The Big Day

Day 1 (Monday) – Surgery Day

When you check into any hospital. the first thing you need to come to grips with is that you are sacrificing all individuality. self respect and … Privacy.  Open-back gowns – still?  Seriously?  could not a modicum of privacy be injected into to the hospital couture by 2012?  Would a little Velcro be so bad?

Quick fast like a bunny I’m whisked into a pre-op room, where I relinquish all my clothes and jewelry.  Since I’m a professional, I’ve left all my jewelry at home.  Now if I’d been really S.M.A.R.T..  I would have also S.HA.V.E.D. every damned hair off my body – or at least off my back, stomach, both arms and neck.  Why?  Have you ever had that lovely clear tape they use to hold your IV in with (pretty sure it’s the exact same formula as Home Depot Gorilla Tape) ripped off of an even  moderately hairy body part? OWWWWWWWWW!  Dammit.  And when you’re going to be coming out with about 3 feet more incisions (and therefore equivalent wide swaths of tape) than you started out with.. you may want to give this little matter a lot of consideration.

Just sayin’.

Pre-op is  where you get to change into your fancy new duds for the “Big Day” — a backless gown (It’s a “Jonny”, OK.  Karl Lagerfeld is probably never going to have one of these in his Spring Collection…), brightly-colored smiley-face traction sox (great idea – wish I’d thought of it… and snazzy kitchen-help hat (again – would color / pattern options be so much of a hardship?

This is where you also get to visit with your family for  a bit before the nice anesthesiologist shows up with his syringe fully of “happy juice”  after which you will remember very little if anything.  And off to the OR you go.

My wife, children and I got to spend some time visiting after I got changed and had my first IV installed. Even at the age of 61, I’m still getting and appreciating stuffed animals from my closest family  members and they come back with an adorable floppy blue bunny who’s name is “Scoli”

We also answer lots sf questions, I sign lot s of forms, meet with the Doctor, who will personally sign the part(s) he’s going to be cutting on (Guess why this became SOP) and swap old home stories, as both Doctor Hostin and I are from California originally.  Dr. Hostin is one of my favorite people.  He’s’ unassuming, easy-going, a cool kind-of guy all around and THE man you want fixing your twisted spine.  Period.  I cannot say enough good things about this man, his staff and the amazing folks at Baylor Plano Hospital.

The Man With the Happy Juice moseys in about now and all my family members hold out their forearms in hopes of getting some of the “good stuff” I’m about to get – (It would make the wait a lot less stressful) and  it’s time to say bye-bye to my wife (who’s holding up pretty well, considering her husband is about to undergo a 6-hour surgery), my great kids, the eldest a Teacher, the youngest a Network Wizard with LinkedIn and roll off to the OR <to the tune of “Rawhide”>.

This is a very important moment for all of you so reassure each other this is going to turn out well.  Positive thoughts are crucial.  You do not want to go into surgery with worry or uncertainty.  Pick the best team you can find and TRUST them.  Period.

If you’ve never had major surgery before, lemme clue you in in something that can be a little distressing when you come out of the anesthesia:  You’re likely to have a lot more lines going in and out of you now than you did when you lost consciousness.  Lots.  OK?

You will most likely wake up catheterized. (Called a Foley)  If you can’t even stand up, you’re not going to make it to the bathroom, right?  So into the bag it goes and you don’t even have to think about it.  For most men this is more than a little distressing (Who’s been messing with my Junk?) – and erections smart something fierce with a garden hose shoved up there.  OK, relax.  It’s not nearly that big.  It just looks like it because…   OK.  Let’s move on…
An extra IV is common.
A Central Line is also common (on your upper chest).  It’s the most efficient way to get meds and blood in / out during your stay.
Lots of sticky pads with electrical leads connected to them are for your Heart Monitor.
And in my case, a whole series of additional sticky pads from one end to the other for “monitoring” of my spinal cord.  Sounds pretty smart to me.  This goes on in the OR while you’re napping and everyone else is scrubbing in.

Once surgery is over, it’s straight to ICU for me.  Do not Stop.  Do not pass Go.  They don’t even make an attempt to wake me up.  Just let me “dream of electric sheep” until the next morning. [Your Mileage May Vary]