10 July 2007

After Autopsy Report

(From L-R: OR nurse, surgeon, anesthesiologist, and me on the table.)

(I want to thank all my well wishers over at The Empire for, like, you know, all the totally positive energy they sent my way.)

I got to the hospital about 0630 last Thursday for surgery to repair my umbilical hernia. I made my way back to Surgery and check in, a nurse takes me back and gets me changed into one of those patient gowns, booties and a hair net and escorts me back to the prep area.

The nurses back there reverify my ID and my reason for being there, start an IV and tell me that the surgeon is running late and will be there in a little while. The gas passer stops by to make sure I don't have any allergies and that I haven't had any problems with being knocked out in the past. Negative on both counts. I tell the doc that I'm a little nauseous because I had to skip breakfast and could I get something to settle my stomach. She says no prob and she'll hook me up with something to settle both my stomach and my nerves.
(Hell, I haven't been under the knife since my appendectomy in '73, so yeah I had a mild case of nerves. Kiss my ass.)

So, about 0930 (read: 1.5 hours late) they wheel me back to the OR and get me situated on the butcher block. The gas passer puts a mask over my face and tells me that he's gonna give me some O2, and that I need to take some deep breaths. I remember 4 breaths. Bastard slipped me a mickey.

Next thing I know, I'm waking up in Recovery with the expected sore throat and hoarse voice from being tubed. I spend the next hour and 20 minutes getting my head back together. Then they move me into a wheelchair and into another room with the most comfortable recliner I've ever planted my ass in. After a little while a nurse checks on me and asks how I'm feeling. I tell her that it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. She informs me that it's the morphine they gave me. (Thank you, sir. May I have some more??) She also informs me that I have to take a wizz before I can leave, so I start slamming Sprite.

About an hour later, I feel the urge to hit the head, so the nurse helps me wobble over there. As soon as I start to go with the flow, I realize that the trach wasn't the only tube I had inserted in me during surgery. I would have sworn I had the clap, it burned so bad. They neglected to mention that little parting gift. (And speaking of getting fucked in every orifice, the brick I pounded out Sunday evening convinced me that they poured some cement mix in my ass...)

So now I have met the requirements for discharge, and I figure that while I'm on my feet might as well get dressed and get the hell outta Dodge. While I'm changing, I discover that I went in with one hole in my abdomen and came out with seven. At least these are super glued closed. The nurse comes back with a wheelchair and the usual post-op "do this - don't do that" list and my post-op check up appointment, and (cue chorus of angels) my 'script for Vicodin.

The Ol' Lady picks me up at the door and we swing by Wally World to get my Pills Of The Gods filled. I'm still hopped up on morphine so I figure I'll go in and stroll around for a while and maybe stave off some stiffness later. Yeah, right. After about 15 minutes, the morphine starts to wear off so I hobble back out to the car.

We get to the house and I get in my First Class seat on Air Vicodin, where I spend most of the next three days except for trips to the head and to swap out DVDs. By Monday I've recovered enough to move to my bed where I can FINALLY lay on my side and catch some proper sleep, so I spend the better part of the next 24 hours doing exactly that. By today I'm to the point where I can get up without a great deal of pain, but once up I get reminded that I'm still sore and stiff.

So now you're pretty much up to date. I get to spend the rest of the week on restricted duty, the only places I get to go to are the bed and the head. Friday is my post-op check, and after that I figure it'll by light duty for a month, but I'll let ya know. For now, it's time for a Vicodin and a nap.

Catch ya later.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Glad to hear you survived-I've been checking this site religiously, waiting for an update. Hopefully you'll stay comfortably numb on the Vic.

10 July, 2007 23:09  
Blogger MOMinuteMan said...

Thanks Mo. Today is the first day that I have felt good enough to do a write up. It's been pretty much just TV, movies and naps 'til now.

10 July, 2007 23:52  
Blogger NZ_Nitrogen said...

Welcome back aboard the U.S.S. Pain and Deliverance, Cap'n. I'll bring 'er back up to Warp Two for our return departure to Looneyland.

11 July, 2007 11:17  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Pills of the gods™, damn right!

Oh, and did you get the Versed? That stuff is great right before you know someone is getting ready to cut you open...I always think "I'm feeling so good right now, that I don't care if you cut my head off..."

Right before the surgery is the fun part.

It's the recovery afterwards that's the painful part.

14 July, 2007 22:17  
Blogger MOMinuteMan said...

Lady H, thanks for stopping by. They gave me something to settle my stomach and nerves before taking me back to the O.R., but I don't know what it was.

Based on your description, I don't think it was Versed. It calmed me down some, but I would have noticed if someone was after my head.

After dude put the mask over my face and said to breathe deep, they could have cut both heads off and I wouldn't have noticed.

15 July, 2007 17:49  

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