My Outpatient Surgery Experience

My alarm went off early—6:00 am.—but I was already awake.  My anxiety surrounding my surgery plus the symptoms of a worn out gallbladder made for a night of little sleep.  I was ready to go in a short time.  Surgery is not something you dress up for—loose clothes and no breakfast. 

My husband drove me to the hospital and we walked into the main entrance at 7:15 a.m.  We were directed upstairs to the surgical waiting room.  Soon I was registered and led to my little room where I was issued one of those lovely hospital gowns with rear ventilation.

I met my nurse, Gail, and once again I was asked my name, DOB, and what I was there for.  (I’m glad that they want to be sure they have the right person!)  She asked me about my medications and when I last took them.  We discussed my medical history.  I learned that we are the same age and both originally from California.  Gail was very talkative and friendly which went a long way in calming my nerves.  (My husband had left by this time to go to his dental appointment; he was getting his permanent crown.)  Next she put in my IV and apologized because my vein was a bit elusive.  However, I can’t even find the needle mark today.  She also put compression socks on my feet and legs to prevent blood clots.

Other medical personnel came in to see me—all very friendly.  My surgeon walked in and assured me that I’d feel much better without my gallbladder.  His assistant came in later and introduced herself.  After a while I met my anesthesiologist.  She explained what I would experience, including the fact that they’d be inserting a tube down my throat.  I wouldn’t be awake for this but I might experience some scratchiness later.  (Yes, I did, so it was good to know.)  During this procession of medical people, Maggie, our church’s Minister of Congregational Care, came in.  We chatted throughout the medical stuff which was a great distraction.  Just before she left she prayed with me, a comfort.  Shortly after Maggie left my husband returned.  Soon the anesthesiologist assistant showed up and asked if I wanted something to relax me.  Yes!  He told my husband that this was the time for hugs and kisses, which I got.  The assistant injected something into my IV and I don’t remember anything after that.  My husband said that he followed me as they wheeled me out.  I seemed to be awake, even talking.  I wonder what I said?

The next thing I knew I was in the recovery room.  Through my fog I saw other people in beds, medical professionals scurrying about, and lots of equipment.  A nurse offered me ice chips which I gladly accepted.  I heard someone mention my name, saying I was ready to be moved.  A nurse came over and pulled off the sticky patches that hold the EKG leads.  Soon I was being wheeled back to my room. 

Once I returned to my room my nurse, Gail, offered me water, and then some crackers and jello.  I was lucky—I had no nausea so I was glad to put something into my stomach.  I was offered pain pills and I chose to take one.  My husband joined me in the room.  A little while later the anesthesiologist came to check on me and I told her I thought I needed that second pain pill.  Yes, she said she could see a furrow in my brow.  Soon the nurse returned with my pill.

While I relaxed in my adjustable hospital bed, my husband and I chatted.  The pills kicked in and I began to feel drowsy.  My nurse returned and said I could go home if I wanted.  Yes!  I was disconnected from my IV, the ice pack was removed, and I was given a little help getting back into my clothes.  Soon a wheelchair appeared and I was wheeled by a young volunteer to the front entrance where Bob met me with our air-conditioned car.

We arrived home about 2 p.m., ate some lunch, and then I headed to bed for a while.  My husband left to pick up my pain prescription plus salads for dinner and CHOCOLATE.  By late afternoon I had moved to the recliner in the living room—much more comfortable.  I tried to read a little and watched some TV while periodically using an ice pack.  It was a good day to be inside—our evening news stated that our high was 108°.  My husband answered a few phone calls; I talked to my pastor who was checking up on me.  Salads for dinner.  I took only one pain pill in the afternoon but was ready for two by evening.  I didn’t sleep well.  I used an extra pillow but it was hard to get comfortable and I got up about 4:45 a.m. to take a couple pain pills.

I am moving around better today but I can’t lean over—mostly I have been sitting in a reclining position.  I have not taken any pain pills, but I think I will after lunch and before a nap in the recliner.

I would not wish this on anybody, but I am doing better than I expected.  In fact, I do think I’ll be able to make it to my job interview tomorrow afternoon without pain meds—my husband will drive me.  I must say it helps to have a loving husband to wait on me.  And I should add that Boise is a wonderful place to live.  The medical staff at the hospital was professional, friendly, and caring which made my experience so much better—I have lived in places where this isn’t so.  My church family has been so supportive, both before and after with in-person expressions of concern, calls, cards, and Facebook messages.  There were so many caring comments on my Facebook page—it made me feel loved.  When I got home there was a gift bag hanging from our door from a friend.  Today flowers arrived from my parents and my sister and her family.  And, of course, my daughters have called multiple times.  All this support really helps.

The surgeon indicated that it will take at least 2 weeks for me to totally recover.  My post-op appointment is next week at which time they will remove the dressings from my four little holes made during the laparoscopic surgery.  I’ll be careful, adding things as I am able to do them.  I am taking it one day at a time. . .