Cutting Out

The truth of the matter is that for several days after the operation, I was in no condition to write about it, but I think I'll pretend that the missing week doesn't exist, and write about my experiences as they were happening in order from last week.

So, Monday afternoon and evening, I suffered through the prep, cleansing my bowel until my (frequent) bowel movements were mostly water, with some yellowish gunk. I drank a lot of water, a bottle of Gatorade, and a couple wine glasses of white cranberry juice. The first time I went through the prep for a colonscopy, I was weak and tired, and felt totally drained. I could walk only slowly and barely keep my mind focused on what I had to do. Liz led me through the procedure, at least as far as getting me to the care of the nurses. This time wasn't bad at all. I felt fine, just a little hungry, but fit and strong. I got up around 7, because of the whole bathroom thing, and I chose some loose-fitting clothes to wear to the hospital. I almost made breakfast for Liz.

Li got up closer to 8:30, and was fixing her breakfast when I got a phone call from the hospital, asking if I could come in an hour early, in case the OR was ready early. I said I'd have to ask my ride, and told Liz what was being asked. She nodded, and I said, "Yes, I could be there at 9:45."

After I rang off, I told Liz it meant we had to leave in twenty minutes, and she wasn't dressed yet. She kind of rushed through the rest of her breakfast, gathered a few things in a bag, and off we went.

I drove. Liz joked about making me drive to my own execution, but I'd just as soon drive as sit thinking, so I didn't mind. I knew where the parking lot was anyway. We got to the hospital at 9:35, and up to the on time.

I registered,which didn't take long. Handed the receptionist or clerk or whatever her title might be my insurance card and driver's license. I still had the blood type form from the pre-op testing. We went on to the next space, and waited a few minutes before I was called back.

I was handed off to a nurse, who took me back into the pre-op area, where I'd had the pre-op testing the week before. She weighed me (158 lbs dressed), and took me to a bed with my name on it. I stripped, and put on the hospital gown and slippers, and got onto the bed to wait. The nurse came back in a few minutes, and asked me, again, who I was and why I was there. She seemed impressed that I could tell her exactly what the procedure was. Robot-assisted right hemicolectomy for sessile polyps. I told her I teach anatomy and physiology to nurses, which is true. It's easier to just use the right terms that to make something up that gets the point across.

After assuring herself I was the right patient, for the second or third time, she asked about my medications, doses and timing, and when was my last dose for each, and then allergies. Once, more than a decade ago, I got an ingrown hair on the back of a finger, and I kept picking at it. After a couple of days, the finger started turning red, and then I got red streaks going up the back of my hand. A resident started me on an antibiotic, which didn't seem to help much. Three days later, I had a fever of 102 F, and threw up in the morning. My finger and hand looked worse. So a doctor stopped my antibiotic, and started me on another, and told me to go home to bed. I did. I took the new antibiotic, and I felt much better the next day. After a week, though, and before I had finished the course of the drug, I got a fine, red rash from my head to my feet. So, maybe I'm allergic to that antibiotic. Because of that rash, every time I go somewhere for a medical procedure I have to have a red band put on my wrist with the name of that antibiotic on it. For the rest of my life.

Then the nurse put in an IV on the back of my left hand. It burned a little when she put it in, but she taped it down efficiently, and the fluid she flushed through it flowed smoothly, and it didn't get in the way. She hung an IV bag, but I couldn't tell if she started a fluid drip.

Liz was brought back to my space. She commented on the kind of people you see in a waiting room at a hospital, which shows why the nurse was impressed that I knew the right name for the part of me the surgeon was cutting out. I guess a lot of people don't know their butts from page 8. Liz got out her Kindle, and started reading to me. Shadows, by Robin McKinley. Lots of weird stuff in that book. I'm enjoying it. While she read, and I concentrated on remaining calm, I farted noisily a few times. I told Liz I was practicing, as farting after surgery is considered an important accomplishment. She smiled indulgently.

A few minutes later, a doctor came in. He was an anesthesiologist. Not the one for the surgery, but an extra, offering something else that might help.

"I can give you a transverse abdominal block, which can help with abdominal wall pain," he explained. I'd never heard of that, but it makes sense. Use a local anesthetic to block the pain fibers in the belly wall, and you don't feel any pain there.

The procedure uses an ultrasound to find the nerve. A drug is injected around the nerves on the two sides of the abdominal wall, and the whole front is numb. It only took a few minutes. I don't know how much it helped, but it seems like a good idea. Before he did it, the anesthesiologist had me sign consent forms, because he gave me a small dose of versed or something like that for pain caused by the numbing process, which meant I couldn't really sign legal forms anymore. So I signed permission forms for his procedure and for anesthesia during the operation. That doctor would be Dr. Sleeper. How appropriate for an anesthesiologist.

Liz cam back, and we waited. She read as long as she could, and still we waited. I think it ended up, I was taken back for the operation at the original scheduled time, so rushing to get there early was kind of wasted effort, but maybe it bought some good will. In the end, a nurse came in, said it was time, and took me away. I don't remember arriving in the OR, so I must have got some drugs before we left. That's all I remember from before the operation. Quiet, calm, steady professionalism. And everyone impressed by my use of technical language. Is it really that unusual? I did see Dr. Paddy (Ananthan Padmanabhan) and Dr. Sleeper before I was taken back, but only briefly. I don't mind giving up control when I'm not responsible for the outcome.