To read Part I, click here.
I woke up gasping. It felt impossibly difficult to swallow air into my lungs. I was disoriented. I started crying. I tried to rub my eyes, but a pulse monitor on my finger and various tubes got in the way. I started asking for water as I wept. "Water. Can I have some water?"
I heard a male voice tell me to stop rubbing my eyes. It was my nurse. He said he was going to have to call an ophthalmologist if I didn't leave my eyes alone. I began asking for my parents. "Where are my parents?" My parents were called to my bed. The nurse offered me ice.
My bed was in a rectangular room with many other beds. All of the beds were situated around the perimeter of the space, and a work area for nurses was like an island in the center of the room. My bed was at the back left.
When my parents came in, they called my brother at home. He sent my mom a picture of Tobin on her iPad. When she held up the picture, I started crying again. Then my mom handed me the phone so I could talk to Tobin. Through tears, I said, "Hi, honey! It's me!" I started babbling to my parents about how I wanted Tobin "right here," and motioned towards a spot on my bed. I was in and out of sleep, as was my dad (possibly my mom, too, but I didn't notice). I had a pack of ice on my neck. My mom took a picture of me to post on Facebook.
After the initial offer to chew on ice, I was eventually given water, and then apple juice. The nurse told me that this was to make sure the anesthesia wasn't causing any nausea. At some point I was escorted to the restroom. I had to urinate into a pan so the amount could be measured. I walked back and forth from my bed in a gown that may or may not have been open on every side (cancer and major surgery certainly take away any sense of modesty or embarrassment).
Eventually I was transferred from one post-op room to another. I think they transported me in a wheelchair. I was then assigned a new nurse in this new room. This room had more privacy; instead of curtains on three sides, there was only one curtain. The anesthesia slowly wore off. My new nurse ordered me the "broth plate" (broth, Jell-o, applesauce, orange juice--I think) from the hospital cafeteria. I told her about my dietary restrictions, so she went out of her way to ensure that my plate was gluten-, dairy-, and soy-free.
My mom let me fiddle with her iPad. I went to the bathroom again without assistance. I read my library book. My parents eventually went back to their hotel to rest and get some food. I continued to read. A male nurse came in and asked what my book was about (hoarding), and we had a brief conversation. My surgeon came to visit me. I was jubilant to see him (he's become some kind of major hero in my mind). He told me that since I seemed to be recovering so well, I could eat solid food.
The nurse ordered my dinner plate, again noting to the chef my particular dietary restrictions. I ended up getting roasted chicken, green beans, and fingerling potatoes (it was just about as delicious-tasting to me as a meal could possibly be). My parents came back at some point either right before or during my meal.
I wore some kind of compression devices on my legs to prevent blood clots. They began to make my legs sore, so the nurse turned them off. Around 9PM, it was finally time for me to be transferred to the overnight room. They wheeled me through what felt like multiple buildings, until we reached my home for the night. I was given my own room with a sliding glass door and restroom. I was given a controller with buttons for the bed, light, and nurse.
After the switch, my parents left for the evening. I had a chance to wash up for the first time since before my surgery that morning. I discovered that I had yellow streaks running across my neck and cheek from the pre-operation cleaning (I thought this was some kind of iodine, but I don't actually know what they use to clean the skin). Every time I got up to go to the bathroom, I had to page the nurse so she could come in and unhook all the monitors connected to my body. That also meant re-attaching them every time as well!
I settled back into my bed. I stayed up for a while and read my library book, and I think the nurse may have brought more Jell-o and apple juice at various times. I was also given painkillers regularly. With every nurse switch, I was asked about my allergies to medications. Every. Single. Time.
I was given thyroid hormone for the first time that night, even though I'm normally supposed to take it in the morning. I mentioned this to my nurse, but she told me it was part of her orders. She and I also had a conversation about her friend who was recently diagnosed with cancer. The nurse told me I was an encouragement and inspiration--even though I really don't think I qualify for either of those titles!
I finally faded off to sleep, hearing the sounds of the nurses talking quietly at their long desk outside my room. I woke up around 7AM. One of the nurses came in to tell me that my doctor would be visiting soon. Shortly afterward, the team of residents who assisted with my surgery came to visit me. There were at least six of them. Only one spoke directly to me. They all had enormous smiles and looked so eager and excited. The resident asked me some questions, and then asked if I had any. I asked about when to take my next dose of thyroid hormone, when I could go back to the gym, and possibly when I could put cream on my scar (I can't remember if I had any other questions).
My surgeon eventually came to visit me as well. I re-asked the same questions I posed to the resident. Eventually the hospital began the discharge process. I can't remember if my mom and I talked on the phone or if we had planned the day before what time she and my dad would come to the hospital. While I was waiting for them to arrive, I had a chance to wash my face and brush my teeth again, and I changed into the clothes I had worn on the way to the hospital. I somehow managed to get my hair into a ponytail.
Unfortunately, the nurses had lost my paperwork, so my parents and I had to wait around in my room while the staff scrambled to get me out of there. I started to feel pain, so the nurse gave me more painkillers. They had to scan my wristband every time they gave me any kind of medicine.
I was finally officially released. My mom went to the pharmacy while my dad went to bring the car to the front of the hospital. The nurse wheeled me out of the building, and someone helped with getting my bags into my dad's car. My mom called to say the prescription wasn't ready yet, so my dad and I waited. Finally, the medicine was ready, so my dad slowly drove the car over to the entrance that led to the pharmacy, and we were off.
I don't remember much of the drive home, or even what I did once I was home. I do remember needing my dad to help me lay my head down (he had to hold my head up while I laid the rest of my body down because I had no use of my neck muscles). I also remember not being able to tilt my head up or down while sitting or standing. I had to put a pillow behind my back when I sat at the kitchen table; otherwise, I was in too much pain from having to overuse my head and neck while eating.
The rest of the day is not really in my memory. I don't know if this is from the anesthesia or painkillers, or simply because I was sleeping and the day was uneventful. Technically, this was the day after my thyroid was removed, so I guess it doesn't hold as much gravity for me.
I am grateful to all of the staff who accommodated my needs and offered me exceptional care. I felt like I was in capable hands during my entire time at the hospital, and I am glad that this day seems like such a distant memory. I am proud to be a cancer survivor, and the roles of the various medical personnel who made that reality possible will never be forgotten by me.
