Just cut me open, already

I walked to the hospital for my surgeries yesterday. I was quite early, arriving there just after 9:30 for my 10:10 appointment. They were running quite late already. The instructions had been to stop eating and drinking at midnight the night before. If I had any advice for someone going into surgery, make sure you actually eat up until midnight. Have a late snack or something, because by the time the anaesthesiologist came to see me, my stomach was grumbling and I was quite irritable.

She still set up an IV without problem, which is the first time this has happened for me. I have had 4 surgeries prior and all used gas on me in the OR for IV setup.

The surgeon came in to speak to me. He had an air of competence about him that made me completely unconcerned, plus being famished, I wasn’t in the place to have a meaningful conversation about what would happen. He likely only would have been able to answer about one area prior to further examination – “just cut me open, already” was my attitude.

I was put in hospital gowns once all my personal details were confirmed. They wanted me to actually tell them what was happening, but I could only confirm the locations to be surgically removed. I knew the date and I knew my birthday, so ultimately, I think it’s just a check for informed consent or something of that nature.

The first gown had what was like a pocket in the front, and tied around the back, the second was worn like a housecoat. The nurse also brought in warmed up blankets, which are kept warm by a machine. She joked about how she’s lucky to not have to pay that electrical bill.

I walked with the OR nurse from that room into the surgical room. It wasn’t a short walk, about 2 minutes or 300 yards worth of distance. I was told to take the house coat off and untie the main gown, then I laid on the surgical table. They gave me more heated blankets and put some cuffs around my ankles. This is the most cognisant I have been for any surgery ever, it was weird to have all my faculties as I laid there. Last thing I remember commenting on was how Amy Winehouse is interesting music to hear before being drugged unconscious, was it “Back to Black”, perhaps I’ll remember it that way for the story.

I don’t remember her telling me she was pushing the drugs to put me under. I just remember waking up in recovery to a nurse talking to me. I think confirming what had occurred and she had a binder with some papers for me. One was a note from the surgeon for my work, saying I should be off until at least April 23rd.

She had tried calling my mom twice, but my mom was busy talking to our financial advisor, likely about taxation. Then she took her sweet time as per usual to come pick me up, while they let me sip on a juice box. They were cautious, they didn’t want me to do so without being forewarned that it could nauseate me.

My mom came in with a wheelchair and wheeled me out to the car, even though I was perfectly fine to walk. I’ve never had such an easy time coming out of a surgery, but I am guessing this is the shortest time I’ve been under too. It was 4:30 when we were heading up the hill to Rossland, and went directly to the pharmacy to pick up my narcotics prescription. I only took one of them that evening, and it did make me feel quite nauseated.

Today, I have been sore but completely pain management free… lazy day though. Looking forward to the wound healing and getting sutures removed.

We went to Hooper’s Bakery, a nice french style bakery in downtown Rossland with eclectic seasonal treats. I chose a personal-sized citrus cheesecake and my mom chose a pastry with grapefruit and basil on it. I managed to eat the cheesecake without much nausea. It was delicious and the sweetness of it felt nourishing. After this, i was groggy and napped on the couch to the sweet sounds of CNN or MSNBC playing in the background, lulling me into complacency; the Percocet I took to get ahead of the pain kicked in quickly but so did the nausea.

Around 6:00pm, my mom made wontons. They’re such a good light food to eat when you don’t feel like you can stomach much. I managed to eat about 5 of them, which is only about 65 calories worth before I was feeling too ill, and laid my head against the couch armrest again. I went to bed around 8:30, an eventful day to me, but not for me.

At 1:00am I woke up to this beeping sound coming from a clock/ weather reader device my dad had bought over 15 years ago. My mom doesn’t think it’s interfering with her sleep because she wears earplugs, but this disturbance could definitely be the cause of some of the strange dreams she’s been telling me about lately. I unplugged it and removed the batteries to get it to stop. I wonder if she has already plugged it back in.

I didn’t sleep well the rest of the night. I was up at 7:30 this morning. Mom made me bacon and waffles and cut up these strawberries that were so tasty I swear she put sugar on them, but she said she didn’t. By 11:30 today, I had all my grocery shopping done and was on my way to consuming about two times as many calories today as I had yesterday.

The doctor’s orders were two sitz baths a day and there is supposed to be some homecare followup too. They called to confirm my information, but nothing else for that is scheduled yet.

I had a writing course at Selkirk in Grand Forks this weekend, that was cancelled today. Unfortunately, everything interesting and side-hustle related that I’ve signed up for by them has been cancelled. I guess I will just keep trying as they’re about the only avenue I’ve found to meet new people that doesn’t involve potentially embarrassing myself by being publicly inebriated.

As uninteresting as this story and sequence of events may be, the point is that sometimes our most pivotal moments come from the things that are done for us and done to us, not the things we actually choose to do. I had no power over my body’s response to those medicines yesterday, I had even thought I might feel well enough to write. I had thought I might feel like pampering myself and doing my nails, but I had no choice.

And still, I will be in this strange stasis for a while, awaiting the results of my biopsy. My past experience is that they’re prioritized, but the surgeon told me to expect them in 10 days. I’m going to have to convalesce and also think up some productive things I can accomplish with my free time, my well time, all the time I feel like I could be working.