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We left the house a bit before 7am yesterday morning, had to be there at 8am so we left extra early because of the trip across 285 west from Tucker gets to be a bit of a bitch. We pulled into the hospital at 7:30, so there was no rush at that point and sat in the OR waiting room until they called me. Then it was a trip over to the pre-op room, where I got into my oh so modest gown, wearing my Anti-Embolism stockings (think thigh-high support stockings crossed with an anaconda), and got into the bed under a nice, warm blanket the microwaved for me.
A couple of OR nurses came by with my paperwork, doublechecking everything to the point of asking me twice (per nurse) where the hernia was, making sure I knew what I signed, and did I want a blood transfusion or was it against my religion (My religion is "Save my life, please.") Followed by the anesthesiologist, who asked all the questions about allergies, drugs I took, illegal drugs (I resisted the "Stripes" answer, "No, but I am willing to learn.") and went over the same questions again. I'm not complaining in the least, I want them to be thorough. Then the nurses started the IV; just lactated ringers and sodium carbonate (?). Then they added the G-Suit over my legs, so I didn't have DVT. They explained it was a new thing that a lot of the surgeons are going to, just because of the 1 in 1000 patient that is otherwise healthy and ends up with an embolism. Again, I didn't complain.
Next, my surgeon (Dr Gravlee, good doctor with an excellent bedside manner) came by to check on me and answered questions so Barb could get everything straight. He even took out a marker and marked the hernia (how could you miss it, it was egg sized). And shortly after him, the anesthesiologist and her nurse came in with a syringe of valium (?) to start getting me to sleep. She said it would take effect quickly, so I kissed Barb and they wheeled me out of the room. Now, things start to get fuzzy. I remember being a little worried that my feel stuck out a little off the bed, I remember going into the OR, and I remember them helping me off the bed onto the table. No glasses, so it was all fuzzy to begin with ("They all wore masks so you couldn't identify them later" - Bill Cosby, 'Tonsils'). And that's it.
Next thing I remember was slowly waking up from a real nice nap with an oxygen mask on that also had a spray of water (weird), kinda a half mask. I opened my eyes and took the mental leap that I was in recovery. I waved at a nurse-shaped blob and she came over to see how I was doing. She took the mask off then asked about pain and nausea. I rated pain at about a 6 or 7 and I was definitely nauseated. She gave me some morphine (WOO!) and some Phenergan to deal with them both, putting me back out for a while. I woke up a little later and the pain was down to a 4 so they wheeled me into a post op room with Barb. I was real nauseated, so they hit me with the Phenergan again and held onto me until I felt better and could get up and go to the bathroom (a milestone in getting me out of there). I dozed off and on until I felt like going to the bathroom, then they bundled me out of there about 3.
We made it home about 4, after a stop at Chick-fil-a for some soup, and Barb pulled across the front yard to the front door so I only had 5 steps to climb. Straight to the loo, then to bed. She went off to get my drugs (Lortab 500 mg is your friend) and I ate my soup. Chick-fil-a soup is damned good. Surprisingly, I was feeling more awake and as long as I didn't move too much I felt fine, so I didn't take the Lortab immediately. Bad move. About 8pm, after I got hungry again and tried some Campbell's Italian Wedding soup (I cannot believe I once liked this crud) that I could barely eat, I started to feel nauseated. I realized it was most likely because the pain was worse than I thought, so I took one tablet. Too late. I barely got the liner out of the trash can before I ralfed. After that and a lot of saltines, I was able to take my pill and managed to doze until midnight when Barb woke me up so I could take my next dose, which I took the max (2). Woke up off and on when I rolled to the wrong position, then at 4:30a I took my next dose, made it to about 7:30a and time for new ice in the bag.
That's where I am now, feeling "okay", surprisingly not stoned, and on the PC playing around. I've had my coffee (yay!) and some eggs, so I have more energy, but I don't feel like moving much at all. It's an effort just to scoot myself back into a better seated position and don't even talk about going to the loo. I've got a stuffed toy (Hefalump) to press against the wound if I have to cough or exert myself, which helps a bit. I plan on seeing what hides out in Hulu.com to entertain myself, otherwise I plan on being a lump for the time being.
Roger
A couple of OR nurses came by with my paperwork, doublechecking everything to the point of asking me twice (per nurse) where the hernia was, making sure I knew what I signed, and did I want a blood transfusion or was it against my religion (My religion is "Save my life, please.") Followed by the anesthesiologist, who asked all the questions about allergies, drugs I took, illegal drugs (I resisted the "Stripes" answer, "No, but I am willing to learn.") and went over the same questions again. I'm not complaining in the least, I want them to be thorough. Then the nurses started the IV; just lactated ringers and sodium carbonate (?). Then they added the G-Suit over my legs, so I didn't have DVT. They explained it was a new thing that a lot of the surgeons are going to, just because of the 1 in 1000 patient that is otherwise healthy and ends up with an embolism. Again, I didn't complain.
Next, my surgeon (Dr Gravlee, good doctor with an excellent bedside manner) came by to check on me and answered questions so Barb could get everything straight. He even took out a marker and marked the hernia (how could you miss it, it was egg sized). And shortly after him, the anesthesiologist and her nurse came in with a syringe of valium (?) to start getting me to sleep. She said it would take effect quickly, so I kissed Barb and they wheeled me out of the room. Now, things start to get fuzzy. I remember being a little worried that my feel stuck out a little off the bed, I remember going into the OR, and I remember them helping me off the bed onto the table. No glasses, so it was all fuzzy to begin with ("They all wore masks so you couldn't identify them later" - Bill Cosby, 'Tonsils'). And that's it.
Next thing I remember was slowly waking up from a real nice nap with an oxygen mask on that also had a spray of water (weird), kinda a half mask. I opened my eyes and took the mental leap that I was in recovery. I waved at a nurse-shaped blob and she came over to see how I was doing. She took the mask off then asked about pain and nausea. I rated pain at about a 6 or 7 and I was definitely nauseated. She gave me some morphine (WOO!) and some Phenergan to deal with them both, putting me back out for a while. I woke up a little later and the pain was down to a 4 so they wheeled me into a post op room with Barb. I was real nauseated, so they hit me with the Phenergan again and held onto me until I felt better and could get up and go to the bathroom (a milestone in getting me out of there). I dozed off and on until I felt like going to the bathroom, then they bundled me out of there about 3.
We made it home about 4, after a stop at Chick-fil-a for some soup, and Barb pulled across the front yard to the front door so I only had 5 steps to climb. Straight to the loo, then to bed. She went off to get my drugs (Lortab 500 mg is your friend) and I ate my soup. Chick-fil-a soup is damned good. Surprisingly, I was feeling more awake and as long as I didn't move too much I felt fine, so I didn't take the Lortab immediately. Bad move. About 8pm, after I got hungry again and tried some Campbell's Italian Wedding soup (I cannot believe I once liked this crud) that I could barely eat, I started to feel nauseated. I realized it was most likely because the pain was worse than I thought, so I took one tablet. Too late. I barely got the liner out of the trash can before I ralfed. After that and a lot of saltines, I was able to take my pill and managed to doze until midnight when Barb woke me up so I could take my next dose, which I took the max (2). Woke up off and on when I rolled to the wrong position, then at 4:30a I took my next dose, made it to about 7:30a and time for new ice in the bag.
That's where I am now, feeling "okay", surprisingly not stoned, and on the PC playing around. I've had my coffee (yay!) and some eggs, so I have more energy, but I don't feel like moving much at all. It's an effort just to scoot myself back into a better seated position and don't even talk about going to the loo. I've got a stuffed toy (Hefalump) to press against the wound if I have to cough or exert myself, which helps a bit. I plan on seeing what hides out in Hulu.com to entertain myself, otherwise I plan on being a lump for the time being.
Roger
