Last Wednesday, I arrived at Goldring Surgery Center for a little "procedure". The procedure was to remove a lump (three or four maybe) in my right axilla - armpit in layman. It was a simple outpatient undertaking, simple, my doctor made me believe. He said I would be partially sedated and the thing would be over in an hour. I had nothing to worry about. I hadn't had anything to eat or drink from midnight and not lotion, perfume, deodorant, hair stuff or jewelry as instructed on my checklist sheet. I got there an hour early, checked in then we were sent into the Recovery room, which was more like a waiting room for family and kids - T.V., kid's toys, armchairs. I waited there then a nurse came in with more paperwork. More release forms: I allow them to have an extra guy in the room if applicable, I allow a camera in my armpit and allow them to take pictures for a later discussion with the doctor, do not have a history of the usual illnesses or adverse reactions to general anesthesia. I had to write on my arms the "NO" side (left armpit) and the "YES" side (right armpit), complete with an arrow to indicate where they were supposed to cut me. I stripped down to the old hospital gown with the ties in the back, which one can never tie anyway so one has to walk around with their ass hanging out. Got on the bed, temperature taken, blood pressure taken, then one nurse tried to proceed with threading the IV needle in my hand. Of course she was unsuccessful and ended up poking around my hand with the needle. Hey, I was dehydrated, I was told not to drink anything past midnight and now, they try to make excuses for my "rolling" veins. Anesthesiologist plus another guy and the doctor all come out to talk to me, then an OR nurse comes to wheel me into the operating room while mapping out what is about to happen ("the operating room tends to be colder, the anesthesiologist will put in an ivy, gas mask, etc). I move to a narrower bed, more like table. She piles a warm blanket and there are about 7 people in the room. I look above and there are the menacing operating room lights that we've all seen too many times in movies after horrific accidents and malicious operations involving removing body parts or inserting foriegn objects into the body without your knowledge because, well, you're out like a light.
So. Five people set to work on me. One piles another warmed blanket. Another pulls the gown of my "YES" shoulder and wipes it down. Another inserts the IV, yet another straps me down - legs, torso, both arms, spread eagle, then the last guy puts the gas mask over my face. It smells awful. Rubber, plastic and I begin to feel suffocated while pin pricks are felt on my left hand. The last thing I hear amidst all this is the doctor talking to the anesthes. about where the other was from. Then I'm out. Helpless. Utterly imobile and unable to move or do anything. Whether they removed my lumps or my spleen, I wouldn't have known. I had been calm until the last few minutes when I had begun to shake uncontrollably as I saw them strapping me down, and it wasn't from the cold.
I dream about extremely sticky bubble gum that I'm trying to chew; the more I chew the more sticky it becomes, adhereing to the roof of my mouth, to my lips to my entire mouth. The next moment, I'm coming round and I can't tell where I am. It's still dark but I hear the nurse "They called her husband already. He's still changing the baby." My body's heavy, I'm groggy, sleepy, barely awake. Just voices talking loudly to each other. Then suddenly I see Dino next to me with Dylan. He's trying to talk to me but I can't put together a coherent sentence, or I just can't seem to understand what he's asking me. I say "I'm having a hard time waking up", nurse says, "Take deep breaths, that'll help you wake up faster". I feel nothing but the heaviness of my body. I think they're trying to explain a few things to Dino about the wound, not to take a shower for two days, taking the bandage off, things like that, but I just want to go back to sleep. After a few moments, I'm finally lucid enough and I'm helped to the changing room. Dino changes me like I'm a kid because I can barely lift my extremeties. Then I'm finally wheeled out to the car. And here I was thinking, it's just going to be some little out patient thing, while the next day I feel like I'm floating at work, still high on the sleeping gas. There isn't too much pain, but the simple little procedure sure as hell felt like one big operation.
5:56 PM | |
