The Surgery

Today is January 24, that would be nine days after surgery (January 15).

I haven't been avoiding blogging about this experience, exactly, but I haven't exactly been rushing up to the computer either, as some of you have observed to me.

That's not because we got a bad outcome. The surgery was a brilliant success according to Dr. Smith, the surgeon, who came into my room the day after, wreathed in smiles. "I don't have bad days, just good days," he announced, thus proving that he is well endowed with the unbelievable arrogance proper to surgeons, "but this wasn't a good day, this was a Better Day." Now I don't think he would necessarily have announced to me that he'd done a bad job if that had been the case, but he's a pretty understated kind of guy, and he wouldn't have rushed in to crow at me unless there was good reason for it.

I haven't avoided blogging, then, because I'm disappointed in the outcome, just because those five days - surgery and the hospital stay - are not days in my life that I'm anxious to dwell on, let alone re-live. But what do you expect, this was major surgery.

I was in very serious pain a lot of the time, in spite of the self-directed morphine pump. At first, I could hardly move. I didn't have a bath or wash my hair all that time, which meant that my hair felt as though someone had dipped it in glue.

If anyone here ever has this surgery, just know that you've signed up for one - hopefully only one - very bad day. That would be not the day of surgery, since the anesthetic takes a while to wear off (I did have a general it turns out, their idea, I guess I misunderstood). That would be the first day afterwards. They want you to get up and walk that day, too, with a walker. I could just barely make it to the door of the room, and I thought I was going to faint.

There are just a few memories I want to keep.

• the look on the surgeon's face when they took me into the OR. There were three giant electronic consoles with lights and colors, looking like the command deck of the Starship Enterprise - more on this later - and next to them was Smith, grinning from ear to ear like a pig in mud. I saw that there was nothing on earth he'd rather have been doing that morning than this surgery. I like a man who enjoys his job. What a positive message, too, just before they knock you out. I don't think he did it for my benefit, by the way, I don't think he's even aware of it. This kind of enthusiasm, you can't fake it.
  
• everyone who came to visit. My husband, steady and true. My clients, who brought the tulips. (This is clearly above and beyond the call.) My oldest son. My foster-son the doctor, who sailed in masterfully and reviewed the chart. So much emotional support.
• my roommate. Semi-private room, curtained, and the poor woman was really sick, much sicker than I was, but she had the zip to take care of me, harass the staff on my behalf when I couldn't muster the energy, say the encouraging word. If you'd asked me ahead of time I'd have said I'd prefer a private room, but if the choice had been, a private room or a room with Katie, it's a room with Katie, hands down.
• Many - not all - of the staff members. Particularly the folks lower down on the staff level, below RN. There will be some stories on this in posts to come.
  
• Last but not least, getting the heck out of there. Hospitals, like a number of other institutions (the Catholic Church leaps to mind, but this problem is hardly rare) have lost track of their original purpose. In the hospital's case, this would be, helping people to get well. But the way they operate the place, a lot of time they're working in the other direction.

Whew. So now that's over, this post. Now I feel free to make a bunch of others on more specific topics.