Observations from a patient

I feel a certain obligation to record and share some of the experiences from this past weekend; perhaps by doing so will make for a less traumatic time for someone else, going in for surgery holds so many fears. My particular operation was brought about when an MRI and CT scan found a suspicious tumor on my liver along with a gall bladder which had ceased to operate and was full of stones. I was told that the optimum would be to use laparoscopic technique and withdraw the offending parts through a tiny hole rather than slicing me open and removing them through a large opening. There were variations proposed which would permit the entry of the surgeon’s hand; but would still require considerable recovery time.

On the morning of the operation Lucy drove me to the hospital and we arrived at 6am; everything was prepared the week before and it was just a matter of stripping off my clothes and putting on a hospital gown and a pair of cloth boot/socks. They checked my identification several times to make sure I was going to the right place and then they wheeled me to the operating room area. The hall way was busy with all manner of medical personnel and other patients were lined up, much like airplanes in a holding pattern on the way to a large airport. I didn’t have my glasses on; all the same I was able to recognize my surgeon from among the others as I was moved into a small operating room. I can tell you nothing about what happened from that moment on; not even a memory of any anesthetics being administered.

Several hours later I became aware of my being told I was in the recovery room and that all went very well. I was told that the surgeon was able to use the laparoscopic procedure and that my recovery time would be much quicker because not as much trauma had been inflicted to my organs. Two tumors were removed from my liver; one was more suspicious than the other and would be examined in a lab later in the week. My gall bladder was removed and I now have four very distinct holes in my belly which are covered with gauze bandages.

I was then taken to my room where the rest of the day was used to regain consciousness, having to expel the remainder of the anesthetics through the use of an IV which was in my arm. There was also a bag for antibiotics which was to help stave off infections. My throat was sore, some from before I went in for the surgery and the rest from when they placed a breathing tube in my throat during surgery.

I mentioned that I wore a standard hospital gown; I should explain that there is no such thing as modesty in the hospital setting. A nurse lifted the sheet which covered me along with the portion of the gown covering my lower half. She then checked the catheter which had been inserted and announced that it was doing its job. I mentioned that the skin in that area was itching and she applied some talcum powder. The next day when they removed the catheter I asked, “Is there a way I can leave the room while you do this?”, a mild reminder that I was not accustomed to being exposed in such a way, much less with a total stranger.

I was offered various forms of relief from the pain, morphine via the IV port in my wrist and alternately, Vicodin in tablet form with a little water. The alternating use kept me in some form of pain management the entire time. The morphine was a small dose and went to work in a matter of seconds but only lasted a short time, while the Vicodin took upwards of thirty minutes to take effect and lasted three hours or so.

Saturday, or day two, I was expected to walk around the halls to stimulate healing. I was given a second hospital gown to save the world from viewing my wrinkled old butt. I used the IV pole and the hand rails along the corridor walls to support me. There was a collection of gasses inside me, mostly from the laparoscopic procedure, that were the cause of pain in my shoulders and gut. The walking was to help disperse that gas; it has not gone away yet and this is Sunday evening.

The IV insertion point managed to pull loose from my left wrist and they used the alternative IV which had been put in place at the time of surgery was used. It was in an awkward location on my right wrist and got hooked on the bed rail, pushing the wide portion of the device into my skin. Yes, it hurt and crimped the delivery of drugs to the point of being useless. A third IV was attempted but not successful. I was told that since I was going home in the morning that no more attempts would be made.

Lucy was able to use the couch in my room as a bed; the end pulled out and extended the sleeping surface. It rained so much on Friday as to make me worry about her driving home and I could use the company. I slept with my glasses on, there was an oxygen tube hooked to my ears and two little prongs up my nose. I could not move much to the side and so I had to make do with being uncomfortable in the hospital bed.

We did watch the Astros game, the 17 inning 5 hour and 9 minute loss to the Mets. I have been drifting in and out of sleep for the past couple of days, something like exhaustion followed by limited attempts to return to normal activity. I’m told that I can do almost nothing until a week from now when I go back for a check up next Tuesday.