First off, let me thank all my well wishers. I really appreciated all the comments. And thanks to Kelley who lives just up Georgia 400 in Alpharetta for her generous offer of help to a complete stranger. Thanks Kelley! Here are some hits for you.
Before my surgery on Tuesday, I had to stop by the doctor's office to sign some consent forms. This was a billable doctor's visit. To sign some freaking papers I had to pay a freaking copay! That's bullshit!
When I checked into pre-op, they gave Cindy a pager just like they do a Rio Bravo. That's so they could get her after the operation. Neat.
After a while they took us back to a staging room, where I stripped down and put on the backless hospital gown. I only came in running shorts, a t-shirt, and some shoes. They told me I could keep my running shorts on. We'll get to them later.
I then had to sign another shitload of consent forms. Then the nurse gave me a pen and had me write 'no' on my left hand and 'yes' on my right hand. Smart move.
They stuck me in the hand and started an IV drip. I then started asking Cindy all sorts of stupid questions. I like to drag her to the doctor with me 'cause she speaks medicalese and I don't. Also, since she deals with my HMO on a professional basis, she knows which buttons to push to get things done. When you're in my state of health, it's nice to know an RN.
Finally it was time to go. They put some "I really don't give a shit" stuff in my IV and Cindy said it must of been great since I immediately started babbling nonsense (And why is that different from how I normally am?). The last thing I remember was being moved from one gurney to another. At that time, the hard core stuff started kicking in.
The next thing I remember was waking up in the recovery room with my right hand in a cast. After letting me lie there for about 15 minutes, they took me to another recovery area where Cindy was waiting. I'll let her take over from yesterday's comments.
I'd like to add something to this story.It's the mystery of the missing pants. When I left Denny in preop, they gave me his shirt, glasses, shoes, and wheelchair. They let him leave his shorts on for surgery. (Since there was no place they would let me leave the wheelchair ("we can't be responsible for an expensive piece of equipment, etc. etc.") I simply put his bag of clothes in it and took it with me . My husband met me at the hospital for dinner, and we pushed it through the cafeteria line, etc. looking like homeless people who had robbed a disabled person instead of a Kroger, thus having a wheelchair instead of a shopping cart to haul our wordly goods. ) Anyway, I digress. When I was notified by beeper that it was time to pick Denny up in recovery, he had a gown on , and a sheet over his lap, but no pants. He was also majorly messed up on meds.
The conversation went like this . "Denny, where are your pants? I can't take you home without pants"" I've got my pants on"
"No, you don't"
Denny now whips back the sheet "OH, NO,I DON'T!!"
I get the medical assistant. "Where are his pants?"
"M'am, we give the family members the patient's clothes"
"Well, I've got a shirt and shoes, but no pants. They were on him when I left him"
"HMMM!
She now leaves for the nurses' station.
"Mr Wilson doesn't have any pants"Another voice says "Uh-oh, we discharged another Wilson about an hour ago--I wonder..."
My heart now sinks, while Denny is back to humming a happy tune in his drug induced stupor. (They were great drugs!...GOC
The MA comes back, "Well, I'll look... I'll do my best"
Denny, now slightly more awake, but still goofy, says, "If they had told me they keep your pants, I'd have brought an extra pair"
Anyway, after about half an hour , during which I contemplate how to take a man without pants out of a hosptital without someone being arrested for indecent exposure, she comes back triumphantly waving his shorts, saying she'd found them under a stretcher in the operating room.
Glad as I was to get them back, I never questioned just exactly what DID go on in that O.R. Hmmmm...
Don't ask me. I was out of it.
They did operate on the proper hand.
That was a good thing.
So were the drugs.
Posted by denny at June 5, 2003 12:20 PM