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The medical theories of the Marquis de Sade….

Continued from the previous post

Okay…so to continue on…Upon leaving the pre-op room I kissed my wife good-bye and left her standing there with my Living Will and Medical Power of Attorney, hoping that in the next 210 minutes she would not have to wield their powers.  On the way up to the surgical room I asked the nurse if we could write “I beat Anorexia” on my chest to give the surgical team a laugh, and while she did find that pretty funny she said that would probably not be the best idea since they may be making an incision point in it and they would worry about infection.

As we rolled down the floor to my awaiting operating room the doors were all sci-fi like sliding open with a hydraulic “whoosh” instead of swinging open. Upon entering the operating room I was greeted by a host of people in masks and was told all of their names of which I can only remember my surgeons name, Dr. Dan, and the anestegiologist aid Toby.  Toby was female and the name just stuck with me, plus she saw me in the pre-op room and asked me some of the questions I already answered before.  They wheeled me up to the surgical table and I slid over on to that table…now The hospital I am at handles a lot of bariatric patients so they typically have equipment to handle larger people.  Let me tell you the surgical table felt like it could have been a full ass cheek bigger than what it was for me.  I figured though that they were the professionals and at some point when I was asleep they would strap me in, I am sure falling off the table in the middle of surgery would not be a good thing.

Dr. Dan again, went over the procedure of what he was going to do and then had me sign another surgical order specifing that it could either be the sleeve or a Roux-en-y procedure.  It didn’t take long once I was on the table for the sleep doctors to do their thing…I reminded them that I paid for the package deal and they assured me they would wake me up.  They put a mask over my face and told me to take 5 deep breathes.  I knew that I would probably not get to 5, and when I did I was surprised…I figured by the second I would be off in dream land.  However, I heard them talking and apparently they didn’t have something quite right and they told me to keep breathing deeply.  I maybe got two more breaths in and the next thing I remember was trying to wake up in the recovery unit.

I did fine coming out of the deep sleep, but I can tell you that it took quite awhile.  At this point I lost all concept of time and I think I remember asking someone at some point and they told me it was 1:30PM.  I am sure my addled mind was trying to process all of that, but I do remember thinking damn, that was a long time.  As I mentioned in the first post the first thing I wanted to know when I woke up was whether or not I had a sleeve or the Roux-en-y.  And I do remember when they told me the good news I relaxed and drifted back off.  As I said the coming out of sleep process was pretty drawn out.  And all in all I was on the table for about 3 hours, in recovery for close to another 3.  I finally made it into my room at about 2:30PM.

The trip to my room was performed by two very capable attendants who I will nickname Oliver and Hardy (for my Ukrainian peeps…we will call them Boris and Natasha)…though technically one was actually female, Boris and Natasha may be a better fit.  All I can say was what a long friggin trip that was to get to my room…apparently the elevators in the hospital, at least the part I was in, go up and down okay, but they don’t always stop exactly level with the floor. So when they were trying to get me off the elevator on my floor the bed casters would get caught jostling me in my bed and causing me a fair amount of discomfort…strike that, it was down right fucking painful.  Let me just say that I let it be known after the second time that if they tried it again I would get up and walk off the fucking elevator for them than have them once more try to ram the bed over the raised gap….damn was that painful.  Finally they went up a floor and then came back down to see if that leveled things out and then called a third stooge…sorry I am mixing up my TV Land characters.  With the aid of Curly they were able to get the bed up over the threshold without causing me too much more pain than what I was already in.

When I got too my room and got situated…met my primary RN, Sarah, that would be attending to my needs from 7AM to 7pm daily, and getting everything else situated so my wife was finally allowed to visit with me.  I remember we talked a little, but honestly much of that time I was pretty far out of it and just wanted to sleep some more.  Though the RN did tell me that by about 6:00PM she would be coming to get me to go for a short walk.  They warned me that this would be the case…but they neglected to warn me that I was going to feel like a bus ran over me, backed up and had another go, and then I was expected to get up and go after it…they say it helps the healing process.  Who came up with that theory, the Marquis de Sade?

Well loyal readers this is where I write, to be continued……

 

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