The Wait, Surgery, Recovery

The Wait
If anyone ever tells you that it's easy to wait and prepare for major surgery, my guess is they're lying or perhaps just fool hearty. A planned surgery is just that, planned. The planning has more to do with other people's schedules and issues rather then your own. In my case recently, there was about a two week period from diagnosis to surgery. The times can be shorter or longer based on many issues. When I was told about my need for surgery, the time seemed just about right. Little did I know. At first, there was much to do and as time went on, way too much. Time began to be my enemy. Now much depends on the seriousness of the procedure but that's part of what occurs during The Wait. Various people review risk factors with you based on pre-operative assessments, etc. The greater the risks become, the more you feel the need to get things done and time moves on. So getting papers in order, making sure estate plans are up to date, organizing the things you've said you were going to organize for years - all of these things begin to weigh heavily, and time moves on. There is a point when you realize you won't get everything done but you've done the best you can. In addition to all of this there is the nagging fear that not just something, but everything will go wrong. All of the risks will come to fruition, all at the same time. Oh well.

And then it comes - the day of reckoning, the sleepless night, the early rise and arrival at the hospital. Everyone caring and wondering if you're doing ok? Sure, I'm great, just waiting for the next phase of this horror show. The Nurses, the Anesthesiologist, the Surgeon, all offering last minute assurances. The Surgeon reminds me again of my respiratory issues and suggests I begin thinking now about deep breaths so it's on my mind when the surgery ends.

Surgery
Rolling into the operating room, everyone trying to make you feel comfortable. Then the friendly and professional Anesthesiologist says, "We've kept you here long enough. Now I'm going to give you something to help you relax." That's it! Next thing I know people are shaking me and saying "Take deep breaths, take deep breaths." Am I here? Where exactly am I? People are talking, telling me where we're going. I'm a bit confused. A short section here but that's all I remember.

Recovery
Before I know it or can realize it, I'm up walking, taking halting steps with the aid of a nurse and an IV monitor. The Dr. arrives while I'm walking and explains that from his perspective, the surgery was a success. Bad section of intestine removed (good riddance) and reattached. No problems, keep breathing, keep walking, Pathology report will be forthcoming.

So the recovery phase begins just like that. My clear liquid diet gets confused with a clear soft diet at one point and I over do it on cream of wheat - um um good! My eyes begin to turn orange or orangish red from jello at every meal. Pain management is pretty much under control with non opiates. Everything seems to be on course until about three days into recovery when fever strikes and a respiratory issue develops. More medications, more breathing exercises and a great emphasis on passing gas and having a bowel movement.

In between all of this many thoughts of life, future and past and how amazing technology and medicine is along with great care by really good people. But depression can easily set in when lying in a hospital bed or roaming halls looking at pictures of founding nuns and nursing class photos from the 1960's on. Especially when it's all punctuated by a wonderful container of jello - orange or red.

Pathology report is back. Tumor hadn't broken through wall of intestine and all of the removed lymph nodes show no signs of trouble. All good news but never out of the woods. On the fifth day, long anticipated bodily functions and release the following day.

At home on my beautiful Seneca, a new recovery process or a new phase begins. A desire for independence that the body can't deliver. Discomfort in many if not every position but the good news is that I've been upgraded to pudding. Ah the joys of life come back slowly.