The Saga: Part II

So I’ve been a little apprehensive about writing this post because 1) I can’t remember much of it and 2) it is really rather boring. And no, I haven’t forgotten it because I took so long to write it, I can’t remember much because for the rest of the story I was very heavily medicated and slept for a large portion of it. But I’ll give it a go anyway.

So the nice doctor just came in and told me I had the appendicitis. She also said they were going to find me a proper room (huzzah! No more ER!). I don’t know how long it actually took, but it felt as though took them about 1-2 hours to get me into a regular room. When the nice doctor left, the weird/semi-mean PA came in to discuss my surgery. I have no idea what time it is now, but I think it was close to 6am. She said she thinks I’ll be getting surgery around 7:30, but don’t quote her on that because it could be anywhere up to 12pm. Yeah, yeah, she was quite positive that I would be in surgery no later than 12pm.

So why couldn’t I just go to surgery now? Because the surgeon wasn’t there, and HER WORDS “I’m not going to call him in now if he is just going to come in an hour. She can wait. There is no need calling him now– that is just silly and he will be in shortly.” BITCH. Seriously, I have justification for calling her that because **spoiler alert** I didn’t get my surgery for another ELEVEN HOURS. If she would have just called him in at that moment, I would have been saved a lot of pain. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

So I’m still vomiting, but by now the pain meds have set in and boy oh boy did they make me hate everyone. I mean, that PA had a little something to do with it, but still. This one nurse came in and was all “blah blah blah” (I can’t remember what she said) but whilst talking, she was leaning on the side of my bed (it was an ER bed, so they had the railing up so they could move it to the CT scan and stuff) and she was shaking it and apparently it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, but I think my body was radiating hate because she was shaking the bed and I was getting sick and THEN this little male nurse came in to give me more pain meds and he was all “Oh blah blah blah I’m a giant tool bag and why did they put your IV here?” And my mom was all “I think the doctor had some trouble finding a vein” and then the giant tool bag was all “umm yeah a doctor wouldn’t have done that. It was a nurse” and my mom was all “whatever” but not in the “I’m a teenager whaaaaateverrrrr girlfriend way” but in a “I will give you three seconds to leave this room then I will let my daughter rip you to shreds.” It was all very dramatic. And because he talked to my mother like she was an idiot I gave him a death stare and he was all “Yeah, this shouldn’t take too much longer” and then he didn’t speak a lot after that because he knew I hated him and I think he just wanted to leave. Fast. Mission accomplished.

So then FINALLY I was taken up to my room where I was deemed a fall risk. How very exciting, no? So I am in bed with my IV and my meds and the meds have now made me itchy, not bitchy. So there is a lot more crying done because I am still in a lot of pain. 7:30 rolls around and I have not been to surgery yet. This goes on for a while until it is about 11:30 or something like that. Then this other PA comes in and is all “yeah, so we have a lot of surgeries scheduled for today, and they were all planned, and since Lauren isn’t a planned surgery, she is going to have to wait until they are finished. So she should be brought down around 3pm.”

Oh let me tell you- my mother and father….not two happy people. My nurse was already avoiding my room because my father kept asking her to call down to surgery and see if I was going to be seen in this lifetime, and so she only came into the room to deliver the meds and then she booked it out of there. So when this PA came bouncing in, my mother was having none of it. So a lot of hours go by, many of which I am asleep for, and finally it is 3pm. And I look at my mother and she looks at me and I say, “I really can’t stand another hour of this” because by this point not even pain meds were working. I couldn’t move; I had to stay as still as possible on my back because the second I turned to one side or the other I thought I was going to die.

So finally my dad had my nurse call the doctor that was supposed to be performing my surgery, and it turns out he was at another hospital doing another surgery. On another person. As in, he hadn’t been at my hospital all day and they didn’t know when he was going to be in because the surgery was going over time. So my mom said we want the next available surgeon and that this was ridiculous. So at 4pm they FINALLY took me to surgery. Or so I thought. They actually wheeled me down to OR prep and asked me all those same questions I’d been asked before, and then they put a hair net on me, and then she gave me oxygen and then I don’t really remember much. I do have random memories of looking at my doctor and seeing a bald, black man and thinking that Turk was operating on m. And I do remember being wheeled from prep to the actual operating room, and then moving from the one bed to the operating table. But other than that I just remember waking up and my parents were there and everyone was telling me I did a really good job in surgery. Thanks, I tried. I kept waking up in the recovery room asking where I was, and the nurses were all very nice and told me again and again and then they would tell me I did a really nice job. They kept saying this over and over as if I had performed some sort of magic trick whilst under the knife.

As it turns out, I was operated on by the chief surgeon and the doctor they originally scheduled assisted. And my mother informed me that they kept me in prep for over an hour, so I really didn’t get into the OR until around 5 or 6pm. Can you believe that!?!? And when the PA came back in that night (the one who said she wouldn’t call the doctor) she was all “yeah I hear it was pretty plastered in there” and so my mother and I think it was a loooooot worse than they let on because 1) the chief of surgery operated on me and 2) they kept telling me I did a good job which was probably due to the fact that 3) it had started seeping or started to burst because 4) how else would it be plastered down in there?

Anyway, I was discharged the next day after receiving a nasty shot in my leg and I have been at my mothers house recovering. I started out in a reclining chair but slowly progressed to the couch. Now I am able to sleep in a bed (granted, I am surrounded by about 30 pillows) and I can get up by myself and I no longer need a walker to get around. I still have a lot of pain near the three incision points (they are really gross) but other than that I am doing well. I still need help putting on socks and sometimes pants and I have a little trouble getting in and out of the car, but overall I’m healing nicely. I’ll be really happy when all the pain is gone, but until then I am enjoying taking it slowwwww.

So there you have it. I told you the second part was wicked boring. I hope you enjoyed my terrible journey into the hospital!

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One response to “The Saga: Part II

  1. Pingback: Two Thousand And Eleven | (im·prob·a·ble_fic·tion)

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