[Tripping On…] Hours After Surgery

I’m writing this as a preface for the notes I’ll write ‘after the jump’ in the few hours before my surgery, since I have the time and clarity to write about what I anticipate will happen. I’ll be sedated under anesthesia for 3.5 hours. I’ve never had any surgery before, so I will try to write about any thoughts I had during that anesthesia, otherwise, this essay might merely document my post-surgery experiences, however hazy… scary…?

I wrote my post-surgery notes in chronological order throughout September 1.

My surgery took place on August 31, so the question becomes, what happened? Well, unfortunately, though the surgery turned out well, I had some complications. I’ll paste in my notes below, then we’ll conclude with some thoughts:

Pre-surgery: I arrived and got signed in.

They wheeled me up to the prep room where the most noteworthy thing they did was put in this barbeque cleaning sauce in my nose. It wasn’t actually barbeque sauce. It’s this new chemical they use to clean 90% of the bacteria in a nose. It looked like barbecue sauce and was kind of like the COVID nasal test I took a few days ago.

When I met the anesthesist, I was told that I would go through a series of questions. I recall none of these, and I had no anesthesia dreams.

I did have complications.

I woke up with a completely numb body.

In this numb body, the doctors were mad at me that I wasn’t moving my arms and fingers around, and were blaming me for it. My spine doctor called me a hypochondriac a few times and was rude about me. He was asked by a terribly rude nurse if he ever saw this and he said once to a woman that was a hypochondriac and was quiet with the diagnosis. It sounded like she had done something terrible.

They left me alone for multiple hours after doing a MRI and stating I was healthy. I have never felt so isolated in my life. I was alone in this apathetic hospital. It was my fault I couldn’t move. I was a hypochondriac. When I finally answered that I was scared, they shipped me over to a patient room. I don’t know where I was before. Probably a critical care unit or some kind of purgatory for naughty patients.

These nurses treated me like a human being and did the best they could to help me out. They thouht it could have been the anesthesia medications interacting with my body through some kind of weird allergy. My nurse’s theory behind why my spine doctor was behaving badly was because then doctors don’t know something, they get defensive, and I suppose it’s easier to lash out in anger than trying to help, even if the result is victim-blaming and doesn’t lead to patient confidence.

I had to have a catheter put in to drain two liters of urine. This was the first time I had to do this. The experience was not as overwhelming as I had thought it would be, and actually helped dump whatever chemical was causing my body to be dumb. Either my bladder was causing me to be numb or the chemical.

By 4am on September 1, I was able to move my fingers around. My spine still hurts when I move it around.

By 5:30am, I was moving my arms and legs more naturally and could start writing.

I met with my spine doctor some time in the early morning and he was relieved. I told him he had bad bed-side manners. He said he was worried about my health. I told him about the full bladder and post-anesthesia chemical allergy theories. He said that was the same as the woman that he had treated ten years ago. I don’t know if anything more will happen because of it; this doctor had been otherwise fairly nice, but when the chips were down, he kicked me down. I spent a good portion of my paralyzed evening hating him. How could they be so rude to me? What had I done to deserve such a fate? Even if they were concerned, they treated me cruelly.

By 10:30am, I passed physical therapy and occupational [situational] therapy.

I have a hospital-approved cane now. I will leave it unadorned other than surgical tape indicating its proper height. I’ll go thrifting for another cane I can adorn with stickers and bring to less-professional establishments.

Overall, the surgery turned out well. I feel a big difference in mobility now. I can use my left leg again to almost its full capacity. With time and more physical therapy, I can probably return to full health.

I thought my discharge process would include talking to my doctor, where I would discuss my fitness goals. Instead, it was a nurse. I won’t be able to use my bathtub in its traditional sense until the wound in my back heals up. I do have a follow-up appointment in two weeks with my doctor.

For now, it feels good to stand on my own again.

They noted I had a low pulse this morning. They had given me two propranolol, which is more than I normally take. They justified me as having an athletic build, which is cool. I suppose I do have an athletic build now.

Funnily enough, the healthier I got, the better they treated me. I took their souvenir glass but I am overall not a huge fan of all of their processes and I don’t know if I’d recommend this hospital. They need to improve their patient care cares. I guess this is true of every hospital. I just would imagine that they’d treat their patients all the same, rather than bias toward the ones in better health.

There were, overall, some good things to experience within that spinal surgery. I knew there were risks, but I was confident the surgery would go well. It did, mostly.

It was the hospital that didn’t go well.

Endtable
Quotes: None.
Sources: My personal experiences.
Inspirations: My personal experiences. I did some quick research and found two essays – here and here – about post-surgical numbness. If I would have known about this, well, I wouldn’t have been so excited about getting the surgery.
Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters.
Picture: Template
Written On: 2020 August 31 [From intro at 2:25am to however hazy at 2:28am. Gdocs.] September 1 [From “however hazy… +scary…?” at 5:20pm to outro at 5:33pm. I wrote the blockquoted text throughout the day, but I edited it during that 13-minute writing/editing session ending at 5:33pm.]
Last Edited: 2020 September 01 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]
My big goal is writing. My most important goal is writing "The Story." All other goals should work toward that central goal. My proudest moment is the most recent time I overcame some fear, which should have been today. I'm a better zombie than I was yesterday. I'm not better than you and you're not better than me. Let's strive to be better every day.