The gallbladder is gone and I'm back home. That's the good news, the bad news is that I feel like a truck ran over me or someone kicked me in the stomach. I have four small holes the biggest of which is in the naval. That's where the gallbladder came out of and it's also the most sore.
My hospital experience
was both good and bad so I'll start with the bad. I was called early yesterday morning asking if I could come earlier as there had been a cancellation. So I obliged since I really did want to get this over with. Upon arriving at this big city hospital we were directed to check in which went relatively quickly considering how many people were already there. I was directed to the pre
op area by following a line on the floor, green I think it was. Once we found the room, it was filled with people sitting on ordinary hard chairs dressed in hospital gowns and hanging on the I.V. poles! I was directed to change into a gown, put my clothes in a plastic bag and join the crowd. After meeting with the nurse and getting my very own I.V. pole I sat down to wait, and wait and wait some more. My surgery time came and went and still I waited. It was cold, the chairs were hard and I watched one young women go into a cubicle, change back into her street clothes and leave. Guess she chickened out. Meanwhile Steve and my girlfriend had to wait in the hallway, standing with all the other relatives for two hours.
Finally they came for me and off the O.R. I went. The anesthesiologist introduced himself and told me he was putting me to sleep. I said fine, just make sure I wake up. That brought a chuckle. I actually had to get off the stretcher and walk myself into the O.R. and lie down on the table. I found that a little unnerving actually and my surgeon still wasn't around. Her assistant was though and he made a crack about how he'd been partying the night before and was hung over. I looked at him in horror and he laughed and said he was just joking, "see my hand" and held up his hand to show it wasn't shaking. I'm told by the offspring that this is a classic O.R. joke. Then I was out.
My next memory is waking up in horrible pain in recovery and being given morphine. I promptly passed out again and awoke in my assigned room. I was in and out of a morphine haze until my blood pressure dropped to 76/42 and they cut me off morphine. From then on until present it's just Tylenol
3 and trust me it doesn't cut it.
I was in a room with 6 patients and 3 nurses so I was pretty pampered. That was the good part, the bad part was that sleep was difficult. Thank goodness for the I-Pod that I tossed in my bag at the last moment on my offspring's
advice. That kept me in my own little world and I drifted in and out. I will say it was the longest night of my life and even my nurse agreed. It just seemed to drag on. After a breakfast of a boiled egg and a slice of toast my sweetie sprung me this morning and brought me home.
Back in the early eighties, if you were having any kind of surgery you went into the hospital the day before, were given a little sedative before you hit the O.R. so that by the time you got there you weren't stressed. Those days have sure gone by the wayside which is too bad. There were a lot of stressed out people, me included waiting their turn.
I'm going to take a couple of days off from blogging to recover from this ordeal. Thanks to all of you out there who sent good wishes...Rositta