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Who am I? - cimmy
Where am I? - My own little world
Age? - 36...and SINGLE....boys, see that, SINGLE.

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3/17/2005 - Tragicomedy

Well, I’ve lived to tell another tale…and is it just me, or do others tell tales like these?

Last week I started having pain in my kidneys. Generally this just means drink more water…have less red meat…general things that I’ve lived with all my life. Sunday around 8:30pm I wasn’t feeling too well, by 9:00 I was feeling pretty crappy and decided that I needed to go home and possibly to bed. By the time I walked the 5 feet to my house I was feeling bad enough that all I wanted was a hot bath. (Hot baths typically help me feel better because the moist heat gets to my kidneys and loosens them up a bit.) Anyway, took a bath, took a Vicodin and went to bed. Around midnight I was up again and went next door to my friends to tell them it was getting bad (read; you might have to take me to the hospital). Linda threw me in another bathtub and let me soak a while then I went to sleep on her couch.

I’ve felt a little like a pregnant woman with this. At 5:30 I had to wake the girls up to tell them “it’s time, it’s time” and the drill started. Laura got me ready, Linda got the car…we’re nothing if not efficient…and off we went. As a side note, if you need to go to the hospital, 5:30am is a pretty good time, not many people there.

Skipping ahead...turns out I have another 7mm stone clogging me up and I have to be admitted. The next day, surgery. Yippee…I never tire of this. *Sigh*

It’s the surgery that really has me writing today. How I get into these situations I’ll never know, or maybe everyone does and I just notice them more.

I don’t always like things sprung on me…I like just a little notice so that I can prepare. I’m not saying I can’t be spontaneous because I can. I guess when it comes to something fairly large I like warning, I like to have my head around a situation. I like knowing what's coming next. When they came to pick me up for surgery it seemed that everyone was just a little surprised. I hadn’t been prepped at all, no pre-anesthesia, nothing mentioned, that was the first problem. The guy that picked me up, Kevin, seemed bothered by everything, my IV pole, the paperwork, the nurse, you name it, that was the second problem. He bitched about EVERYTHING and that made me uncomfortable. Isn’t your blood pressure supposed to be normal when you go in for surgery, this guy did a brilliant job of raising mine!

At some point we met up with the anesthesiologist and her nurse and right off I was worried, they didn’t seem…well…competent. They and Kevin were arguing, apparently someone moved Kevin’s paperwork that he “always” has there at the desk and he was not at all happy about it. The nurse kept telling him to categorize the surgery as "general" (General? Does that mean they can do whatever they want?). The anesthesiologist kept poking at me and looking at my IV and trying to get Kevin to take me in the OR.

F I N A L L Y, we made it to the OR and I thought, just put me out and you go on bickering amongst yourselves. But noooooooo, this was the conversation I’m hearing…(and mind you, I’ve not been given drugs yet!)

N=Nurse, A= Anesthesiologist, K=Kevin, D=My Doctor

N: “Here, move onto this gurney and watch your head.”
Me: (to myself…isn’t that YOUR job?) Moves onto bed.
Me: (looking at item above head….a FOOT AND A HALF above my head) [rolls eyes]
A: Poking at very small IV in my hand
N: “Skooch down 3 inches”
Me: Moving at least 3 inches
N: “More”
Me: Moving
N: “MORE!”
Me: (again to myself) I’m GOING TO FALL OFF THE FREAKIN’ BED!!!
A: Still poking and studying IV
Me: Worriedly looking around room….
A: [to nurse] “This isn’t working”
A: “This is too small”
N: “Well, let’s try this…”
A: “Why isn’t this working?”
A: Clamps oxygen mask on my face…HARD.
N: “You’re standing on the IV.”

Now there are two surefire ways to freak me out really quick. One is to act incompetently when my life is in your hands and two is to slap and clamp a mask on my face with no warning. I’m claustrophobic and that’s just trouble right there.

Me: [flailing head trying to knock oxygen mask off] “Too tight” [eyes well up]
A: [to nurse] “She’s saying something.” [to me] “It’s just oxygen.”
Me: “Too much…too tight”
A: “Honey, just calm down. It’s fine.”
Me: “No, no, no…it’s not fine [tears streaming] it’s too tight.” Finally someone, I don’t know who, takes the oxygen mask off.
N: “It’s just oxygen, you need it, it’s okay.”
Me: “Where’s my doctor?”
N: “Everything is fine.”

Mask goes back on.

Me: “I want to see my doctor.”
A: “The IV is too small, it’s not working.”
Me: “Where’s my doctor?”
N: “What’s wrong?”
Me: “I want to talk to the doctor. Where’s the doctor.”
A: [pointing] “He’s right there.”
Me: “Bring him over.”
A: [sounding a little worried] “Why, what’s the matter.”
N: “She wants the doctor.”
A: “He's coming.”
N: “He’s coming.” Which as I recall sounded a little like he’s com-INK.

Mask comes off.

N: “Leaning in close, tell me, what’s wrong.”
Me: “No, I don’t want to talk to you, I want the doctor.”
A: “Tell us what’s wrong”
Me: [turns head away from them both]

At this point I hear someone get on the phone and call the doctors lounge to get the doctor and after some time he shows up. I think I sort of brought everything to a hault.

D: “What’s going on, what’s wrong?”
Me: “I don’t trust them, they talk like they don’t know what they’re doing.”
D: “Do you trust ME?”
Me: [thinking, NO NO NO NO, I don’t trust ANYONE ANYMORE!!! Thinking of the last episode] “Yes”
D: “Then let’s go.”

And that’s the last thing I remember.

When I woke up the IV had been moved and I have a couple really dark bruises. They tell me it’s from the IV and trying to find a vein, I’m not certain they aren’t fingerprints.

It’s hard to convey the immense amount of panic I felt in that OR or how afraid I was that I wouldn’t wake up or if I did what horrible disease I’d have this time.

I did make sure however, that my doctor knew I did not sign the release waiver for the blood infection this time around.

You get wiser with time.