jenny's belly

How Was *your* Monday?

My dad roped up an old cot with crappy matress so I can actually sleep in a "bed" with sheets which was put in my brother's room so I have a door and a TV at hand!
The sleep sitting up thing is really terrible, but it's what I face until my mid-section is strong enough.

Because part of my esophagus was removed--the important part thankyouverymuch, I have acid reflux regularly. It's not the burning feeling from eating too much food, it's a choking. So I wake up choking. And if I'm lying down flat I can't get up fast enough to STOP choking. You see how fun it is. :)

Monday morning I was very calm. My parents were with with me in the hospital admitting room, which was *FULL* at 5:30. People were standing. I know every patient was there with a person or two but it was still unreal- so, all of us are having surgery and staying overnight, huh?

I was called to check in and they went over my stats as usual, confirmed doctor and operation, collected my healthcare proxy, living will, etc. I of course agreed to be an organ donor but I'm psycho and won't donate my eyes (we can discuss later if need be). They put my hospital number on ID bracelets and used these as luggage tags. They put my suitcase and my mom's overnight bag on a hotel luggage trolley and a few seconds later they called my name.

A nice man with broken english (man: that's the waiting room. Jen to parents: that's where you'll be today. Mom to man: where is the waiting room? Jen: I just said... Jen's dad interrupts to ask where the waiting room is) had my operation location and brought my family through the halls and deep into the basement levels and eventually checked me into gurney #18. I changed out of my civies and into a hospital gown and my parents were allowed to sit with me for awhile. They put on the blood pressure cuff (here we go) and then took it off... this part was tense. I was not being paid attention to, but couldn't leave.

After a bit, they brought over my med id bracelet followed by some kind of a numbing med (no iv yet). They had me lay back on the bed (because I had been sitting up, cross-legged: the universal "I'm fine, what's all the fuss" position) and say goodbye to my parents. My mom could have made me cry but I asked her to just say bye and she would see me later. My dad kissed me goodbye and they were escorted to the patient waiting lobby.

I was terrified of the epidural. I thought it would hurt, but they had me begin to lose dignity by showing off my back (and therefore backside) to the adorable anesthesiogist who began counting and tapping... eventually a needle with a burn... back to the tapping and the counting (and if he mis-counts, I'm outta here). I lie back down, no pain. Shocking.

People start introducing themselves to me with bright smiles and they put on one of those hair thingys on me. I'm still not sure of why because they're not put on like a shower cap, shouldn't they be? What is this decorational? The people are all young (early thirties), but I'm impressed and have full confidence. Everyone wears turquoise. Even me. We look good. :)

They unlock my bed and start rolling me to OR #28. As I'm waiting to be turned into the room a nurse makes the vroom-SCREEEECH sound and spins around to me. He's the turquoise bandit until he pulled the mouthscreen (what? I don't know, you know what I mean) away from his face with a big smile: Jack Sharpe. Friend of my dad, hockey coach of my brother, father of a guy I went to high school with--- very senior OR nurse at BWH. I did NOT expect a familiar face and was so happy to see him. "You'll be out in two hours." "Uh, Jack they're telling me five or six." They handed him my chart. "You won't know the difference." :)

He exits and insanity starts. Everyone is doing everything, and I'm still awake because I insisted on seeing Dr. Osteen. My doctor walks in close to 7:30 operating time, I said good morning to him and he said good morning to me and walked behind me where everyone else was. They put the old oxygen mask on (it's only oxygen my ass) and told me to deep breathe. When 3 or 4 people tell you to breathe deep in the operating room you know you're going under. So I breathe...

And I wake up with more tubes coming out of places than I imagined possible. Side of my neck, my left side, down my throat, each arm... And that side one, which pushed through to my chest, was horribly painful. It's the first thing I complained about when I heard people trying to wake me up. I just learned today from my Aunt El who was with my parents that this happened in recovery.

I'll save my stories for beyond monday for later, but share a little something with you. It's a tiny, tiny part of the whole, just my belly, shows nothing obscene, and lets you see my clean, pretty line of staples (drunken staples per my aunt jo). And what the F is that blue dot? I have a blue permanent dot ONLY there.

"Surgery goes HERE"



I was allowed to wear the yellow "livestrong" bracelet the whole time but I just took off my med id bracelet today. I think I've been waiting for them to haul me back in...

posted by Jen at 7:55 PM