It has been a crazy day. I know that Becky has kept everyone pretty well informed as events happened, but starting at 5am, it has been a constant stream of doctors and nurses in and out of this room. There have probably been more than 50 different individual who came into my room today. Most of them wanted to look at my butt. I should have just walked around without pants today.
I will skip to surgery so that this post is not too long and I can go to bed early. Down in surgery, there were a number of people who "were glad to meet" me. I am not sure what this is about. Did they know my case history and it has been a big topic of discussion? Do they know something personal about me that they like? Is this just something that they say to all surgery patients to help calm them? I have no idea. Anyway, before surgery there was a lot of friendly chatting and people sitting around. I think that if I had a deck of cards on me, I could have gotten a game going. They did all the official paperwork too, of course, but it seemed very social.
The anesthesiologist came by and explained that they were going to put me completely under with some sort of gas, and after I was out, that they would have to put a tube down my throat so that I could breath while I was under. I said that would be fine - whatever is needed, signed his form. As they were getting me ready to be rolled into the operating room, one of the younger guys opened his lab coat and from the inside pocket, pulled out a couple of syringes, and asked if I wanted anything, you know, to help you relax. It just felt so much like a illegal drug transaction that I found it very funny. I suppose most people are pretty stressed going into surgery, but I was actually quite relaxed, so I said that I was all set.
They gave me some pure oxygen and then changed over the gas to something else. I complained that it was hard to breath but my voice was really muffled by the mask and the anesthesiologist said "What?". That is the last thing I remember.
I had mentioned to the anesthesiologist that I typically shake off anesthetics much faster than most people, and that he ought to give me the maximum safe dose, so that I do not wake up during surgery.
When I woke up, I was back out in the waiting area, but startled the woman that was watching me. Here, people who are put completely under have some med student physically watch them until they wake up to make sure that they are still breathing, etc. She was not expecting me to be conscious for another hour or so. I had JUST come out of surgery. Within a few minutes, I was asking for my glasses and a drink, and sitting up talking.
In general, I was in not too much pain. My butt hurt quite a bit, of course, but also my throat was quite raw and my voice was hoarse. I was clearly on some good pain killers, and they gave me more while I was sitting there. I was soon wheeled back up to my room and given two pushes (which means a syringe full push directly into one of my IVs) of morphine.
The people kept coming though. Several people from the surgery team came by to check on how my wound was doing, and then there was a long discussion of whether I needed more platelets or not. However, my platelet count was 27, which is fantastic (for me), so it was eventually decided against, although it will be closely monitored. Another big win for me today is that my neutrophil count, which was 0.0 yesterday, and the day before, etc popped up to 110! It is clearly on the way up and while it will probably waver a bit 500 is the magic number for going home. I want to see what it is tomorrow.
Bedtime now.
Love you all,
Leif
I will skip to surgery so that this post is not too long and I can go to bed early. Down in surgery, there were a number of people who "were glad to meet" me. I am not sure what this is about. Did they know my case history and it has been a big topic of discussion? Do they know something personal about me that they like? Is this just something that they say to all surgery patients to help calm them? I have no idea. Anyway, before surgery there was a lot of friendly chatting and people sitting around. I think that if I had a deck of cards on me, I could have gotten a game going. They did all the official paperwork too, of course, but it seemed very social.
The anesthesiologist came by and explained that they were going to put me completely under with some sort of gas, and after I was out, that they would have to put a tube down my throat so that I could breath while I was under. I said that would be fine - whatever is needed, signed his form. As they were getting me ready to be rolled into the operating room, one of the younger guys opened his lab coat and from the inside pocket, pulled out a couple of syringes, and asked if I wanted anything, you know, to help you relax. It just felt so much like a illegal drug transaction that I found it very funny. I suppose most people are pretty stressed going into surgery, but I was actually quite relaxed, so I said that I was all set.
They gave me some pure oxygen and then changed over the gas to something else. I complained that it was hard to breath but my voice was really muffled by the mask and the anesthesiologist said "What?". That is the last thing I remember.
I had mentioned to the anesthesiologist that I typically shake off anesthetics much faster than most people, and that he ought to give me the maximum safe dose, so that I do not wake up during surgery.
When I woke up, I was back out in the waiting area, but startled the woman that was watching me. Here, people who are put completely under have some med student physically watch them until they wake up to make sure that they are still breathing, etc. She was not expecting me to be conscious for another hour or so. I had JUST come out of surgery. Within a few minutes, I was asking for my glasses and a drink, and sitting up talking.
In general, I was in not too much pain. My butt hurt quite a bit, of course, but also my throat was quite raw and my voice was hoarse. I was clearly on some good pain killers, and they gave me more while I was sitting there. I was soon wheeled back up to my room and given two pushes (which means a syringe full push directly into one of my IVs) of morphine.
The people kept coming though. Several people from the surgery team came by to check on how my wound was doing, and then there was a long discussion of whether I needed more platelets or not. However, my platelet count was 27, which is fantastic (for me), so it was eventually decided against, although it will be closely monitored. Another big win for me today is that my neutrophil count, which was 0.0 yesterday, and the day before, etc popped up to 110! It is clearly on the way up and while it will probably waver a bit 500 is the magic number for going home. I want to see what it is tomorrow.
Bedtime now.
Love you all,
Leif
Hey Leif! I've been thinking of you all day, and am so glad to read you being your essential, redoubtable, irreplaceable self. My assessment of the 'glad to meet you' schtick is that the surgeons and other medical professionals are anxious to demonstrate, to themselves as much as to you, that they do NOT see you as a slab of meat on a table, but a real live human being with a personality and everything. I'm guessing this 'greet the meat' protocol is a recent development, given historical problems with cocky surgeons who might tend to treat 'patients' as mechanical problems with a personality sporadically attached. Basically, they're doing their best not to piss you off, in hopes of forestalling future lawsuits.
ReplyDeleteLove you!
Probably so. I am looking forward to seeing you soon.
DeleteOh, also I'm glad they've made it protocol to explain about the breathing tube in advance. When I had my wisdom teeth out, nobody told me anything, and when I woke up with a sore throat and sore ribs from being breathed too deeply, it was all the worse for being unanticipated.
ReplyDeleteCrazy day Leif! Glad you're shocking people left and right with your super powers...waking up 20 minutes after surgery...damn! Wishing you a day filled with numbers that impress. Love you both.
ReplyDeleteRobin Peskoe