Appendectomy!
Well, it happens to many people, and Thursday of last week heralded my turn. That's when I came down with the sharp stinging abdominal pains that signal the onset of Accute Appendicitis.
Admitted to hospital on Friday, I was held over night for observation and so an ultrasound could be carried out on Saturday morning.
My evening in the ER Ward at JBM was interesting. One older gentleman became disoriented in the middle of the night and tired to leave. When the nurses tried to persuade him to go back to bed, he said that he wanted to call the police because he was being kidnapped.
Another patient, Mary, an elderly woman of Eastern European origin kept removing her i.v. and wandering around. She was always smiles as she went trucking off, and I became so accustomed to this drill that I would flag down nurses that may not have noticed the escape in progress.
Don't get me wrong, this was all pretty entertaining, and it helped break up some of the time between naps and reading (I started reading Sourcery by Terry Pratchett on Friday, and finished it on Sunday).
I didn't see any of the excitement that the ER's on TV seem to encounter; even though one orderly said that Friday night had been a constant flow of ambulances, I think most of those cases ended up somewhere else.
My operation took place Saturday afternoon/evening. It was the first time I got to experience being wheeled into an O.R. and placed on a padded table wearing only a gown. You know the "swimming pool" effect on the penis? They should have one called the "O.R." effect. The room is chilly, I'm half naked and nervous; it practically crawled back inside me. Oh well, it's not like I'm out to impress anyone.
The anesthesiologist began administering the sedative that would put me out. I'm not sure what the entire process was, but it began with something being added to my i.v. "You will feel a slight stinging sensation in your arm," said the nurse. Indeed, it did begin as a slight stinging sensation, which grew into a greater stinging sensation which started to envelop my arm.
It's goes from fuzzy to black after that. I remember trying to say "I'm feeling woozy," and then I have a vague recolection of suffocating briefly; I think that was when they inserted the breathing tube down my throat.
Waking up from the general anesthetic was not the joyous happy buzz I remembered from having my wisdom teeth out. Nope. It was more like I think zombies would feel like when they wake up from the dead. I realized that I was alive, and that was nice, but then I though I would soon die from a terminally dry mouth.
Then the nurse in the recovery room gave me a popsicle that was the best popsicle I have ever eaten in my entire life, and surely rivaled the best in all of the universe. 45 seconds later it was gone, and my mouth was a black hole from which no moisture could escape.
From the recovery room I was moved to my semi-private accomodations, and spent the next 18 hours or so enjoying a slight morphine buzz, napping, reading and listening to my roomate moan in pain.
On Sunday I was discharged, and tearfully bid goodbye to the morphine; as a volunteer wheeled to the front door, I waved goodbye to Mary and the nurse chasing her down the hall. I didn't think I could have more respect for nurses, until this experience.
Did I mention that I miss morphine?
Admitted to hospital on Friday, I was held over night for observation and so an ultrasound could be carried out on Saturday morning.
My evening in the ER Ward at JBM was interesting. One older gentleman became disoriented in the middle of the night and tired to leave. When the nurses tried to persuade him to go back to bed, he said that he wanted to call the police because he was being kidnapped.
Another patient, Mary, an elderly woman of Eastern European origin kept removing her i.v. and wandering around. She was always smiles as she went trucking off, and I became so accustomed to this drill that I would flag down nurses that may not have noticed the escape in progress.
Don't get me wrong, this was all pretty entertaining, and it helped break up some of the time between naps and reading (I started reading Sourcery by Terry Pratchett on Friday, and finished it on Sunday).
I didn't see any of the excitement that the ER's on TV seem to encounter; even though one orderly said that Friday night had been a constant flow of ambulances, I think most of those cases ended up somewhere else.
My operation took place Saturday afternoon/evening. It was the first time I got to experience being wheeled into an O.R. and placed on a padded table wearing only a gown. You know the "swimming pool" effect on the penis? They should have one called the "O.R." effect. The room is chilly, I'm half naked and nervous; it practically crawled back inside me. Oh well, it's not like I'm out to impress anyone.
The anesthesiologist began administering the sedative that would put me out. I'm not sure what the entire process was, but it began with something being added to my i.v. "You will feel a slight stinging sensation in your arm," said the nurse. Indeed, it did begin as a slight stinging sensation, which grew into a greater stinging sensation which started to envelop my arm.
It's goes from fuzzy to black after that. I remember trying to say "I'm feeling woozy," and then I have a vague recolection of suffocating briefly; I think that was when they inserted the breathing tube down my throat.
Waking up from the general anesthetic was not the joyous happy buzz I remembered from having my wisdom teeth out. Nope. It was more like I think zombies would feel like when they wake up from the dead. I realized that I was alive, and that was nice, but then I though I would soon die from a terminally dry mouth.
Then the nurse in the recovery room gave me a popsicle that was the best popsicle I have ever eaten in my entire life, and surely rivaled the best in all of the universe. 45 seconds later it was gone, and my mouth was a black hole from which no moisture could escape.
From the recovery room I was moved to my semi-private accomodations, and spent the next 18 hours or so enjoying a slight morphine buzz, napping, reading and listening to my roomate moan in pain.
On Sunday I was discharged, and tearfully bid goodbye to the morphine; as a volunteer wheeled to the front door, I waved goodbye to Mary and the nurse chasing her down the hall. I didn't think I could have more respect for nurses, until this experience.
Did I mention that I miss morphine?
posted by Robert at 5:51 PM
4 Comments:
Is Appendicitis funny? Heck, I almost busted a gut...
So, you didn't have one of those anesthetized but fully conscious experiences, then? That's probably good.
How big is the scar? I hear they're a lot smaller now than they used to be.
Is this entire comment going to be two-sentence paragraphs consisting of a question followed by a statement? Yes.
eaksclh
The really funny/painful thing is that I think I now know the origin of the phrase "I only hurts when I laugh."
The "anesthetized but fully conscious" experience was one of the thoughts that had me so nervous before I went down. Might have made for a more interesting blog entry though.
The scar is only about 3-4" long... not very big.
Shhh! I've been telling girls that 3-4 inches is huge!
fmtbuoik
Well it is... if you're talking width.
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