Chapter 2 "Waking up is hard to do"
Hello Faithful readers and welcome to the next installment in my fuzzy recollections of August 19-30th.
Today I will transport you back to the most mysterious and hazy place of all...The Recovery Room. It almost has whispers of a horror movie title, and for a while it felt like one for me but we'll get there in a moment.
Being put under is a very weird thing, one minute you're there and the next your not, there is no "feeling sleepy" or slowly nodding off, it's just "hello doctor" and then "Konk!" you're out. I must admit that I was terrified that I'd be one of those cases where it looked like I was asleep but I wasn't and would be able to feel them slowly slicing away at me...I read about someone having their eye removed that way. Probably an urban myth... Anyway, I felt nothing and remember nothing past my epidural and my tasty cocktail of sedatives. The next thing I knew, it was close to 18 hours later and I was waking up in the dreaded Recovery Room. Now none of us are totally sure what happened in the 18 hours before this point. My operation was supposed to take 8-10 hours. At about 4pm (which is about 10 hours) the surgeons came out to see my dad and said that the liver re-sectioning had gone well and they were just sewing me up and that I would be moved to recovery where I'd be waking up in a few hours. However, between 4pm and midnight, the hospital kinda "lost" me. Nobody could tell my dad where I was and finally in a fit of panic my dad stopped some random doctors coming out of the O.R section of the hospital and begged them to try to find me. They made some calls and the doctors said that I was still in surgery...now this is like 5 hours after the surgeon told him they were just sewing me up. Even now we're not too sure if I was actually still in the O.R or if the doctors confused my name with mom's or what happened but needless to say, my dad then proceeded to have a panic attack because it sounded as if something must have gone wrong, why else would it take them 5 hours to sew me shut...I mean yes, my abs are rock solid but still :)
Apparently while all this was happening I was somewhere in the hospital getting something done to me which will forever remain a mystery. I later found out from my surgeon that I have a very delicate liver and therefore ran into several problems with bleeding etc. when trying to separate the lobes so I guess this may account for some of the lost time...I have no idea.
Anyway, 18 hours later there I am waking up in the dreaded Recovery Room. They took my glasses away for surgery and sent them directly to my post recovery room so I guess you could say that I woke up in a fairly blurry state both literally and figuratively. Unfortunately I also woke up in agonizing, excruciating, mind blowing pain. If there is one good thing about pain it's that you never really remember what it felt like after the fact. You know it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch but you don't really remember what the son-of-a-bitch actually felt like. I guess it's the body's way of dealing with it. Whatever the case, I woke up screaming and was quickly informed that my epidural did not work. Um HELLO!! that's why they put it in while you're conscious, so that they can check. oh well, too late now! I also was experiencing unbearable pain in my right shoulder, I woke up on my left side and when they tried to roll me over I was having nothing of it. I feel bad for the other patients in the recovery room who had to hear me scream but what's a good post-op rise and shine without a little blood curdling drama right? They think that the shoulder pain had something to do with me having been lying on it for 18hours on the operating table...no idea but it was definitely not cooperating.
If I had to have a tag phrase for this whole experience from the 19th until present it would be "when it rains it pours" and we were about to have our first taste a mere 18 hours after we started. After having woken up epidurally challenged and in excruciating pain, my surgeon popped by just to let me know that mom's half of the surgery didn't work...
"I'm glad you are awake and doing well Joe, oh by the way your mom isn't doing well and we couldn't finish the surgery because her insides are a disaster and nothing fits and it's a huge mess so we taped up her open wound, put her in ICU and are going back in tomorrow on a last ditch effort to try to keep her alive...oh and I think you're body has been through enough today so I've instructed the doctors not to insert another epidural...have a nice night!"
AWESOME NEWS!!
That's exactly what one wants to hear while lying in agony on a metal table after having 1.5 vital organs removed. So I did the only thing I could which was scream. Because my entire abdominal musclelature had been torn apart crying was impossible so I guess I did the only thing I could, I just screamed. I then told the nurses not to let my family in under any circumstances because I did not need them seeing me in that particular state. Then the doctor left. Luckily for me, the anesthesiologist was still there and as soon as the surgeon left he told me that there was no way he was going to leave me there in that state and told me to roll over and hold still. At that point I passed out, probably from the pain but when I woke up my new shiny epidural was in and I had been so pumped full of happy juice that I was on cloud nine. I quickly told the nurses that I would like to see my family now.
In the meantime, my dad, sister and my dad's wife Debra, after having been told that I refused to see them were outside the recovery room (by this time it was apparently 1am) feeling dejected and getting ready to go back to the hotel down the street. Luckily one of the nurses ran out and found them and brought them in. I remember very little of our time together but apparently I was quite hilarious and would have put this kid to shame:
Annoyingly enough, my sister disregarded my earlier instructions (clearly communicated before we went into surgery) to video me in all my stoned glory because she felt bad. Ugh... alas my chance at youtube fame and fortune was unfairly ripped from my grasp by familial compassion. Aren't sisters supposed to revel in making their siblings look like idiots?
Oh well, I apparently spent the next 30 minutes, giggling and repeating my dad and sister's names before being wheeled off to the "Step Down Unit" - once again a very good title for a movie, this one would of course be a dance film about a struggling dancer who is a nurse by day, dance battler by night. Take note people...hmmmm maybe I should copyright that.
And so my first day as a live organ donator ended. Apparently I spent 5 days in the Dance Movie Unit but I only remember a couple of things. We'll save it for next post.
Cheers from a much less hazzy place
J
Today I will transport you back to the most mysterious and hazy place of all...The Recovery Room. It almost has whispers of a horror movie title, and for a while it felt like one for me but we'll get there in a moment.
Being put under is a very weird thing, one minute you're there and the next your not, there is no "feeling sleepy" or slowly nodding off, it's just "hello doctor" and then "Konk!" you're out. I must admit that I was terrified that I'd be one of those cases where it looked like I was asleep but I wasn't and would be able to feel them slowly slicing away at me...I read about someone having their eye removed that way. Probably an urban myth... Anyway, I felt nothing and remember nothing past my epidural and my tasty cocktail of sedatives. The next thing I knew, it was close to 18 hours later and I was waking up in the dreaded Recovery Room. Now none of us are totally sure what happened in the 18 hours before this point. My operation was supposed to take 8-10 hours. At about 4pm (which is about 10 hours) the surgeons came out to see my dad and said that the liver re-sectioning had gone well and they were just sewing me up and that I would be moved to recovery where I'd be waking up in a few hours. However, between 4pm and midnight, the hospital kinda "lost" me. Nobody could tell my dad where I was and finally in a fit of panic my dad stopped some random doctors coming out of the O.R section of the hospital and begged them to try to find me. They made some calls and the doctors said that I was still in surgery...now this is like 5 hours after the surgeon told him they were just sewing me up. Even now we're not too sure if I was actually still in the O.R or if the doctors confused my name with mom's or what happened but needless to say, my dad then proceeded to have a panic attack because it sounded as if something must have gone wrong, why else would it take them 5 hours to sew me shut...I mean yes, my abs are rock solid but still :)
Apparently while all this was happening I was somewhere in the hospital getting something done to me which will forever remain a mystery. I later found out from my surgeon that I have a very delicate liver and therefore ran into several problems with bleeding etc. when trying to separate the lobes so I guess this may account for some of the lost time...I have no idea.
Anyway, 18 hours later there I am waking up in the dreaded Recovery Room. They took my glasses away for surgery and sent them directly to my post recovery room so I guess you could say that I woke up in a fairly blurry state both literally and figuratively. Unfortunately I also woke up in agonizing, excruciating, mind blowing pain. If there is one good thing about pain it's that you never really remember what it felt like after the fact. You know it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch but you don't really remember what the son-of-a-bitch actually felt like. I guess it's the body's way of dealing with it. Whatever the case, I woke up screaming and was quickly informed that my epidural did not work. Um HELLO!! that's why they put it in while you're conscious, so that they can check. oh well, too late now! I also was experiencing unbearable pain in my right shoulder, I woke up on my left side and when they tried to roll me over I was having nothing of it. I feel bad for the other patients in the recovery room who had to hear me scream but what's a good post-op rise and shine without a little blood curdling drama right? They think that the shoulder pain had something to do with me having been lying on it for 18hours on the operating table...no idea but it was definitely not cooperating.
If I had to have a tag phrase for this whole experience from the 19th until present it would be "when it rains it pours" and we were about to have our first taste a mere 18 hours after we started. After having woken up epidurally challenged and in excruciating pain, my surgeon popped by just to let me know that mom's half of the surgery didn't work...
"I'm glad you are awake and doing well Joe, oh by the way your mom isn't doing well and we couldn't finish the surgery because her insides are a disaster and nothing fits and it's a huge mess so we taped up her open wound, put her in ICU and are going back in tomorrow on a last ditch effort to try to keep her alive...oh and I think you're body has been through enough today so I've instructed the doctors not to insert another epidural...have a nice night!"
AWESOME NEWS!!
That's exactly what one wants to hear while lying in agony on a metal table after having 1.5 vital organs removed. So I did the only thing I could which was scream. Because my entire abdominal musclelature had been torn apart crying was impossible so I guess I did the only thing I could, I just screamed. I then told the nurses not to let my family in under any circumstances because I did not need them seeing me in that particular state. Then the doctor left. Luckily for me, the anesthesiologist was still there and as soon as the surgeon left he told me that there was no way he was going to leave me there in that state and told me to roll over and hold still. At that point I passed out, probably from the pain but when I woke up my new shiny epidural was in and I had been so pumped full of happy juice that I was on cloud nine. I quickly told the nurses that I would like to see my family now.
In the meantime, my dad, sister and my dad's wife Debra, after having been told that I refused to see them were outside the recovery room (by this time it was apparently 1am) feeling dejected and getting ready to go back to the hotel down the street. Luckily one of the nurses ran out and found them and brought them in. I remember very little of our time together but apparently I was quite hilarious and would have put this kid to shame:
Annoyingly enough, my sister disregarded my earlier instructions (clearly communicated before we went into surgery) to video me in all my stoned glory because she felt bad. Ugh... alas my chance at youtube fame and fortune was unfairly ripped from my grasp by familial compassion. Aren't sisters supposed to revel in making their siblings look like idiots?
Oh well, I apparently spent the next 30 minutes, giggling and repeating my dad and sister's names before being wheeled off to the "Step Down Unit" - once again a very good title for a movie, this one would of course be a dance film about a struggling dancer who is a nurse by day, dance battler by night. Take note people...hmmmm maybe I should copyright that.
And so my first day as a live organ donator ended. Apparently I spent 5 days in the Dance Movie Unit but I only remember a couple of things. We'll save it for next post.
Cheers from a much less hazzy place
J
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