Under the Knife, Part 3

It was Wednesday, the day of my surgery. I woke up hungry.  All that eating the day before must have expanded my stomach.  I hadn't had anything to eat since midnight.  But I was going to cook my sister- in-law some beignets.

I had made the batter the night before.  As my stomach growled, the doughnuts crackled in the hot grease.  They came out nicely browned and enlarged like puffer fish.  I was grateful to Jona and her family for hosting me.  I always enjoy feeding people.  I try to put my love and care into the food with my hands and hope that my guests feel it when they bite and chew and swallow.  As they smiled and laughed eating the doughnuts, my hunger dissipated.

My niece, Lindsay, enjoying a beignet

Jona drove me to the hospital.  I had to be there by 7 am, even though my surgery wasn't scheduled until 9:45 am.  She dropped me off and headed back to Vancouver for work.  As I walked into the lobby, I suddenly felt completely alone.

The friendly OHSU staff told me to wait in the lobby to be admitted.  I broke out the ipad and distracted myself on Facebook in front of the fireplace.  The flames comforted me as I'm sure they had done for many others.  And as I looked at Facebook, I read my friends posting their well wishes for me for my upcoming surgery, giving me more courage as the minutes ticked onward

After being admitted, I left for the surgical wing.  They led me to a bay with a bed and a curtain and a nice view of the hills.  I changed into my gown and waited while they took my vitals.  They gave me a little baggie for my valuables and I put my wallet and wedding ring there for safekeeping.  I clung to my cellphone and ipad.  They were my lifelines to my family and friends, my support system.  Jessica called me.  The voice of Celia, Ferguson, and her were a balm.  I checked Facebook obsessively, right until they wheeled me away.  The love of my friends and family expressed online was a true comfort.  Amazingly, the cold, dead internet had brought me the loving support I needed right when I needed it, from all parts of the world.

before they wheeled me off to surgery

I had tremendous care from the moment I set foot in the hospital.  The warmth and professionalism of the OHSU staff made the whole experience seamless and as comforting as possible.  I enjoyed getting to know the staff personally, and talked with my pre-op nurse, Bryan (now Facebook friend) about rearing kids and chickens, skiing, and outdoor adventures.  His willingness to connect with me on a personal level made those pre-surgical moments a little less anxious.

Bryan, my pre-op nurse

In the operating ward, I met a series of friendly and professional specialists, including a Belgian anesthetist who explained the beauty of Belgian beer and a nurse in a camo surgical cap who showed me his trophy mule deer and elk on his smart phone.  An earnest young intern questioned me about my refusal of the nerve block.  After some spirited debate, we agreed that I would have a temporary nerve block in my arm, which they would inject into me with a needle.  It would work through the surgery and then about 12 hours after the operation.  I was fascinated as they showed me my veins and nerves on the ultrasound screen.  When the needle entered screen, having punctured my skin and moving towards the nerve, I had to stop watching.

Again, the friendliness of the staff helped keep my fears at bay.  But as they wheeled me into the naked fluorescent light of the operating room, I was suddenly aware of how alone I was.  They moved me to the operating table and I felt the cold steel against my flesh.  Then they started strapping me down to the table so I wouldn't move during the procedure.  Finally they brought the mask down to my face.  I asked them if I would be out soon.  When they said yes, I started praying frantically. Before I knew it I was unconscious.

I woke up in the post-op bay with a raging hunger and an intense fogginess in my brain.  My arm hurt some, but it was mostly numb from the nerve block.  I was able to call my wife, mom, and sister pretty soon, and let them know that it all went ok.  I remember fumbling for the arnica pills my sister had recommended.  When I asked the nurse to give me five pills, the nurse anesthetist said I only needed one. She was a homeopath.

Soon I was moved to a holding room for short-term patients.  There I had another crew of friendly nurses.  Russell was my CNA and took great care of me.  We talked about youth mentoring and he related his experience working with troubled youth in the wilderness of Wyoming.  He recommended that our Bigs play tennis with their Littles. He found tennis with youth to be very therapeutic.  I tried to recruit him as a Big Brother.

Russell, the CNA who helped me after surgery

The main nurse in charge of my unit was Charmaine.  She responded with friendliness to each time I barked out requests to her at her nurses' station.  I couldn't figure out how to reach the nurse call button so I resorted to asking for what I needed across the room.  We talked a lot about skiing.  She was learning to ski as an adult to spend time with her boyfriend who liked to ski.  We talked about adult learning styles and how hard it is to learn to ski when you are an adult. Both Charmaine and Russell were kind to let me photograph them with my ipad.

Charmaine, the nurse in charge of the
short-term recovery room

I passed the time posting on Facebook and eating what I could before I was to be picked up later that evening.  I got up and walked to the bathroom a few times and got a little less wobbly each time.  The meals were fabulous, full of locally produced food (Portlandia!).  I ordered lunch and then dinner.  The hamburger for lunch was a bit scratchy on the way down.  The breathing tube had left  some dry soreness after they removed it.  But I ate with gusto anyway.  For dinner, I had fresh salmon and a very nice Northwest salad.  It was the best hospital food I've ever had.

fresh salmon, cheese plate, Northwest salad

At around 6, Jona arrived to take me back to her home.  I was pretty solid on my feet by that time and gingerly got into the minivan for the trip home.  I spent the next three days convalescing in their loving home (including a few trips to Portland to do phyiscal therapy, see friends, and eat!) and flew back to Juneau on Saturday.

Since being home, I'm grown stronger each day and have been diligently done my physical therapy exercises.  I got back to work the following Monday and can obviously type.  The only exercise I can get is walking while my arm is in a sling for the next six weeks.  After that, I will need to do strengthening exercises for six more weeks, to retrain my muscles.  Six months after the surgery, I will be able to do a push up.

click here to see a picture of my surgical wound

I know it will be a long road to recovery, but I know my friends and family will support me along the way.  It has been a blessing to receive the gift of food from friends each night since I returned home to Juneau.  As I am the family cook, feeding the family would have been a challenge these last few days.  I am grateful for all the care I received from the excellent staff at OHSU.  It was definitely the right choice to travel to Portland to get the best care I could.  The only thing I would have done differently was to make sure there was someone I loved holding my hand at the last minute.  I will never again be put to sleep without someone I love nearby.  It is simply too scary to go to sleep alone, not knowing if you will ever wake up.