the staff had some time to chat, a shift change was taking place. Plenty nurses coming to talk to George Costanza, the suspected shift manager, some with happy faces, some with more worried faces possibly trying to convince Costanza to switch their shifts. I thought, now, imagine being a nurse and wanted a shift change because your old aunt is sick at home...it would suck if your supervisor then tells you to just bring in the sickly aunt into hospital to get checked out, no? So that's one less excuse you can use as a nurse. And by the way, am sure that Costanza would not be the easiest to be convinced.
Ah, three new guys walking around, two of them looking like docs and one intern. How can you tell the difference? The walk, the dress code.... The intern guy had all the bells and whistles on, stethoscope around the neck, badges all over the place including name tag, looking at patient's records, including mine at the foot end. I thought i would still check and asked him if i could get something to wet my lips. He told me he would check with my nurse, which would be Costanza at that point. Check, intern !!! Kept following him with my eyes, he was just walking around, more lost at what to do, he never talked to anybody re my dry lips, oh well.
The two other new guys were more looking like doctors, one had a mouth protection on, like as what they have when they are in the operating room, so there is why i made the assumption. Both men were now in a discussion, about five meters from my bed. I thought they were discussion the last operation they did, with all the complications involved, but nothing was less true. One was coaching the other on how to prepare to run a marathon. Two nurses joined the discussion a while later. They were talking so much that another snooze was out for me, lol, but i didn't mind, i was just counting the minutes till i would be rolled back to my room.
3.45 PM , i'm outta here! I get clearance for take-off, i can be rolled back to my room upstairs. They disconnect all that was still connected to me, and that was way more than i realized, the driver was called and he started maneuvering my bed to head for the corridor, out i went! Rolling through the corridors we reached the familiar elevators, back to level 9, the penthouse suite...hahaha
Reached upstairs, back into MY corridor, rolling towards MY room. Felt like the closest thing to home, to comfort. And who is sticking his head around the corner from by the waiting area? My brother! So nice to see him, he is smiling too as the driver takes a perfect swing to turn my bed back into my room. And who else do i get to greet? Mr. Grumpy, my neighbor in the room. Coming to think of it, after seeing "Costanza" from Seinfeld downstairs in the recovery room, Mr grumpy, my neighbor really fits in perfectly with the description of "the ugly naked guy" from the series Friends. Oh, i am terrible! I wonder what my neighbor baptized me as? Nothing probably, he doesn't seem like the most humorous guy, his loss!
Well, peeps, operation is done, am back in my room, recovery can start. I hope that it runs as smooth as the operation itself, i am sure it will. I suspect my prof has done a terrific job, we will wait and see. From readings before i had already learned that i would not get anything to eat nor drink for a whole probable 36 hours, only drips into my veins, painkillers, and hopefully the mouth spray to wet my lips.
I am thankful to be back in MY room, happy to have my brother there and longing to inform my wife who is still flying across the ocean that all went well, that i made it!
A guy is staring into my face.
It seems like my operation is over and done with! I am awake! I made it!
I have absolutely no clue what was done to me, how it went, how long it took and even exactly where i was. Somehow though, i had enough sense already to realize that i am in the recovery room.
Way too close for comfort, that male nurse's head is hanging over mine to see if i am doing alright. I mean, he is cleanly shaven and such, but still. He looked a bit like from a French B-class movie, the kind of sucker who will have a hard time during the whole movie, yuh know? He has a friendly look, the nice guy, slightly rounded cheeks, receding hairline at young age type?
Anyhow, i decided to ask two pieces of information which were missing in my head, how did the operation go and what time is it? He smiled and i thought, go on then, tell me? He said that all went well, no complications and it was now 1.30 PM. Wow, i thought, that was longer than expected, well, slightly longer at least. He did say though that all went well. He must have seen the enquiring face expression i had, so he continued explaining me that they used robots, remember? I said i did remember. He continued explaining that it can take up to two hours just to get the robots in the correct positions and an hour just to get the robots back out and close up the holes. The rest is the actual working time to carry out the surgery.
With my cloudy head i did some calculations and concluded that the total timing wasn't that bad after all (mind you, if my head weren't cloudy, i think my calculation results would probably have been the same, lol, not exactly my specialty to do simple calculations).
In the meantime he started to make notes at the foot end of my bed, i assume to make note that i look like a sucker from a b-class movie who thinks that i am A-Ok but in fact the worst is still to come, the stinging pains from the operation, the unwillingness to move any part of the body to avoid further pains.
But curiously, i was not feeling any pain at all, nothing. Decided to move limbs, even the waist a little bit and i didn't feel anything. This was great!
Ha! Ok, 2.15 PM suddenly, guess i dozed off? Still in recuperation room. Am i really awake or am i dreaming? My male nurse is nowhere to be found, instead i have another gentleman making notes at by bed. He really looks like George Costanza from the Seinfeld show, and not only in looks, but also in behavior.
Fun part about just lying there is just to watch everything that is going on. George is playing around with the female nurses. I believe George is probably a higher level nurse than his female counter parts, cause all the ladies seems to "adore" him,they laugh at his jokes, one of them even almost rubs up against him. My bet is that he decides the shifts, who works when! Has to be, because he lacks any other typical attraction to women.
He asks me if i am Ok, if nod yes, but i make him clear that i am feeling kind of thirsty. Now, i fully realized that i would not get anything to drink, but i was hoping for something to wet my lips. He kindly offered me some pineapple ice cubes to suck on. I was rather hoping for a wet towel, or one of those mini sprays with just water to wet the lips. I kindly reused the pineapple ice cubes as my brain said not to swallow anything in this operated stomach of mine. I didn't know if my prof would have appreciated me to melt those sweet things into my stomach at that point, anyhow, decided to wait until i am in the room then.
3PM, hey, had another snooze there it seems like. Hmmm, where's my brother? I recall telling him he could come and check me in the recovery room once i was out, but didn't see him. I was quite confident that if he could have, he would have, so they probably didn't let him in. I was just hoping he got the news about me being Ok.
I don't know how big the whole recovery area is, i estimated about 30 beds big. It had a central office, almost like a fish tank, but with high furniture in the middle, so i could not really see through the office to the other side, but i assumed the other side had as many beds as on this side, approximately. That central office looked like the nerve centre where all the technology, hooked up to patients, came together, a bit Star Trek like. Mind you, have a look at this little movie we found online, it is a graphical explanation of what the operation I went through looks like, what the prof has done to me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4vREUUv9Lw
Now, isn't that beginning to like Star trek as well? Only one step missing, it's the small handheld machine the docs in Star Trek use that makes a buzzing sound and which they repeatedly hover over the patient's body in order to diagnose and sometimes even heal the patient. I am convinced we are not more than a decade away from that now, lol.
Anyhow,the recovery room didn't look too busy today, i could only confirm 3, maybe 4 beds being occupied, one being mine of course. So the staff had some time to chat, a shift change was taking place. Plenty nurses coming to talk to George Costanza, the suspected shift manager, some with happy faces, some with more worried faces possibly trying to convince Costanza to switch their shifts. I thought, now, imagine being a nurse and wanted a shift change because your old aunt is sick at home...it would suck if your supervisor then tells you to just bring in the sickly aunt into hospital to get checked out, no? So that's one less excuse you can use as a nurse. And by the way, am sure that Costanza would not be the easiest to be convinced.
Ah, three new guys walking around, two of them looking like docs and one intern. How can you tell the difference? The walk, the dress code.... The intern guy had all the bells and whistles on, stethoscope around the neck, badges all over the place including name tag, looking at patient's records, including mine at the foot end. I thought i would still check and asked him if i could get something to wet my lips. He told me he would check with my nurse, which would be Costanza at that point. Check, intern !!! Kept following him with my eyes, he was just walking around, more lost at what to do, he never talked to anybody re my dry lips, oh well.
The two other new guys were more looking like doctors, one had a mouth protection on, like as what they have when they are in the operating room, so there is why i made the assumption. Both men were now in a discussion, about five meters from my bed. I thought they were discussion the last operation they did, with all the complications involved, but nothing was less true. One was coaching the other on how to prepare to run a marathon. Two nurses joined the discussion a while later. They were talking so much that another snooze was out for me, lol, but i didn't mind, i was just counting the minutes till i would be rolled back to my room.
3.45 PM , i'm outta here! I get clearance for take-off, i can be rolled back to my room upstairs. They disconnect all that was still connected to me, and that was way more than i realized, the driver was called and he started maneuvering my bed to head for the corridor, out i went! Rolling through the corridors we reached the familiar elevators, back to level 9, the penthouse suite...hahaha
Reached upstairs, back into MY corridor, rolling towards MY room. Felt like the closest thing to home, to comfort. And who is sticking his head around the corner from by the waiting area? My brother! So nice to see him, he is smiling too as the driver takes a perfect swing to turn my bed back into my room. And who else do i get to greet? Mr. Grumpy, my neighbor in the room. Coming to think of it, after seeing "Costanza" from Seinfeld downstairs in the recovery room, Mr grumpy, my neighbor really fits in perfectly with the description of "the ugly naked guy" from the series Friends. Oh, i am terrible! I wonder what my neighbor baptized me as? Nothing probably, he doesn't seem like the most humorous guy, his loss!
Well, peeps, operation is done, am back in my room, recovery can start. I hope that it runs as smooth as the operation itself, i am sure it will. I suspect my prof has done a terrific job, we will wait and see. From readings before i had already learned that i would not get anything to eat nor drink for a whole probable 36 hours, only drips into my veins, painkillers, and hopefully the mouth spray to wet my lips.
I am thankful to be back in MY room, happy to have my brother there and longing to inform my wife who is still flying across the ocean that all went well, that i made it!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Good night!
It is THE morning, five o'clock sharp, was awoken by the nurses coming into the room. It is a bit of a strange feeling, i wish i could have said i had been waiting for this operation for the last six orvseven years and it is finally the time to get it done. Reality is of course that i have wished to lose a lot of weight to make my life easier, i have wished that for many, many years. This operation, though, came as a bit of a surprise, not planned, a final result of a number of improbable circumstances, by chance meetings and other happenings, it was an opportunity delivered on a silver platter. I took the chance.
Got my instructions to go and take my shower, use a special anti bacterial soap for hair and body, not to use any other products, no deodorant, no perfumes. Was happy for the surgeon and his team that it wasn't an eight hour operation, can u imagine..eight hours without deodorant?
I don't know if this is the place or the time to make this observation, but uhm, isn't every soap supposed to be anti-bacterial? I mean, like the great war monger said, if you're not with me, you're against me.... So if the soap isn't anti-bacterial, then is it pro-bacterial? Personally i think it is just a brilliant marketing gimmick. One brand of soap suddenly brings out a world astonishing anti-bacterial soap, and all the other brands had to follow, else the people wouldn't want to buy theirs again.
But i recall my previous operation turning out pretty good, and i had used the hospital's anti-bacterial soap, so why change a winning horse, eh? Or soap in this case! Shower done, teeth brushed, hospital shirt on. Gone back onto my freshly made up bed. Now waiting for my driver to take my bed and me to the operating room. Dum diddi dum dum... 5 minutes to seven.... And yes, they are on time, 7 o'clock and there he is, my driver.
I really do not know how to describe my state of mind at that point, because i was soooo relaxed. A reasonable person should at least have been a little bit nervous, but i wasn't, so i guess i was unreasonable? I don't know why, but i was not worried, i was not scared, and its not because i am a person with heroic ambitions or anything such, because i knew very well what they were about to do with me, how they were going to cut me, the possible problems i could have afterwards etc... I am starting to think that doing all the research before on this whole procedure, talking to the unbelievable cool people on Facebook, Twitter and email, people who i never met before but who were so very fantastic to share their experiences with me, that really, really helped me. Also read about others who had had problems, had an understanding of what the worst scenarios could be as well after the procedure. Then there was my wife who was very supportive, i had a team at home, i had my families in both europe and the caribbean who were supporting my decision. There was the great surgeon i happened to meet, the great nursing team i had experienced last year, i was safe! I felt safe! That all contributed to my relaxed state.
And off we went, through the corridors of the hotel, sorry, no, hospital! People on the side, visitors from other patients looking you into your face with a pity look on their own, not knowing if i am awake, if i have already been operated on or not. Into the elevator, far away now from "my" room, away from everything that could possibly comfort me, and lets be blunt, on the way to the people who are literally going to have my life in their hands.
Elevators stops, out we roll, i can see signs of "Intensive Care" flashing above my head as we roll on, and suddenly i see three doors and i am thinking "And what's behind door number one?" , yep, that's how relaxed i was. Turned out i got door number two, guys opened it as if they had cameras to see us coming, it was like a beehive inside there. Five guys prepping me in the anesthetics room. Hey, i was supposed to have my good looking anesthetics girl there who interviewed me weeks ago, that wasn't fair! Had to do it with the five guys now, okay, so i really didn't have to do anything, they were the ones who had to "do" it. Only thing i had to do was to move from my comfy bed onto the operating table. One of the guys introduced the team to me, ok, but forgive me for not remembering their names. Second guy strapped my legs to the bed "for during the operation". I guess they have had patients who woke up them during the operation and tried to walk off? He told me that it sometimes happens that people dream and try to act it out. He asked me if i have chosen my dream, i asked if i could see the menu of dreams then, he chuckled, saying they're good, but not that good yet. Maybe one day i told him in French. Another guy suddenly slid a plank like extension from under the bed and asked me to rest my arm on it so he could start prepping me. Then the next guy extended another part from the other side for my second arm and told me he would just strap it down for later as he will be going into my artery, but after i am asleep. Sure go ahead, strap me down, i tell you, i think a regular person would have freaked by then. but i was cool, i was soooo relaxed. I have never smoked anything but a cigarette in my life, but thinking back, i think now what it feels like to smoke heavier stuff, because i was sooo relaxed.
Then the mask went over my mouth, and i thought, bye bye world, Hasta la Vista! Turned out to be just oxygen, they said it was to oxygenate my body before the operation. One of the guys had apparently slipped out of the room and just came back in with the announcement that he was called away to another operation room. It was the guy who introduced me to the rest of the guys, ok, so still four guys left then i thought, should be enough! Not like i could object or complain, i had the mask over my mouth. Then a question came, did the surgeon sign me? What? Sign me? Oooh, yes, i recall that from last year. Apparently they had actually had two people with same name and similar birth date in the hospital for different operations by different doctors and yes, they got inadvertently switched. Since then the surgical team has to sign your body with a felt tip pen so the team would recognize it as being their patient before they operate. It was a standard procedure now. After a while one of the surgical team came in, took my mask off, asked me who i was, who my prof was, what my birthdate was and what operation i came in for. He then signed my body. Hey, when it comes to cutting my body i am very appreciative of all the procedures being followed, no complaints from me!
So still there, strapped in by feet and arms, naked under a sheet, four guys in the same room, a gas mask over my mouth and nose. I suddenly hear one of the guys saying in French... Ok, let's go with this! I was then instructed to start breathing deeply, i did. I thought that one of my veins was prepped for a chemical to put me to sleep, but i guess it is going to be gas today? Breath deeply sir! I did...but nothing happened, took another deep breath, I exhaled, and another one, but nothing ally happened, i was really doing my best! Then the door opened of the room, i expected the surgical team to come in, but it looked like only one person. Keep breathing deeply! I did! Hey, it looks like the female cute anestisiologiosisttttt....itsist....ist...finalllllleeee arhiveeddd... I was gone! Good night! Merry dreams!
Got my instructions to go and take my shower, use a special anti bacterial soap for hair and body, not to use any other products, no deodorant, no perfumes. Was happy for the surgeon and his team that it wasn't an eight hour operation, can u imagine..eight hours without deodorant?
I don't know if this is the place or the time to make this observation, but uhm, isn't every soap supposed to be anti-bacterial? I mean, like the great war monger said, if you're not with me, you're against me.... So if the soap isn't anti-bacterial, then is it pro-bacterial? Personally i think it is just a brilliant marketing gimmick. One brand of soap suddenly brings out a world astonishing anti-bacterial soap, and all the other brands had to follow, else the people wouldn't want to buy theirs again.
But i recall my previous operation turning out pretty good, and i had used the hospital's anti-bacterial soap, so why change a winning horse, eh? Or soap in this case! Shower done, teeth brushed, hospital shirt on. Gone back onto my freshly made up bed. Now waiting for my driver to take my bed and me to the operating room. Dum diddi dum dum... 5 minutes to seven.... And yes, they are on time, 7 o'clock and there he is, my driver.
I really do not know how to describe my state of mind at that point, because i was soooo relaxed. A reasonable person should at least have been a little bit nervous, but i wasn't, so i guess i was unreasonable? I don't know why, but i was not worried, i was not scared, and its not because i am a person with heroic ambitions or anything such, because i knew very well what they were about to do with me, how they were going to cut me, the possible problems i could have afterwards etc... I am starting to think that doing all the research before on this whole procedure, talking to the unbelievable cool people on Facebook, Twitter and email, people who i never met before but who were so very fantastic to share their experiences with me, that really, really helped me. Also read about others who had had problems, had an understanding of what the worst scenarios could be as well after the procedure. Then there was my wife who was very supportive, i had a team at home, i had my families in both europe and the caribbean who were supporting my decision. There was the great surgeon i happened to meet, the great nursing team i had experienced last year, i was safe! I felt safe! That all contributed to my relaxed state.
And off we went, through the corridors of the hotel, sorry, no, hospital! People on the side, visitors from other patients looking you into your face with a pity look on their own, not knowing if i am awake, if i have already been operated on or not. Into the elevator, far away now from "my" room, away from everything that could possibly comfort me, and lets be blunt, on the way to the people who are literally going to have my life in their hands.
Elevators stops, out we roll, i can see signs of "Intensive Care" flashing above my head as we roll on, and suddenly i see three doors and i am thinking "And what's behind door number one?" , yep, that's how relaxed i was. Turned out i got door number two, guys opened it as if they had cameras to see us coming, it was like a beehive inside there. Five guys prepping me in the anesthetics room. Hey, i was supposed to have my good looking anesthetics girl there who interviewed me weeks ago, that wasn't fair! Had to do it with the five guys now, okay, so i really didn't have to do anything, they were the ones who had to "do" it. Only thing i had to do was to move from my comfy bed onto the operating table. One of the guys introduced the team to me, ok, but forgive me for not remembering their names. Second guy strapped my legs to the bed "for during the operation". I guess they have had patients who woke up them during the operation and tried to walk off? He told me that it sometimes happens that people dream and try to act it out. He asked me if i have chosen my dream, i asked if i could see the menu of dreams then, he chuckled, saying they're good, but not that good yet. Maybe one day i told him in French. Another guy suddenly slid a plank like extension from under the bed and asked me to rest my arm on it so he could start prepping me. Then the next guy extended another part from the other side for my second arm and told me he would just strap it down for later as he will be going into my artery, but after i am asleep. Sure go ahead, strap me down, i tell you, i think a regular person would have freaked by then. but i was cool, i was soooo relaxed. I have never smoked anything but a cigarette in my life, but thinking back, i think now what it feels like to smoke heavier stuff, because i was sooo relaxed.
Then the mask went over my mouth, and i thought, bye bye world, Hasta la Vista! Turned out to be just oxygen, they said it was to oxygenate my body before the operation. One of the guys had apparently slipped out of the room and just came back in with the announcement that he was called away to another operation room. It was the guy who introduced me to the rest of the guys, ok, so still four guys left then i thought, should be enough! Not like i could object or complain, i had the mask over my mouth. Then a question came, did the surgeon sign me? What? Sign me? Oooh, yes, i recall that from last year. Apparently they had actually had two people with same name and similar birth date in the hospital for different operations by different doctors and yes, they got inadvertently switched. Since then the surgical team has to sign your body with a felt tip pen so the team would recognize it as being their patient before they operate. It was a standard procedure now. After a while one of the surgical team came in, took my mask off, asked me who i was, who my prof was, what my birthdate was and what operation i came in for. He then signed my body. Hey, when it comes to cutting my body i am very appreciative of all the procedures being followed, no complaints from me!
So still there, strapped in by feet and arms, naked under a sheet, four guys in the same room, a gas mask over my mouth and nose. I suddenly hear one of the guys saying in French... Ok, let's go with this! I was then instructed to start breathing deeply, i did. I thought that one of my veins was prepped for a chemical to put me to sleep, but i guess it is going to be gas today? Breath deeply sir! I did...but nothing happened, took another deep breath, I exhaled, and another one, but nothing ally happened, i was really doing my best! Then the door opened of the room, i expected the surgical team to come in, but it looked like only one person. Keep breathing deeply! I did! Hey, it looks like the female cute anestisiologiosisttttt....itsist....ist...finalllllleeee arhiveeddd... I was gone! Good night! Merry dreams!
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