I have had a number of tests at the hospital in the last two months and the very kind receptionist knows me by name and after waiting a few minutes she calls me up to check me in for my big day. I wait just a few more minutes and Tammy comes out to bring me back to the surgical ward. This is my room with a view. It is a flurry of activity getting me ready, lots of questions, then someone else comes into the room and they ask lots of questions, many of them the same as what was asked five minutes before. The nurses keep bringing out the warming blankets, and I feel like I am wrapped in a cocoon of very attentive folks. Lots of double checking who I am, what procedure is happening, it all seems redundant, but I know that there was a time when the wrong person got rolled in for the wrong thing, not happening today. I know my name, date of birth, and why I am there.
The IV is inserted, and they check and double check the "cocktail" of antibiotics, relaxers and fluids that will on a regimented schedule will start dripping through my veins. The anesthesiologist, Jim (this is what AI says about them: An anesthesiologist is a physician who specializes in the care of patients before, during, and after surgery or other procedures) came in carrying his case of narcotics that would be hooked up to my tree of tubes all flowing into the one needle that is taped into my right hand. He listened to me and he answered my questions directly and responded when I gave him information. He was with me quite awhile.
With each interaction I felt listened to and cared for. One of the nurses, when asking me questions, used her loud talking to an old lady voice. I hate that, and after a few questions where the volume and tone were grating on me, I heard her turn and talk to the other nurse, I found my opening and I said, "that is the kind of voice you can use with me, I can hear you just fine". She didn't miss a beat, laughed and stopped the way to loud voice. I was glad that I could say something without me having my "I am not happy" voice. All good, in fact more than good. It is so easy in medical situations to just become a vehicle that has to get something done, but there in my room with a view I felt listened and responded to in a way that helped me to be calm and confident that all was going to be well.
Everyone was doing their jobs well, and as the time progressed they shared that the nurse that almost always is the lead on the pre and post surgical care had been called away on a family matter, so everyone else was doing parts of the job that they don't always do, and Heidi who was my pre post nurse was being a trooper. AND she just keep bringing in newly warm blankets to help keep me in my little cocoon that I was building around me as we got closer and closer to the time that I would be wheeled into the surgical suite.
After all of the consents had been signed, the IV was in, all the questions asked and answered and Jim had been in and out several times, Dr. Niayesh came in, he explained what he would be doing in the procedure and drew lines on my belly, giving him the markers he needed to perform the laparoscopic surgery. I have had my moments with him, his bedside mannerisms are sometimes off putting, and I had long before these minutes before he would be performing surgery on me decided that he was a damn good surgeon and that was exactly what I needed. He left and I made my way, after much fuss of getting unattached and out of my cocoon, to the bathroom.
Back into my cocoon, a new surgical nurse came in along with Jim - the going to give me good drugs guy. Jim started a something that would relax me, he said I might start feeling different in a few minutes. And then we were off. On the way they banged the bed into a cabinet in the hallway, and the last words i said were, "you all need to do a better job in the surgical suite than you have done in the hallway".
I have had two sinus surgeries and a UPPP, they were done at the University of Wisconsin and the University of Minnesota. This room was much smaller, no music playing and there were lots of people, the surgeon, the drug guy, and not sure if there were two or three nurses, and there was another guy not sure what his role was. There was a gigantic big light overhead, and as they pumped up my cocoon bed to be level with the surgical bed I felt surrounded by these people who were all doing their jobs. I had a surge of gratefulness along with a little anxiety that here I was and soon I would be "out" and they would all be doing their jobs, and I wanted them to do it very well. A mask was loosely placed over my mouth, I remember watching that very big light and feeling a little uncomfortable with the mask while at the same time wishing that I would be "out" soon - and bingo gone.
The next thing I knew I was back in my cocoon room, Jim and a number of nurses all around me, my body and mind just felt overwhelmed, it was not an easy return to the land of the post surgical living, but all I heard in sweet calming voices was "you do so so good", "you are ok", "its all right", "it went really really well". This did not feel like a gentle return, and it took awhile, they needed to do a number of things that I am not really sure what it was. I had a nebulizer treatment, and they pushed more drugs through the iv, i was not the calm, relaxed person that they wheeled into the surgery room. I did still have some semblance of people being able and willing to take care of me. It got better and better, less overwhelm, and the ability to be a little more present. Heidi was a champ, Jim kept giving direction and I keep on recovering. It is a good word, recovery room. I was recovering back to myself, back from the effects of the procedure and the drugs.
Dr. Niayesh came in after I was more present and stabilized, I had eaten 3 1/2 slice pieces of toast with butter and had a few sips of tea and water. He commented about the remaining 1/2 slice and mentioned people in Gaza. Oh my, Gaza, I responded that my not eating the rest would not help people there. He responded about the need to grow wheat, and I agreed with him. Then I asked if he had family in Gaza, no not there but in Iraq. I asked him more, and we got to Rumi and Persian mystics and poets and he recited a part of a Rumi poem in Persian, who would have thought. I was transported and he knew it, and there we were in my room with a view and we traveled together through the cosmos for just a few minutes. He talked about Shams de Tabriz and Rumi and their love, yes we got to love. Amazing what happens with hearts, my heart that held strong while being operated on, my heart wide open listening to the lilt and longing of Rumi's words in Persian, my heart feeling the care the care of this entire surgical team.
The nurses were doing everything to get the Dr. back on schedule for the next thing. I was getting more and more ready to be sent away and back home. Diana had been called, and soon I had my coat and hat on, all my things in my big bag and Heidi walking me out to meet Diana and head for the car. It was still grey, not raining, and feeling mild. I had forgotten my blanket/pillow and Heidi ran back in and one last time handed me a warm blanket to help me in making my next cocoon.
The drive was easy, the conversation so very good. Diana was the best taking care of me person. She made dumpling soup. I put on good CD's. I sat with my ice pack and my blanket, still feeling my cocoon. Every six hours I take my tylenol and ibuprofen, there is very little pain. I am breathing deep, and coughing and walking. Diana has just left, and I am once again in my little house. I have had tea and toast and drinking lots of water. Randi and Ira will arrive soon, Ted and Terry are across the street and "on call" if I need anything. I am finishing up my blog and needing to remember to take it easy, to just let me body heal. To just be present.
It's a gift. Just be present.
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