Surgery went uneventfully, I think. Don’t remember much of it because of the dang Versed.
While walking back to the outpatient surgery room, I never thought what big business surgeries are for hospitals. The outpatient surgery floor had a long curving hallway of identical rooms, one after another, all with freshly-made beds, blankets folded neatly on top of the beds, and patient belonging bags draped over the blankets. Walking by the rooms, it was almost like having the same picture flashed in front of my face over and over again.
After I got settled in the room and started watching the news on the flat screen TV in the room, a rapid-fire succession of people came in and out of the room … nurse, nurse anesthetist, anesthesiologist, OR nurse, then surgeon. I could hear them going from room to room and could hear them repeating similar information with other patients. Most common question was whether my pain was being controlled. Thanks, Press Ganey.
I didn’t even have time to flip through the news stations before I was being wheeled off to the operating room. Traveling down the hall I could see little vignettes of other patients waiting for surgery through the doorways to the patient rooms. An older lady with a priest standing at the head of the bed talking to family. Little girl watching TV with her parents. An older businessman with reading glasses flipping through pages of the Wall Street Journal.
I felt a tug on my IV line. The nurse anesthetist was walking beside the bed and had a syringe that she was twisting onto my IV line.
“I’m just going to give you a little Versed.”
I felt the rush of cold IV fluid running up the veins in my arm, but was still wide awake as we waited in line for the doors of the OR to swing open.
I thought to myself “I wonder how cold the OR will be this time.”
Then I heard my youngest daughter’s voice.
“Wait a minute,” I thought, “she’s supposed to be in school.”
Someone was rubbing my hand.
I opened my eyes and my beautiful wife was sitting next to me with a smirk on her face. Apparently I was being an unconscious smart ass and don’t remember a bit of it.
I asked her several times what the surgeon said. She told me several times but I didn’t remember. I do remember her telling me that she was going to text it to me so she’d stop having to tell me.
The surgeon apparently told my wife that the hernia was fairly large and I apparently kept remarking that wasn’t the hernia.
The nurse asked me if I would rather have some water or some juice after surgery and I asked for a double shot of tequila.
I’m sure my wife couldn’t wait to get me out of there.
So I’m back home and relaxing. Groin is sore. Kids are feeding me their unwanted Valentine’s candy. Hope to be up jogging tomorrow.
Thanks to my excellent surgeon for his expertise and to the hospital staff for their prompt and courteous care … and for putting up with all of the other wisecracks that my wife probably didn’t tell me about.