I want to thank all of you who sent me “Get Well” wishes and prayers. I am happy to report that it all worked beautifully. My surgical experience was successful physically, but my hospital stay—if you can call it that—was very perplexing.
It has been over 30 years since I last had a serious operation. Things have really changed a lot in surgeryland. My stay 3 decades ago was 4 or 5 days and I was treated like a princess. There were floral tributes and a procession of visitors to help me with the healing process. This last stay was 4 or 5 hours long and the only flowers and visitors I saw were ones coming in the front door as I was being wheeled out. Don’t get me wrong, I was well taken care of, medically speaking, but the whole process is way different now.
In all fairness, I understand about progress and the amazing strides that the medical community has made, but some things just shouldn’t go so fast. Granted, my two surgeries were very different, but the reality is that for both they knocked me out and cut me open. My recent procedure entailed removing a funky gallbladder (the name of my new band, by the way) and with the one so many years ago, they sent me home with an adorable daughter.
I arrived at the hospital on surgery day bright and early, with my sister and middle daughter in tow. They were there to support me and also protect the hospital staff. Since I couldn’t have anything to eat or drink after 12 a.m., which meant that I could not have even a drop of coffee. Can you spell HELL? I was not in the best mood.
We were sent to the second floor Surgery Waiting Room for further instructions. That’s where they would be picking me up and also where my daughter and sister would wait. As we opened the door, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hit my nostrils. Are they kidding? How mean! I knew it was for the benefit of the family members, but it still hurt. I didn’t have to endure the heavenly aroma for very long before someone called my name and took me to my surgical event. I must say that even though the staff was very nice, I still found them a little suspect. The same lady who called my name in the waiting area and then escorted me to my gurney, asked me my name and then wanted to know what I was having done. A little strange, I thought, since all my info was in their computer and my wristband clearly stated who I was. Though caffeine deprived and cranky, I went along with it obediently. I was then handed a paper hospital gown, a bag for my personal belongings and a pair of butt ugly socks with non-skid rubber stuff not only on the soles, but all over the tops as well. I could only deduce that the socks prevented me from escaping either by running or crawling. Let me jump ahead for a minute... when I was getting ready to leave the hospital, my sister and daughter wouldn’t let me leave the damn socks behind. They were both adamant that I would certainly have a use for harvest gold, stick-to–the–floor, mid-calf socks in my real life. I was too groggy to be insulted so I packed them up and smiled gratefully. I figured they probably cost me $250 anyway, so now they are mine.
OK, now comes the truly exciting part. The paper gown they gave me was amazing! Not your standard issue throw-away hospital gown, no sir-ee! This one had back ties, side ties, mysterious openings and flaps. It even had this curious thingy on the side that looked like the place where you hook up the bag to the vacuum. I returned to my gurney area only to be greeted by a new nurse, a man this time. Guess what he wanted to know... my name and the reason for my visit to the hospital. Don’t these people talk to each other or write anything down? I sweetly answered while he checked my wristband.
Then the fun began! They asked me if I wanted anything. “A non-fat latte with extra foam”, I replied. By then there were 2 more nurses and they all laughed. I told them I was cold and before I knew it, they had attached a hose that spits out hot air right into my gown! Do you remember the old fashioned bonnet hair dryer for home use? Same principle. As I laid there in my bouffant body bag, they put one pillow under my head and another under my legs. I was very happy and comfortable, but I was aware that I probably couldn’t look more hideous. I was wrong. At that very instant, someone put a poufy paper Martha Washington hat on my head. And then my adorable doctor arrived with a sweet reassuring tone of voice and a sweet smile on his face. I had every confidence in him until he asked me what my name was and what I was having done. Really?
Alright, I get it. This is some kind of safety measure so they don’t take the wrong organ out of the wrong person. Funny thing is, they seem to get the insurance “bill to” info and the co-pay collected on the first go-around.
My anesthesiologist was darling. We chatted for a brief moment as he inserted something into my IV. The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery. The attending nurse was very sweet and asked me if I would like something to eat or drink. I guess they lost my latte order, so we settled on Jell-O and graham crackers. Soon I was released, my sister and daughter showed up, and I was wheel-chaired out of there, gallbladder-less.
All and all , my surgery experience was easy and very efficient. However, I can’t help wondering what surgery will be like a few decades from now. When my sister had her gall bladder out 25 years ago, she spent nearly a week in the hospital. What will surgical procedures be like 25 years from now? Maybe drive-thru... who knows. Or perhaps the patient will just press their iPhone screen against the area to be treated. Maybe there’s already an app for that. My poor sister has a scar the size of tree branch down her belly and I have a 1” slit under my breasts and two little tiny ones on my torso. A big difference, let me tell you. The whole experience left me with a lot of questions, but none as burning as where can I get one of those body warmer machines and a good supply of those Jiffy Pop disposable gowns? Fabulous!
