Do not go gently into the good night - E. Dickinson
Today is day 4 post-op. I've been thinking long and hard about what to say and how to say it. I went in for a relatively routine procedure and could have lost everything. Here's my story..
Tuesday July 18. We arrive at the surgery center at 6:40 am as instructed. I am immediately taken into the "recovery area" where they take all of my vitals and information, verify what procedures that I am having then send me off to "empty my bladder" and change into one of those really ugly surgical gowns. I emerge from the restroom and see my husband sitting there. He smiles at me, a nervous smile, but still a beautiful smile. We talk to for a little bit while the nurses are hooking IV's into me, he holds my hand and tells me how much he loves me and thanks me for going through this to increase our already slim chances of conceiving naturally. A few minutes later, I ask to see my mom. Because, well, she's my mom and always knows the right things to say. I know that she can see the nervousness in my eyes and she leans down next to me and whispers that this is for the best and for the future baby I will one day bear. Time is up and it is time to be wheeled into the Operating Room.
I get into the Operating Room and the first thing I see is all of the shiny pointy objects ready to invade my body. I begin cracking jokes like I'm Chris Rock on stage at the Apollo. I scooch over to the operating table and the Anethesiologist inserts a relaxant and "the drugs" into my right arm.
Problem 1: The IV was hooked up in probably the smallest vein in my right arm and the doctor does not understand why she didn't hook it into my hand since my veins were perfect. The needle shoots out and the drugs infiltrate my arm and miss the vein entirely. All drugs end up under the skin and have no effect on me.
They move the IV from the right side to the left. The Anethesiologist inserts the IV into my left hand an I immediately begin to feel to effects... too fast.
Problem 2: My air supply gets cut off. I try telling them that I cannot breathe and point to my throat. They begin telling me to calm down and relax. My body starts shaking and going into what I like to define as a series of seizures. I rip the IV out of my hand. I remember the nurse running to the intercom yelling something over the speaker and about 30 people running into the room. I hear the Anethesiologist yell "Oh Shit!" and throw a gas mask on my face. My Last thought: I can't believe this is going to be my last memory on Earth.
Obviously, I am alive if I am writing this blog. I awake from Surgery and try to get the quadruple images out of my head. I see doctors and nurses standing around me asking how I feel. I feel fine I guess. Suddenly, the Anethesiologist makes his appearance and asks how I am. I apologize for the incident that happened in the Operating Room. He looks at me and says "What are you talking about?" I sit back for a moment and relive the entire situation and he walks away. My husband comes in and I tell him what happened. As I do with my mom and mother-in-law who are all there with me.
My family thought it might have just been a panic attack but I knew differently. After the morphine that they doped me up on and other drugs wear off, I am able to tell the full story. After that, no one believes that I was suffering from a panic attack. My mom notices that my face is about 3 times it's normal size. She calls the doctor but they are closed, she proceeds to leave a message. The next day we get a call back from the doctor's office, they say not to worry. Meanwhile, my throat is in a lot of pain. Not even an hour after the doctor's office calls, the Anethesiologist calls to check on me. WHAT?!? They NEVER call. I didn't say anything to him because I wanted to talk to my doctor on Monday when I go back or my post-op appointment. I found out later from my family that they never even told them that anything went wrong.
I'm not nuts. I vividly remember the entire thing until the "Oh Shit!" comment. I haven't yet been able to sleep without thinking or dreaming about it. I told my family last night that the experience really messed me up. I only thank God, that I'm OK.
Tuesday July 18. We arrive at the surgery center at 6:40 am as instructed. I am immediately taken into the "recovery area" where they take all of my vitals and information, verify what procedures that I am having then send me off to "empty my bladder" and change into one of those really ugly surgical gowns. I emerge from the restroom and see my husband sitting there. He smiles at me, a nervous smile, but still a beautiful smile. We talk to for a little bit while the nurses are hooking IV's into me, he holds my hand and tells me how much he loves me and thanks me for going through this to increase our already slim chances of conceiving naturally. A few minutes later, I ask to see my mom. Because, well, she's my mom and always knows the right things to say. I know that she can see the nervousness in my eyes and she leans down next to me and whispers that this is for the best and for the future baby I will one day bear. Time is up and it is time to be wheeled into the Operating Room.
I get into the Operating Room and the first thing I see is all of the shiny pointy objects ready to invade my body. I begin cracking jokes like I'm Chris Rock on stage at the Apollo. I scooch over to the operating table and the Anethesiologist inserts a relaxant and "the drugs" into my right arm.
Problem 1: The IV was hooked up in probably the smallest vein in my right arm and the doctor does not understand why she didn't hook it into my hand since my veins were perfect. The needle shoots out and the drugs infiltrate my arm and miss the vein entirely. All drugs end up under the skin and have no effect on me.
They move the IV from the right side to the left. The Anethesiologist inserts the IV into my left hand an I immediately begin to feel to effects... too fast.
Problem 2: My air supply gets cut off. I try telling them that I cannot breathe and point to my throat. They begin telling me to calm down and relax. My body starts shaking and going into what I like to define as a series of seizures. I rip the IV out of my hand. I remember the nurse running to the intercom yelling something over the speaker and about 30 people running into the room. I hear the Anethesiologist yell "Oh Shit!" and throw a gas mask on my face. My Last thought: I can't believe this is going to be my last memory on Earth.
Obviously, I am alive if I am writing this blog. I awake from Surgery and try to get the quadruple images out of my head. I see doctors and nurses standing around me asking how I feel. I feel fine I guess. Suddenly, the Anethesiologist makes his appearance and asks how I am. I apologize for the incident that happened in the Operating Room. He looks at me and says "What are you talking about?" I sit back for a moment and relive the entire situation and he walks away. My husband comes in and I tell him what happened. As I do with my mom and mother-in-law who are all there with me.
My family thought it might have just been a panic attack but I knew differently. After the morphine that they doped me up on and other drugs wear off, I am able to tell the full story. After that, no one believes that I was suffering from a panic attack. My mom notices that my face is about 3 times it's normal size. She calls the doctor but they are closed, she proceeds to leave a message. The next day we get a call back from the doctor's office, they say not to worry. Meanwhile, my throat is in a lot of pain. Not even an hour after the doctor's office calls, the Anethesiologist calls to check on me. WHAT?!? They NEVER call. I didn't say anything to him because I wanted to talk to my doctor on Monday when I go back or my post-op appointment. I found out later from my family that they never even told them that anything went wrong.
I'm not nuts. I vividly remember the entire thing until the "Oh Shit!" comment. I haven't yet been able to sleep without thinking or dreaming about it. I told my family last night that the experience really messed me up. I only thank God, that I'm OK.
posted by Anonymous> |
11:26 AM
1 Comments:
Welcome to the wonderful world of hospitals! You should read my early blog describing where I went in for surgery. It is at http://teaching-and-all-that-jazz.blogspot.com in the May archive. That experience taught me to stay as far away from doctors and hospitals as humanly possible. I'm glad you made it out of there alive. Take care and feel better.
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