Memories of Surgery Day

In less than 12 hours I went from looking like this to looking like this. Here's what I remember about it:
The morning started (as most appointments on this journey have) with a bunch of hanging out in a waiting room. Other patients came in later and went back sooner, but it didn’t bother me all that much because it just meant more time with my family. I can’t say I was in a big hurry to get started honestly. The extra time also gave us all a chance to see that even if my “next of kin” consisted of a group of 4 very important people, the nurses were only going to let one of them come back to the next stage with me. This is a choice I would have liked to be a little more prepared to make, but when it came right down to it, it wasn’t so very difficult. Thankfully I knew there would be no resentment no matter whom I chose.

When the time came, I went back into a pre-op area with Russell where began the unending litany of monitoring my vitals. This is also where I got the hospital gown and was introduced to a nifty new contraption: the hot air blanket—think blanket-shaped paper balloon hooked up to a hairdryer. I met my anesthesiologist (a friendly, practical lady who obviously had horse history), saw my surgeon one last time, and briefly met the circulating nurse. There was, once again, some lag time here so we managed to cycle the rest of my family back one at a time to give me one last good-luck wish. The anesthesiologist poked the first of many IV holes in me and started some relaxation medication before they wheeled me back. Max was the last family member I saw as I went through the doors to the OR.

In the hallway, I was awake just long enough to confirm my suspicions about the anesthesiologist’s horse background. I don’t know why it was such an important observation to me at the time, but it went a long way to helping me feel a little more comfortable knowing we had some kind of shared background. It was REALLY cold in the OR. I was fading fast after the second dose of relaxant, but vaguely recall meeting the Neuromonitoring specialist and the extremely apologetic nature of the nurse as she stuck a bunch of cold electrodes to my torso. I was unconscious before they stuck any more probes in me or hooked me up to the catheter—Thank Heavens! I remember nothing about the surgery.

Waking up was not as smooth a process. I was face-up when I woke up. I remember having full-body chills and shivers. They quickly put a bunch of baked blankets on top of me that seemed to calm things down a little bit. Then I was out for a little while again only coming to when I heard people trying to figure out which room to put me in. My finely tuned “communication error!!” alarms woke me right up. The plan beforehand was that my family would know which room I was assigned and they’d be there waiting for me when I rolled in. When no one was there, my anxiety level went way up. I tried to be patient, figuring someone would go get them quickly, but either my sense of time was off or none of the staff understood my request the first time. I had to throw a first class fit go get someone on staff to go find my people who were waiting and worried about me. This is a part of the process I wish there had been more amnesia drugs to erase.

Speaking of wishing for more amnesia drugs; I wish I could forget how upset my mom was when she saw me. Parents of scoliosis surgery patients really truly should find someplace else to be that first night. Mom wound up staying that night and trading off watching over me with Russell. Do I wish she hadn’t been there? Absolutely not. She did what she’s always done my whole life. Cared for me the best way she could and more than anything else in the world. Do I wish she didn’t have to go through that? Absolutely. I don’t recall all of what I needed from Mom and Russell, but I’m still very glad they were there that night. I just wish it hadn’t been so hard for them.