Surgery Day-Ready, Steady-GO!

One of my porters...ok not really.

6:30 AM. The sun was up (it was still overcast but definitely light out).  My teeth were brushed, my face was clean. I had been told I'd get about a 10 minute warning that the porters were on their way for me, likely around 7AM. I was thirsty and pretty hungry. I was still in my pj bottoms with my shirt from yesterday and my bra half on. I was feeling a little tired which I think was helping with my numbed calm feeling.
I was considering calling my Mom or Charlie when the curtain by the door of my room started twitching. Two ladies came in. I recognized them as being nursing assistant or something. The told me someone would be coming to get me soon and and asked if I needed to use the washroom or anything before they locked me up in the bed. I said I did and started to get out of bed.  it was at that point that one of them noticed what I was wearing.

"Why don't you have a gown on?" one of them asked. "because no one has given me one yet". They seemed concerned with this and one hurried out of the room to get a gown. She came back and handed it to me. I gestured towards the IV tubing and asked her how I was supposed to get the shirt off with that on.  She seemed more irritated and said she would go get a nurse (they are not allowed to unhook IVs I guess-makes sense). Within moments the nurse rushed in, quickly unhooked my IV and I scooted into the washroom to suit up. I forgot how complicated hospital gowns can be! Its amazing how quickly you can feel inept trying to get one on. I was amused to see that the "designers" of gowns have still not figured out how to adequately cover the butt region.  One day they will get it I'm sure!

No sooner was my half covered butt in bed when the porters showed up. At Foothills they are all dressed in the bright purple that made me envision two Barney the dinosaurs pushing me down the hall (remember I was a little tired). I giggled outloud but I don't think anyone noticed. There was some commotion as to where my chart was, who had it and who was going to get it.

This was the moment in my hospital stay where I think I ceased to be Lauren, the person, and suddenly became a nameless patient. The purple porters looked right through me. They conversed over me like I wasn't there. Just as we were about to leave the room,  the louder, more flamboyant one of the two noticed I had my glasses on still. She said to the other porter "Wait - I have to take the patient's glasses of so they won't get lost". Once she had done that, off we went. The bed was pretty large and I can only imagine it was heavy...they struggled to steer it around a few initial corners.  I felt a little strange having two women push me in this giant bed, especially knowing we had a fair distance to go. The OR area I was heading to was on the 7th floor of the main building. I was a little surprised to see there wasn't a patient tunnel or something between the buildings and that patients were transported through that same bridge walkway I had navigated the day before.

The purple porters got better with the steering as time went on. I hated not being able to really see what we were passing, the faces of people we passed or where we were going.  I think there should be a way patients can wear their glasses to the OR. Anyway we eventually made it to our destination.  I was wheeled through a large set of doors into a holding type area where there were about 12 chairs, sporadically filled with patients and loved ones. There was room for two beds. They parked my bed (of course not saying anything to me) and a nearby patient in the chairs asked me why I was so special that I didn't have to walk in like they did. I just smiled and shrugged.

I saw the the purple porters had headed over to a sort of office area with a window.  it looked like some kind of coordination office for the operating area. The louder porter told the lady behind the window that I was there (referring to me by ward and room I believe) and that she was going to get other patients that were next on the list, identifying them in the same way. The lady behind the window quickly told her she couldn't do that yet, not for about another 30 minutes. I thought I heard her say something to the effect of me needing to be gone. I figured they must be talking about my recipient. In a donation like mine we need to be separate ahead of time lest someone change their mind and because of course they want things to be anonymous. If I wasn't sure they were talking about me I certainly was once they all looked over at me at once-hello!! I can see you staring (sort of...blurry but still)! It was a weird feeling being talked about like I wasn't there or I couldn't hear. They nailed down their patient logistics, wrapped up the conversation and off they went.  I tried to get comfortable and waited to see what would happen next.

Surgery Day-Morning Pep Talk

I had a very solid sleep for half of the night before surgery. I was sleeping deeply enough that I really didn't care when the night nurse came in to check vitals. I let her do her thing-very unlike me as I am usually a light sleeper who doesn't go back to sleep easily. After about 2AM thought I started waking up about every 30-45 minutes because I thought I had to use the washroom. I think it was more nerves than anything.

By 4AM I was just awake.  It doesn't help when there is a clock across from your bed starting you in the face. I stared at it for about an hour (and checked Facebook on the iPhone) and finally got up at 5AM. I washed my face and brushed my teeth (and wondered to myself when my dangling bra and day old t-shirt was going to come off). I went back and lay in bed, looking out at my great view. The sun was starting to come up. It was still pretty quiet on the floor-not much of any hustle and bustle yet. I took advantage of the calm and quiet to have a chat with Leftie (as goofy as that might sound). I read a blog, posted by the Kidney Foundation of Canada in my research of a girl whose second transplant was slow to work. After weeks of waiting someone suggested to her that she name it and talk to it, encouraging it to work. After she did that, things started working. I get that there isn't any science behind that, and the lack of logic in the scenario conflicts me but I figured I had nothing to lose and two hours to kill till they came and got me. 

I apologized to Leftie for letting him go (I kind of felt bad for some reason) but I asked him to try to work really hard in his new home, for a long time, that he needed to be strong.  I also encouraged Righty to get ready to get ready to step up and take over for him-I told her she could do it. Somewhere, the doctor who did my psych evaluation is cringing, I bet- "OMG she was talking to her organs...I asked her if she heard voices but I never asked her if she speaks to body parts!! Add that to the checklist for next time!". 

I think obviously it was more of a pep take for me anyway and another form of visualization. I've done a lot of that actually in preparation for this final leg of the journey.  I've tried to imagine what the pain will be like and have come up with coping mechanisms to get through it. For example, recently, when it was my "time of the month, I had my usual brutal cramps. The can last up to a day and I've learned how to coax myself through them. Last month, as they occurred, I made myself consider what if the pain was worse than the cramps and lasted two days instead of one. How would you handle it? By thinking ahead and picturing myself going through the recovery process, I hope it will make me more prepared for whats to come. 

I've also calculated how long and when certain symptoms will present themselves (gas, nausea, fatigue) and what I'll do to mitigate them.I've cataloged and committed to memory a list of why I am doing this and how important it is, so in those moments of discomfort or fear, I'll hopefully remember the positives and be able to keep on going. I've accepted certain truths-its going to hurt, I'm going to have to depend on other people, I'm going to look and feel gross and I've going to be put into some embarrassing situations (like being naked in front of strangers, needed bathroom help, saying something dumb whilst on morphine-needing other people in general). I think its important to think things through and imagine as many scenarios as possible so you'll be more mentally prepared for things. I'll keep you posted on that. Again, much like the conversations with the kidneys, I am not sure if it will have any impact at all but what do I really have to lose?

Surgery Eve

With visiting hours essentially over and the evening winding down, it was time for the nurses to do a few things to get me ready for the adventures of the next day. The first step was to get me hooked up to an IV to give me some extra fluids to prepare me for the surgery. My nurse came in with some warm blankets to wrap my arms in.  Apparently this makes the whole IV process a bit easier.

I've only ever had IVs for day surgery and those have always gone into my hand because of the short duration they are in. However for more substantial surgeries or length IV time, they don't like to use the hands, I think because they hurt more and the sites don't stay viable as long.Two nurses came in the room about 10 minutes after the blankets has been wrapped around my arms. After a few false starts due to missing IV parts (that they had to source from other units in the hospital) we were ready to get the job done.

Now whenever I have given blood, had blood drawn or have had the aforementioned hand IVs, I've always been told I have beautiful veins that make it easy to get the job done. The nurse on Surgery Eve made the same comment. Until she tried to find a vein in my forearm vs. in my hand or at the crook of my elbow. Basically I found out that in my wrist area, my veins weave and go deep into my arm, away from the surface making it difficult to find a good spot. They need enough of a straight portion of vein that the needle will go in before the vein curves again. We had an epic fail with one on my right arm (resulting in my hospital bracelet looking like it had been present at a massacre). She tried with the left. I have to say that I have never seen a nurse more focused and confident that she would get the job done.  She really knew what she was doing. She finally found a spot and with great determination, ripping packages open with her teeth as to not lose the vein by letting go, she got the IV in painlessly. Just as she was about to hook the tubing up to the bag of basic saline solution, the EKG man finally showed up. Apparently there were a lot of emergency patient issues throughout the hospital that had kept him busy. He did his thing (in under 3 minutes) and off he went.  The nurse finished hooking everything up and I  was officially tied to a portable IV pump stand.  I know I named the stand at one point but for the life of me I can't remember what I named it-I think it may have been Walter.

A little while later the nurse came by with the best gift ever - an enema kit. By that point she had decided for me that I would just do it myself.  She gave me the instructions, unplugged Walter and told me I could get to it whenever I was ready. I don't really feel like explaining how it works, so if you are really interested, there is more information here. The purpose of this is to make sure your insides are as cleaned out as possible so that there are no accidents while you are in surgery and also because they will be operating near the bowels it's a safety thing (in case something gets nicked). Again, I don't want to get into details but it is a very weird sensation both during and after. I wonder a little bit about the sanity about the person who came up with the concept of enemas. It doesn't hurt and isn't overly uncomfortable-just strange.

With all of that done it was getting late.  I was actually feeling pretty tired.  I did my best to wash my face and brush my teeth. Doing anything in the bathroom attached to my room with Walter in tow was kind of amusing.  The room has a walk in shower, slightly sloped downwards from where the toilet and sink were. Walter, unlike everything else in the hospital with wheels, didn't come with brakes so he was almost always rolling away from me-there wasn't enough IV tubing to stretch the distance so I had to keep pulling him back and using my foot to prevent his travel. It was funny that first night but I wondered how it would be when I wasn't feeling fine and a lot weaker in the days to come.

I was still in my t-shirt and yoga pants I had arrived to the hospital in. I couldn't get anything off the top of me because of the IV (bra included.  I put p.j bottoms on and did my best to unhook my bra and push it aside (very classy). Not ideal but I didn't realize at the time that there was anything I could do about it (I found out later the IV could easily be unhooked by a nurse). I tucked myself in, found a good position for the bed and surprisingly fell asleep fast.