15. The one with the Post Op

 

Last time we left off with me headed off to sleep in the operating room



I start to come around in the post op area. Coming out of Anesthesia (on purpose see lumpectomy post for context) is always such a weird experience.

It isn't exactly 'waking up' as much as it 'coming to'. 

I have had the pleasure of passing out many times in my life (because I have hypoglycemia. Side note: one of the perks of being fluffy was I didn't pass out because I am apparently only hypoglycemic when I am thinner. I have been woozy a myriad of times over the last year and a half).

 And coming to from Anesthesia feels an awful lot like that. The first sense to come back is hearing. I start to become aware of the noises around me. In the area to my right I hear a man moaning. 

The awareness of where I am and why I am here starts to come to me.

Next I realize that my throat hurts.

"Did they intubate me? They must have intubated me. Well that is serious."

Given my line of work I am aware than intubation is only used when things are in danger of heading south. It is a control thing and I appreciated they took that precaution but my throat hurt for days after.

Next I was aware that I was sitting almost upright.

And my legs had some weird massage devices on them making it clear I wasn't going anywhere with out assistance.

After taking an inventory of my assets and what I could and could not feel, a nurse came to check on me.

She asked me if I wanted anything to drink (literally the only place I drink apple just is in the hospital... no idea why but it always sounds appealing in that situation). And I croaked yes please.

The man moaning next to me was being wheeled out and it became rather quiet. I could hear music coming from some place off in the distance but not sure where or what the song was.

I was pretty punked out of my gourd. And remained that way for quite a while after. I was kind of conscious but dozing in and out.

What I did keep track of was the hot tea going on at the nurses station. By estimation I was two bays away from the station and could hear all of their conversations. Even when 'whispered'.

Eyes and ears of a bat.... 




I wasn't eavesdropping per se but I was definitely paying attention.


And the following drama ensued.

Apparently it was late in the evening and the nurses who were currently manning the station were set to be off shift. But they still had me to contend with (there was no negativity about it, just facts) and the hospital still didn't have a bed for me.

That cleared up the 'will I be spending the night' question that was never fully answered pre-op.

Because they were going off shift, they needed the backup to come in and cover.

But she wasn't answering her phone

And they tried calling several times

Which apparently was not a surprise

Also they made mention of 'she better not say she's been drinking'.

Apparently that was a huge no-no and if you were on call you better be sober


I was not sure what this meant for me and I kind of didn't care. If they could leave me where I was, fine by me. I wasn't going anywhere and the idea of moving seems unrealistic and a little scary given the fact I wasn't sure how the rest of me was feeling post surgery.

Some more phone calls happened and they finally got a hold of her.

And apparently she had consumed a glass of wine.

Now they were in a pickle. They couldn't stay but she was out of bounds.

There was a lot of back and forth and rationalizing and when she arrived they left

The much discussed backup came over to me after a few minutes.

My first thought was how much she reminded me of my paternal grandmother - Kay Hallowell.

Their was a physical resemblance but what struck me was her mannerisms. She was efficient and kind at the same time.

I am incredibly fortunate to have had amazing grandparents.

Sherman and Kay Hallowell were some of my favorite people. Sherm had the best laugh ever and he always made sure I had the same chances the boys had and was my cheerleader all through my life until his passing. He died shortly before we confirmed The Mud Puddle was a boy and that is why his middle name is Sherman. What I love is that I see the best parts of my grandfather in the MP.

Kay and I had a special bond. She was in the delivery room when I was born and would proudly state she was the first person to hold me.
She and I would sit up late talking about all the things she was interested in: music, books, tv shows and in particular the royal family. 

If you were ever curious about the origin story of my love of all things British, it was Kay's influence that made me the Anglophile I am today.

She shared with me the history of the royal family, why Princess Diana was so special and we would swap books and updates on the goings on until she passed. 

We also had a shared love of country music (Johnny Cash) and certain 80s tv shows. I don't think I talk about her as much as my other grandmothers but I am a proud descendent of hers and carry all that we shared with me today.



She was a nurse and very proud of her education and profession.

So having the backup instantly remind me of her was incredibly comforting.

She asked how I was feeling, said they were still waiting on a bed and that she would be with me until they were able to move me.

She did so in an empathetic and caring tone that put me at ease.

I knew that I was in good hands regardless of how we had arrived at this interaction.

I continued to doze in and out, she would check on me what I assumed was every 15 minutes or so, with a light touch of my arm not wanting to disturb the semi-conscious state I was in.

Eventually around midnight (that was a long day for some people) they had me a bed and up we went to a regular room.

She drove the bed, got me settled, gave the new nurse the low down and wished me luck.

The floor nurse took my vitals and asked if I wanted to the tv on. To which I replied no thank you.

I slept and she would come in every two hours to take my vitals and check my pain level (none existent, I still had little feeling in anything but my arms and legs).

I watched the sun come up and around 8 a.m. was told I would be sprung sometime that morning.


Next on Kris vs. Cancer: Reasons to be Thankful











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