Surgery: Not for Weenies

As Kirk and I were driving to the hospital, I felt calm. My parents were following us as we were driving and the babies were at home being watched by Kirk's parents. Everything was in place and I just wanted to surgery to be over with ASAP. Yale had called about thirty minutes before we were supposed to leave, asking if I could come in early. My surgeon had finished her other surgery early and was ready for me. So, we left the as soon as we could, but arrived at the hospital only a few minutes earlier than planned. I was admitted quickly and taken to my own little space where a nurse took some information from me, I was changed into huge gown with a cap to cover my hair and socks to keep my feet warm. I had to pump since I was breastfeeding my daughter, and after that I made a quick trip to the bathroom. When I got back they were ready to wheel me back to surgery.

I cried when I had to say goodbye to my parents and Kirk. I kept thinking, gosh, what if something goes wrong? This will be the last time that I see them! I think it's normal to think those thoughts, but those feelings were so intense. Prayer seemed to calm my heart. I was brought to another little holding area where you go just before surgery. There was a man next to me who had just been in a massive car accident. It was hard to feel calm with the twenty doctors and nurses that surrounded him, so I asked if someone could pull the curtain that separated my space from his. I think about that time I was blessed with the presence of a medical student who had come to observe my surgery. She was so sweet and through tears, I tried to tell her my story. She was from Ghana and she told me all about her family and the different doctors she had observed so far and the classes she was taking. It was an excellent distraction from the crisis that happening a few feet away. The anesthesiologist stopped by to introduce herself which I appreciated and within a few minutes I was rolled back to the operating room.

I remember the temperature being frigid. I could hear the clinking of surgical instruments being prepped closeby. The lights were really bright. They had a hard time putting an IV in my hand since my veins were so little. I heard them saying that the drip wasn't working due to a defective catheter - not what I wanted to hear going into surgery. The anesthesiologist put a mask over my nose and mouth and told me to breathe normally. However, I felt like I couldn't breathe at all. I told her three seperate times that I felt like I was getting zero oxygen. She upped it a little, but I still felt like I couldn't breathe. Pretty soon she told me that they were going to start giving me some sort of gas, but to breathe normally. The gas was foul-smelling and seemed to fill my lungs quickly. I could feel my body start to relax, first my legs, then my arms, and I suddenly lost consciousness. Up until that point, I continued to pray.

When I woke up, I was being wheeled into a postoperative area to be observed by a nurse. I remember two things: one, my arm was hurting A LOT and two, I felt very sick. I pointed to my arm and tried to tell whoever would listen that it hurt BAD and then proceeded to throw up all over myself. Surgery was definitely not for weenies. It turned out that the IV in my arm had not been put directly into a vein, so all that fluid had seeped into my arm tissue, causing it to swell....and hurt. My arm was very large and swollen and had been wrapped in a warm towel to try to decrease the swelling. My poor nurse was trying to clean me up since I had thrown up all in my hair and on my gown. After being in the postoperative area for an hour or so, I was able to see Kirk and my parents and then was transferred to my hospital room.

More about my recovery in the next post...