Okay, after the recovery room, they wheeled me into a regular room. I barely remember that. I remember the nurse was like an Angel. She came in to give me drugs but they wanted me to drink liquid drugs instead of shooting me up. I tried not to take it. It was funny because I could barely talk. When she finally got me paper and pen and figured out what I wanted. She laughed saying usually people are asking for more drugs and I was trying to get them to give me ibuprofen instead of the prescription. She did tell me though that at that time I still had meds in me and the pain hadn’t hit yet. She explained me that you need to take pain meds before you are in pain so they can work at a constant level not try to bring you back from horrible pain. I took what she wanted me to take and then she brought me the most amazing thing... Oxygen. If you get this surgery, make sure they give you oxygen after. It soothed and cooled my throat, which was about 3,000 degrees before the oxygen.
I wanted to sleep, that was it, sleep until I could go home to my baby. Sleep and recover in the hospital? Not in this one. I had the roommate from hell and there were no more rooms. This dear woman, I don’t know why she was in there but apparently she had been there a long time. My usual gentle self wanted to hold the pillow over her face by the time I left, just so she would shut-up. After I took my meds and got my oxygen tank, she got on the phone. She yelled at one of her children for about an hour. Whew, I thought, she’s done. No, she had more kids, called the next one, and yelled at that one too for about an hour too.
I asked the nurse to help me sleep. She game me headphones and I found a classical music station on the television and cranked that up into my ears. I could still hear her. Then I put the motor for the oxygen tank on my pillow, so I had that noise too. The only option they had was to put me in the hall and I wasn’t going into the hall, so I had to deal. At about midnight she was quiet. Yay, sleep. What the hell is that? Her TV, where are her earphones? Grrr. Okay, twelve more hours and I can go home.
Around one, she finally shut the television off and went to sleep, hallelujah. Sleep. Two hours later, she was screaming in pain. The nurses told her it wasn’t time for her medication yet and they couldn’t give her any. In and out the nurses went. She was screaming and crying. I felt bad for her then, well until the nurses left and she called someone else at 3 am on the cell phone...
There was no hope for me sleeping, I just had to bide my time so I could get home and finally sleep. I watched some television programs and nodded off when I could. My parents finally got there at eight a.m. and my mother, champion advocate started rallying for me to go home. You had to eat to get out of the hospital. I checked the menu to see what I thought a person who just had their throat slip should it, and there I saw it yogurt. Cold, smooth and had protein. Swallowing hurt so bad I didn’t want to swallow any extra times, so every swallow had to count. I ate that yogurt so I could go home. My mom did a good job doctor wrangling and although it took until 12:30, I finally got to go home and my parents headed out for their eight hour ride home. And I slept.. Well until my daughter got home from school a couple of hours later. She was so good though, I paid the neighbor boy who is older, and she has known all her life, to play with her. So I was able to lay in bed and rest. His Grammy brought me a case of yogurt, what a smart lady. That was what I ate for a week, yogurt, and ice water. And since I didn’t have a metabolism, I didn’t even lose a pound. Bonus. Not.
My friend told me that when the renovations are done at our hospital, there will only be private rooms and other people won’t have to suffer with the roommate from hell as I did. So if you get anything out of this. Stock up on yogurt before you go into the hospital, and when you get to your room ask them if you can have an oxygen tank.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
My Experience – First Installment
If you are having a total thyroidectomy, removal of your thyroid, I wanted to give some encouragement. It is kind of scary because it is surgery with anesthesia and all. I was lucky to have a friend who is a breast cancer surgeon, whose partner actually did my thyroidectomy upon her recommendation. She also was able to take care of choosing the anesthesiologist, because they asked me I had no idea deferring those decisions to her. In that way I was totally blessed that this woman is in my life. And her different mindset was comforting. She is in surgery all of the time, while I (like most of you I assume), are not. Thank goodness. To her surgical mind, this surgery I needed was no big deal, to me it was the scariest thing ever. She said it’s an in and out surgery, no big deal. In my mind for the next three weeks waiting for surgery, I repeated that over and over in my head, “in and out, no big deal.” It comforted me.
Like other surgeries, you can’t eat or drink past midnight. My surgery was scheduled for 11:00 and they didn’t end up taking me until 2:00. The waiting throughout this entire 5-month ordeal to get to this point and then the waiting that day was the more horrific part. Our minds create terrible scenarios and we must rein them in (at least mine did). On the day of surgery, I was able to bring my daughter to her school for the first day of school, which was nice I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I had been starting my own brand new teaching career for the first time on that day. That was nice, I kept thinking of her in my head all day and what a big first grader she is. I also spent time worrying if the surgeon had lunch, maybe I asked them to tell him that he should have a little nap after his last surgery so he’d be fresh for mine. I know, I know...
When they came to get me for surgery they gave me whatever it was and I said bye to my mom, I had a picture of my daughter that they let me keep in a plastic bag in my bed and I was holding that and I was out before I hit the doorway of the room. The next thing I knew I was in the most horrific pain I had ever been in and there were bright lights blinding me. I started moving around and trying to talk, they told me not to and gave me something. I woke up again, the surgeon was looking at me with his bushy eyebrows and little blue cap on, and I signed thank you to him. I was, at that point, quickly remembering where I was and thankful to have woken up. Now if you know the sign for thank you it is a hand from the chin and of course, you mouth the word at the same time. At that point, my mind always being my best buddy, I had to hope that he knew I said thank you and not the sign where you brush your fingers under your chin for an F you. I never asked him, I hope he knew. Wouldn’t that be crazy if I did the wrong sign or he took it wrong, my throat hurt so badly, it was really a toss up.
I heard him talking to somewhere in the ether, saying she had a very well behaved little girl who would like to see that her mother is okay and could she come in for a moment. I fell asleep again and awakened to my mother’s voice, and felt a little hand touch mine, and it was her, my reason for everything. I tried to talk to her but I knew after a moment that I wasn’t making any sounds that were actually words. Thank goodness, we sign a bit to each other. This is lucky so I was able to tell her I loved her and to be a good girl for Grammy and Grandpa. I could only blow her kisses; I was not moving my neck at that point. My mother told me it was already 7:00 at night and they had to take her home to bed. I couldn’t believe it was 7:00; apparently, the side of my thyroid with Hashimoto’s disease was so huge that he had a difficult time getting it out. He had to remove a parathyroid, and saw another one that looked sketchy, so he left a blue stitch in it, so if I ever had trouble the next surgeon would know which one. Odd. I equate it to leaving a flag on the moon, he was marking his territory, I think.
I had to spend one night in the hospital, I’ll tell you about that next post.
I said this would be encouraging, so if it doesn’t sound it, well, I’m here to write it and that is encouraging in itself!
Like other surgeries, you can’t eat or drink past midnight. My surgery was scheduled for 11:00 and they didn’t end up taking me until 2:00. The waiting throughout this entire 5-month ordeal to get to this point and then the waiting that day was the more horrific part. Our minds create terrible scenarios and we must rein them in (at least mine did). On the day of surgery, I was able to bring my daughter to her school for the first day of school, which was nice I wouldn’t have been able to do that if I had been starting my own brand new teaching career for the first time on that day. That was nice, I kept thinking of her in my head all day and what a big first grader she is. I also spent time worrying if the surgeon had lunch, maybe I asked them to tell him that he should have a little nap after his last surgery so he’d be fresh for mine. I know, I know...
When they came to get me for surgery they gave me whatever it was and I said bye to my mom, I had a picture of my daughter that they let me keep in a plastic bag in my bed and I was holding that and I was out before I hit the doorway of the room. The next thing I knew I was in the most horrific pain I had ever been in and there were bright lights blinding me. I started moving around and trying to talk, they told me not to and gave me something. I woke up again, the surgeon was looking at me with his bushy eyebrows and little blue cap on, and I signed thank you to him. I was, at that point, quickly remembering where I was and thankful to have woken up. Now if you know the sign for thank you it is a hand from the chin and of course, you mouth the word at the same time. At that point, my mind always being my best buddy, I had to hope that he knew I said thank you and not the sign where you brush your fingers under your chin for an F you. I never asked him, I hope he knew. Wouldn’t that be crazy if I did the wrong sign or he took it wrong, my throat hurt so badly, it was really a toss up.
I heard him talking to somewhere in the ether, saying she had a very well behaved little girl who would like to see that her mother is okay and could she come in for a moment. I fell asleep again and awakened to my mother’s voice, and felt a little hand touch mine, and it was her, my reason for everything. I tried to talk to her but I knew after a moment that I wasn’t making any sounds that were actually words. Thank goodness, we sign a bit to each other. This is lucky so I was able to tell her I loved her and to be a good girl for Grammy and Grandpa. I could only blow her kisses; I was not moving my neck at that point. My mother told me it was already 7:00 at night and they had to take her home to bed. I couldn’t believe it was 7:00; apparently, the side of my thyroid with Hashimoto’s disease was so huge that he had a difficult time getting it out. He had to remove a parathyroid, and saw another one that looked sketchy, so he left a blue stitch in it, so if I ever had trouble the next surgeon would know which one. Odd. I equate it to leaving a flag on the moon, he was marking his territory, I think.
I had to spend one night in the hospital, I’ll tell you about that next post.
I said this would be encouraging, so if it doesn’t sound it, well, I’m here to write it and that is encouraging in itself!
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