So after all of my blogging concerning my gallbladder I realized I never actually said when the surgery was going to be. Ta Da! It was yesterday. Let me give you a small glimpse into the day in the life of a gallbladder surgery victim. yeah.
When I got to the surgery center (I opted to do that instead of the hospital... less wait, more comfortable atmosphere, friend who works there) I was taken quickly back because there had been a cancellation. They put me in a bathroom and had me change into a gown, slippers, and a shower cap. Then I went out and they started hooking me up to a blood pressure machine, oxygen saturation machine, and an IV. The Dr. of Anestesia started talking to me and asking me questions. They told me they weren't trying to gang up on me, just getting me ready fast because of that cancellation. I didn't mind. The faster the better.
Dr. Fore stopped by to talk to me a bit and instantly made me feel comfortable. He couldn't be more kind and personable. Then I was informed they would be putting a tube down my throat to breath. -Bye bye calm!- Then I was informed I would be completely knocked out when they did it and when they took it out. -Nice to have you back-
I was soon wheeled into the operating room where I had to scoot over to this bed (or should I say board) that looked just slightly less wide than my hips. They started to knock me out and it went fast, but not before I saw them strapping me onto the table. yikes!
Next thing I know, I'm waking up with a mask on my face and a spear in my gut. I look down to see why I had a spear in me and to my surprise there is nothing. Then a nurse asks "how are you feeling dear?" and all I could say was "pain" and motion to the phantom spear. She walked over and made some adjustments to my IV and said ok lets kick this up a notch. BAM! Not really though, I can't remember what she said, but it was something to that affect. The next half hour/ 45 minutes consisted of a few things; sprite, nausea, pain, and that annoying thing when all you want to do is sleep and all they want you to do is wake up. They gave me something for the nausea, but it didn't work. They gave me a "cough" suppository "cough" but it didn't work.
They wheeled me out to the car and right as we reached it, I reached for the plastic cup they gave me and puked about 3 times. I have never seen quite that shade of yellow before. I felt slightly better but clung to my new plastic cup the whole way home.
The way home... if I had to think of one word to describe it, torture I think would suffice. The surgery center is already a 35-40 minute drive from home, and we had to stop at the drugstore to get my percocet/nausea meds. Let us not forget, that about 20 minutes after taking my first percocet at the hospital I threw it up so I was running on empty. We stop at walgreens and all I can think is... percocet NOW. And as i'm sleeping in the car I wake up to a loud bang. I looked around and saw nothing and figured I am imaging things in my weird drugged up state. But soon, TJ comes out empty handed saying that the construction crew next door blew out the power so we now have to go to another walgreens. I think you could literally hear my heart break. So we drive another 15-20 minutes down the road and finally get my pain meds and headed home. I woke up and saw we were passing the train tracks. Only 5 more minutes I told myself, then bed, quiet, still, sleeping.
Once I hit the sheets I was out.
So let me just close this by saying a couple of things. First, never underestimate the pain that comes when an organ is removed from your body, no matter how routine the surgery or uneeded the organ is. Second, don't call the surgery hat a shower cap unless you want to be laughed at.
