Posting Post-op

I'm two weeks out from surgery. Time to play catch-up on the blog.

Surgery 

This was my fourth surgery experience. This one in yet another facility. My brother Lynn came down to be with me for this procedure and drove me to Legacy Salmon Creek Hospital around 6 AM on the 10th. But not before praying with me for a successful outcome.

LSC Day Surgery is conveniently located on the same floor as the sky bridge from the parking garage. Checking in went smoothly because all the pre-op paperwork had been done earlier. Lynn was given a number and a name tag so he could be updated when the surgeon was finished. Then we waited to be taken to my room. We tried three different chairs before we found anything we would call comfortable, but it wasn’t long before I was called. By then Avis had joined us.

Small cubicles lined the corridor, each with a complete glass front that included a sliding door. The first order of business was getting changed into a heavy, double-thickness paper gown complete with air duct attachment for hoses from a heating/cooling outlet. Then came taking the medical history that had not yet been done (meds/supplements), along with vital signs and starting an IV. Word came that the surgeon wanted to start half an hour early, so I was double-teamed, answering questions from one nurse while the IV was inserted by another. That nurse believed me when I told him that my veins were so good he could hit them from across the room, and he started the IV without using a tourniquet. Good man. He was also appropriately entertained by the banter between Lynn and me.

Chaplain Bill Hunter from my church came by to offer good will and pray with us. Much appreciated. The anesthesiologist stopped by, a fresh eager young man on his first day at this hospital. As he began to list the possible side effects, I assured him both that I was in the medical field and that God was in control. The last part made his face fall. He did not recover until Avis told him as he left my cubicle that “we are counting you, Doctor, to do a good job.”

When Dr. Musleh stopped by, carrying his surgical scope in a well-worn case, he asked me to lean forward and marked a spot on my lower back. I asked him if he was teasing me. The male surgical nurse who accompanied him reminded him that I was having neck surgery. Embarassed, but also pushed out of his routine by the assembled number of staff in the room, he stepped back and marked the correct area on my neck. I teased him and told him I hoped he had an alcohol prep, because I wasn’t going into surgery until that mark on my back was erased.

Saying good bye to my two supporters, I was wheeled on my gurney to a surgical suite just before 8 AM. I remembered the coolness that hit my face just as the nurse told me not to worry about the temperature, since I would be heated up by my high-tech gown. Scooted onto the table, I saw my anesthesiologist above my head and was repositioned until I was “just right.” My memories of the breathing mask are short.

I woke up at 11:20 AM in Recovery. I immediately noticed two things: the pain was gone and I was remarkably alert (based on my past experiences with anesthesia). My nurse was amazing. Not only was she solicitous toward me, she was helping at least two other nurses with their patients and fielding questions which she readily—and happily—answered.

Back in my cubicle (#222), I was monitored by a new nurse, who was the best yet. Lynn and Avis came back. Melanie and Shannon dropped by. My blood pressure finally dropped enough that I was sent home. But not before Lynn was sent to the pharmacy to get my Rx.

Home

I was home by 4 PM, settled into my La-Z-boy while Lynn fielded phone calls from those checking up on us and my progress. I was feeling pretty good until I began to get nauseous a couple of hours after my narcotic pain killer and half an hour after my muscle relaxer. I threw up more than was in my stomach while Lynn was in the LR having a BFF conversation over the phone with his oldest grandson. For the first time, I questioned coming home today.

Getting in touch with the doctor proved quite frustrating. I think this clinic invented the run-around, intentionally or not. I finally called Day Surgery to see if they could help. I was transferred to my post-op nurse, and she was incredible. She not only confirmed my impression, but she also sent a message to my doc and his PA, both still in surgery. No wonder he had wanted to start early. By the time I got a call back, he was working on a 12+-hour day. I asked the PA if I could go back on the Vicodin I had left, and Lynn made another trip to another pharmacy for anti-nausea meds.

I didn’t trust myself to self-medicate during the night, so Lynn was up every 2 hours with my pain meds. Toward the morning hours, he had to wake me, so that was a good sign. We both napped throughout the next day, but we also walked a loop around the park… a half mile or so.

Lynn stayed and helped for a couple of days, going home late Wednesday evening after a long wait to get a refill on the Vicodin. I discovered that half a mile was too much exertion, but we did manage a couple of hands of cards along with a grocery run.

In the ensuing days, I learned that too much activity led to a day of feeling lousy, but days of activity were welcome, especially lunch out, cards, and a movie with the girls a week after surgery. And well worth the cost.

Post-op

Ten days out I went back for my post-op appointment. An x-ray confirmed that my head was on straight [:)] and revealed the cadaver bone spacer, titanium plate and screws that now fuse my C6-7 vertebrae in the front. When the PA asked if I wanted to look at my scar in the mirror after she removed the steri-strips, I said, “Sure, but I’m certain that I have enough wrinkles to hide it somewhere.”  She laughed, but I was right. I will have a small 2-inch scar on the left side, tucked in the wrinkle encircling the base of my neck. I’m told I will feel like I have the flu for another few weeks, weak and achy. I was cleared for easy, half-days of work, but not much head movement, computer work, or lifting. They are pleased with my progress even though I still have several grades of weakness in my L arm, wrist, hand, and fingers. 

Tingly fingers in my left hand since surgery have given rise to hope that more function will return. Saturday I was able to feel the raised marker on the "F" key of the computer keyboard for the first time in quite awhile.

Sitting without support for my head for long alerts me to how big my head is (something you all may have suspected long since), and I find that I cannot sit long at the computer. I’m still not driving. The blind spot looms frighteningly large with my limited head rotation.

The brightest spot in my recovery are the massages from Melody. Her magic fingers have all but eliminated the mirroring right-side pain ensuing from twisting when I was dressing to leave the hospital, giving me confidence that it is temporary. Not to mention my over-the-fence neighbor, Wendy, who constantly thinks up things to do for me.

What would I do without friends and family? My big bro is the best caregiver, my English “outlaws” are wonderful, my Life Group remains in a class by themselves, and my friend Karel is truly that and more. I am also thankful for my church and Demarle families, so many of whom have called, visited, sent cards, offered help, and most importantly, prayed for my healing.