Awareness returns as the anaesthesia wears off. I had just finished my first major surgery, some three and a half hours of it. I was conscious of voices around me. I was aware of other more pressing needs however.
"I have to pee". Those were my first words I said as I was coming out of the anaesthetic. "I have to pee", I kept repeating. Laughter, from my family and the staff. I heard a nurse chuckling that "All the guys say that!"
And I was cold, I think I communicated that sentiment for shortly afterwards there was a warm blanket over me, and I slept some more.
Woke up in room 622A (the one closest to the doorway) Hooked up to an IV pole with my epidural pump, my catheter and odd plastic bags of clear liquids. For the first few days you cannot drink, you cannot eat. You've just had a section of your colon cut out! I could suck on ice chips though. I believe I was even able to get my trusty little netbook online, although I was not exactly coherent. I even had to exercise: move my legs, rotate the ankles, stretch and point my toes and if could, COUGH. The object of this was to prevent blood clots from forming, and to prevent pneumonia from affecting the lungs. Later I would be dressed in 'compression stockings', and would wear them for the next several days. I was a fashion statement. But the big event that first day after surgery was being able to sit in a chair! One cannot rest in a hospital, one must get off one's butt and take an active role in their own recovery. First step is to get out of bed, and sit in a chair. The nurses were hoping for 15 minutes. I did for 3 hours. I was pleased.
That was the Friday, the day after my surgery. Saturday would be the day I tried to walk.
Surgery techniques evolve, in the old days sutures were used to close wounds and cuts. Although still used I suppose, my incision was stapled. Little metal staples that would not look out of place at a hardware store were firmly embedded in my belly, over which 17 miles of gauze and tape were affixed. The abdominal muscles, were cut after all. Abdominal muscles are also used in the act of getting up, moving, walking...
Walking was the goal for that Saturday. With the help of the fabulous nurses (and they are all that and more), I walked down the short distance from my room to the Nursing Station. I did it twice more, and was exhausted, but pleased. Later after all my visitors had left I would walk some more. I was determined to Get Better Fast. Plus I was hungry. I still hadn't eaten, still couldn't drink water, but I could now have a popsicle. Orange popsicles, are, and always will be my favourite!
More walking on Sunday, I was getting good at this. I was now able to put on my socks and booties by myself. I could disconnect the A/C cord for the IV and manoeuvre my squeaky IV pole around the various obstacles on the floor. (Patients, beds, nurses, the occasional bewildered visitor). After racing around like a crazed rodent (and the IV wheels sounding like the squeaky wheel of a hamster cage) it was gently suggested to me that I could go off-floor! While not true freedom, I had a degree of independence that allowed me to cruise the less-crowed and quieter hospital floors. (Administration is perfect, nothing ever happens there). At this point it should be noted that my attire consisted of two johnny shirts to preserve my modesty and not scare anyone, some socks and hospital booties. I was dragging the IV pole with my catheter bag and the epidural pump. And I was blithely walking around the corridors of a large, public institution in this fashion as if it was the most natural thing to do. I would not suggest trying this at any public shopping mall however.
That Sunday night my increasing optimism came crashing down to earth. The epidural was removed from me. Remember all that walking? Remember the staples in my belly? Remember the surgery? All that was brought home to me front and centre once the epidural wore off. I was in pain, but still not Kidney Stone pain. I remember being awake until after 3am, asking the nurse for a popsicle, it seemed to ease the fire in my belly, and I slept finally. The next morning I felt great, no more pain in my belly! I was recovering.
I must have recovered enough to warrant a reward, so Monday I was able to have real fluids. Juice! Water. And more popsicles. But the real treat was lunch. I ate food for the first time in six days. Chicken soup, jello, more juice! I cried I was so happy to eat.
There remained just some minor things to accomplish, like passing gas and bowel movements. To avoid the sensitive types who may be reading, suffice to say that I achieved these milestones and was ready to move on the next phase: solid food. If I could keep solid food down, I could go home.
Skip right to Wednesday, my last day to stay in room 622A. Lunch was delivered, but disappointingly, it was a 'full fluids', not a 'soft food' lunch. I ate it anyways, and was happy when the 'soft foods' lunch eventually made its way to me. A Grilled Cheese Sandwich never tasted better, it was the first solid food I had eaten since before my colonscopy, going back to March 23rd. I was feeling great, things were working, I was sent home that afternoon, staples still in me, but feeling great. My weight was down to 168lbs. Just before I left my last dressing change was the 'waterproof' cover over my incision; I could finally shower! Some things in life, like the taste of a piece of toasted bread, warm water flowing over your body, the touch of someone who cares, can never be taken for granted. I was overrun with emotion upon leaving, happy yes, glad yes, and relieved that this was done. I had so much support from my family and friends and coworkers, and I had the compassion and professional care from the medical staff, the nurses who looked after me were awesome. I would learn that this level of care was not just on one station, one floor, one hospital, but throughout the entire medical community. I know, I have experienced it first hand.
I would be weeks away from 'normal' activities. The Chemotherapy treatment would being within the month, and there were procedures to be done before that happened.
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