Surgery and Home
My gallbladder removal surgery was scheduled for 11:00 am the following morning. Until then I got to drift on a morphine haze. The pain was not going away this time so I know the surgery was necessary. My gallbladder was insistent that it was not going to go quietly into the great good-night. It was going to go out kicking and screaming, it was going to protest and raise hell. Thankfully, for now, morphine was stronger than the pain.
They got me ready and sent me to pre-op by 9:30. The surgeon was ahead of schedule and was just finishing up another gallbladder removal. I signed all my papers and got the first of the meds to relax me before they put me under. The nurse had me take off all of my jewelry in my room but I’d completely forgotten about my labia piercing. When they asked me about jewelry, I remembered. I hated to take it out but I figured I’d just go back to my piercer to have her put it back in once I was feeling a bit better. I’ve had it for long enough that I felt confident the hole wouldn’t close up if I waited a few days to have the jewelry put back in. Since I’d been considering putting a different color ring in, I just decided to throw this one away. It wasn’t expensive and I didn’t feel like dealing with trying to keep track of it. It was just easier to let the nurse throw it away and not have to worry about it again.
They wheeled me into the OR and had me move onto the operating table. That was painful. The pain was managed as long as I wasn’t moving. As soon as I tried to move, the pain came back full force, even through the morphine. They told me it would only be a few moments before I was under and then I’d wake up and this horrible pain would be gone. They stretched my arms out to my sides and positioned them in the arm rests. They put a mask over my face and told me it was just oxygen and that I was to breathe deeply. I did.
Then the wonderful time came when they told me they were giving me the meds to put me to sleep. I told them I was ready and they said before I knew it I would be waking up in recovery. That was my last thought.
I became aware of sounds before I could open my eyes. I heard someone beside me typing. I heard people talking in the background. I heard footsteps as people rushed around. I opened my eyes and saw a woman, sitting on a high stool on my left, typing. I asked her if I was done. She said that I was all finished and the surgery went fine. She also said that they’d take me back to my room in a bit and that in a few hours, the doctor would release me to go home.
I drifted in and out of sleep for awhile after that. I have no concept of time and how long I was in recovery until they took me back to my room. Once I was back in my room, the surgeon came in to talk to me. He told me that he was sending me home with Percocet and that I could resume a normal diet and to take it easy for the next few days. He told me that I needed to see him in six days to get the staples taken out.
Treun took the afternoon off to pick me up and take me home. I got home and went to bed. I thought that I’d be back to work on Monday. I thought that I’d start to get better each day. I thought that things would be better and that pain I experienced from my gallbladder was behind me.
I was wrong on so many levels. I was about to find out that gallbladder pain was a walk in the park compared to what was to come.
I was about to find out the meaning of hell on earth.