I had intended to write this post right when I got home from the hospital, but it didn't seem essential during those first few hours of recovery. Plus, some recollection of that day is nothing more than vague, morphine-induced memory.
I woke up at 3:30AM. I had only gotten about three hours of sleep, but I figured I'd be anesthetized in not too many hours, so a lack of sleep didn't bother me. I was finishing packing, cleaning my room, getting Tobin's food and medicine situated so my brother could take care of him. My parents and I left my house at 4:30AM. My dad missed the turn for the freeway. I was mad. The madness mostly came from equal parts exhaustion and stress. I'm actually glad my surgery was scheduled for so early, because I was so tired and it was so dark outside that I didn't have the clarity of mind at that point to really absorb what was going on.
We called my sister, per her request, when we were about halfway to the hospital. She made weird cackling noises. She made me laugh. It was hard to hear her while we were driving, so I said goodbye. We arrived at the hospital shortly after 5:30AM. My dad parked the car in the paid hospital lot. It was a little brighter outside, but the sun hadn't risen yet. I grabbed my bag and hustled to the information desk. There were two security guards there. Apparently they were on duty until the hospital officially opened to the public. They directed me down the atrium to the second door on the left. My parents caught up with me and we made our way to the registration room.
I signed in on a clipboard. We sat in leather waiting room chairs. The registration clerk came to get me. My mom and I followed her to her desk. She typed a lot of information on her computer, took my insurance card. Gave me a thick folder with a picture of a coastal cliff kissed by the sea. She put an identification bracelet on my left wrist. She walked me and my parents to the elevators and told us to go to the second floor and directly into the office on our right.
We arrived at the office. Another couple was sitting in the chairs there, waiting. My dad and I went to sit in some chairs across from the elevators. My mom waited outside the office. Another woman and her mother appeared on the elevators and made their way to the office. My mom told them we were all waiting. The woman asked what we were there for, and my mom told her I had cancer. The lady hugged my mom.
A nurse arrived at 6AM, wearing scrubs and a backpack. We saw a lot of that that morning. He checked in the couple and escorted them through a door on the back side of the office. My mom told me to come sit in the chairs inside the office. The nurse took my name, then escorted my parents and me into a pre-operation room. He told my dad he wasn't allowed to be in there yet. My dad went to the lounge to wait. The nurse laid a folded gown, some socks, and a plastic bag on the bed. He told me to undress completely, and leave the gown open in the back and tied at the neck. He also gave me a cup to pee in. I had volunteered to be part of a research study, so this part was my doing. The nurse told me to fill the cup before I changed. I obliged. Carried the cup back from the restroom to my little corner of the pre-op room. I didn't know what to do with the cup. I set it on a shelf. I changed. I laid down on the bed. The nurses came and put a blanket on me. They attached a tube to a slot in the blanket, and warm air blew in. I decided then that it would probably be the best part of the day.
My dad was invited back in at some point. I can't remember when. Several nurses came in and out. One of them took my pee cup. Eventually a nurse came to put in my IV. He was very good. It didn't hurt at all (and I didn't even have a bruise afterwards). He was having me open and close my fist, and then he tap-tap-tapped the veins on my hand. He found one he liked. Part of my agreement to participate in the research study involved giving my blood. He took it from my hand through the IV needle. It was weird.
Two anesthesiologists came in at different times. The first one, a man, asked me a lot of questions--the same questions almost every nurse came in and asked me, mostly about allergies to medications. He made me feel at ease. He was wearing some kind of athletic zip-up. The second one, a woman, came in wearing some kind of colorful surgical cap. I want to say it had cats, but that's me brain filling in false information. She asked me the same questions as the man, then told me it was time. My parents stood up to hug and kiss me goodbye. I started crying. She wheeled me away and told me she makes people cry. I told her it was my parents. Then she said something about putting me to sleep, and put anesthetic in the IV. We were wheeling through the hallways, out the pre-op room into one hallway, turned right into another hallway, turned right into the operation room. I remember the ceiling. It was white. I remember the room was big, and I remember thinking it looked nothing like what I see in Grey's Anatomy. I heard voices. I heard my doctor's voice. I felt relieved. And then I remember nothing.
To Be Continued
To Be Continued
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