NL-0 - Day 0 - Surgery

Yikes! What was I thinking? I'm typing this two days later, this being the first time I can sit long enough to type.

Enough with today. Let's talk about Day 0 - Surgery.

I was feeling great pre-op, wanting to finally DO IT. I got to bed about 12:30, pretty much normal for me, figuring that I'd get what amounted to a nap before I had to wake at 4:30 to get to the hospital. I had read and re-read all the pre-op material which gives you your check-in time (5:45am), surgery time (7:45am) and instructions (nothing to eat or drink after midnight). So far so good. But how does the rest of the day look like? An hour for the procedure, which brings us to 9am max, a couple of hours of sleeping off the anesthesia, then home. I'd be home by noon, max. After all, a one-hour procedure is much like root canal, with better anesthesia.

OOPS! My bad!
It turned out a whole lot differently.
At check-in, I was focused on the objective - it is a GOOD THING, worth doing, you just have to get through the NOW. Jabber on about anything to stave off anxiety - getting anxious and raising my blood pressure won't do anybody any good. It's all a big unknown after the mask comes down, but I trust the doctor, right? And, I had Daddy out in the waiting room. He is a master. He will take care of me. In a fight between him and the surgeon, Daddy wins any day. No fear on my part, with Daddy on my side.

I wake up in recovery; they're not quite sure what to do with me, as I am outpatient - do I stay there or go to a room? It's up to a room for me. Thank goodness, because the rest of the day is a haze of chatting and abruptly falling asleep. Boom! in the middle of a sentence I'm out. I can barely speak, which is atypical for me, but this is because they had to intubate me for the anesthesia, which goes through the vocal folds, stretching them or something. It's taking a couple of days to get my voice back.

I was feeling hot and achy and sleepy and who know what. They gave me painkillers and anti-nausea medicine IV but no pain-pump. It was later on that I figured that the feverish-ness was more from dehydration than anything else. About 6PM someone brought a liquid dinner (apple juice, broth, jello, tea) which contradicted the ice-chips diet I expected for the day. Yea! Looked great! But, after taking two spoonfuls of the broth, I had the dry heaves, despite the anti-nausea meds. So ice-chips it was.

I remember a PA coming through to check out my regular meds, switching one out for a non-diuretic variation, then someone came through on rounds with the passel of geeky residents who really *were* clueless about what was going on, despite the fact that the hospital is actively marketing bariatric surgery so I can't be the first one they've seen.

Several times in the afternoon I get up to walk around - bathroom, of course, then walks around the ward. Nothing wrong with my legs! The drafty attire leaves something to be desired, however. Thank goodness my nurse, Rhonda, draped a sheet over my shoulders.

Finally, I got the OK to go home. My legs worked, my arms worked, but the torso connecting them was a mess. Any kind of twisting or reaching was agony, including reaching for toilet paper, or pulling down one side of my shirt. Nonetheless, I wanted to be home.

Why home? All my preparation was there - the protein powders, popsicles, juices and soups. My bed, with all the necessities around it - CPAP, phone, glasses, dog treats and, oh yes, the dog.
Daddy made sure I had everything I could possibly need, including all the narcotics the hospital provided. Patricia stayed overnight with me, ready to listen for the bike horn I had by my bed.
I settled into bed by 9PM after trying to find ways to get comfortable in bed. Mother, you were with me all day - everything I learned from you I applied today.

To be continued... I feel for Daddy