Operation Day

I finally felt the feeling of nervous. It came in spurts. The first sput was when we drove on the highway around the bend that would mark the beginning of the city the hospital was in. That lasted about 5 minutes.  The second spurt was when we were within view of the hospital. That lasted for about 15 minutes, until I was admitted into the hospital.

Actually, we were meeting my husband, and I was talking on the phone with him. He asked if I was nervous yet. My response, "yes. Either that or I am really excited,". We laughed at that, but seeing my inside shakes like that made a big difference in our attitude. If you think about it, nervous and excited have the same symptoms. It is the thoughts attached to them that causes us to interpret how we feel as one or the other.

The next spurt of shaky inside was when I realized that time had flown, and my operation time was in only 20 minutes. That lasted only about three minutes. My last spurt was 5 minutes before operation time. That lasted only a minute, ending when we were told it would be another hour or so.  It was 2 hours and 15 minutes later, but I decided being nervous was a waste of energy.

My family was invited into my private waiting room. I was in my hospital gown and laying in bed, waiting to be wheeled into the operating room. The nurse put a soft air pad with warm air flowing through it and a thin blanket that covered it on me. She started an IV into the backside of my left hand and started a fluid which prepared my kidney somehow. About an hour later she added a calming drug. I didn't notice any difference in how I felt, but it is true that I wasn't nervous when she wheeled me into the operating room.

I remember being wheeled up next to a table or bed. I remember two huge lights above, two people I could see, and one walking across the room. I remember asking if I would be climbing onto the table myself and if they would warn me before I was put out. Both answers were "yes". The next thing I remember is dreaming about cartoon bears in bubbles, then being woken up.

Apparently one of the drugs they gave me was an amnesia drug to keep my short term memory from becoming long term memory, which helps with a sense of peace. They later told me that I was fully awake for moving to the table and also when they told me they would be putting me out.

I slept in the recovery room for about a half hour after surgery before waking up. The male attending nurse woke me up by talking to me. I started asking a bunch of questions, but he didn't answer, and instead turned to make a report about me to another nurse. I was sad that apparently he thought I was just mumbling in my half asleep stage, which was confirmed when he told her I was still really groggy. I then heard him tell her one of my arteries was cut. At that time, all my previous questions, except my inquiries about my recipient, were gone, and I was content to believe I really was just mumbling nonsense. I was more curious about my report.

It turns out that this doesn't happen very often, but in my case an artery was nicked, and I lost about a cup of blood. That is not enough for a blood transfusion, but they wanted to check my hemoglobin and hematocrit levels every 4 hours. After faithfully testing about 5 times, my counts went up at the first test, and were found stabilized for the next several tests.

I have three 1-inch incisions (varying sizes) for their camera and tools, each cut side to side, all lined up (one above another) in the center of my abdomen under my ribs, stomach, and above my belly button. Then I have a six inch incision near the bikini fold, so it looks like a cesarean section scar, maybe a bit smaller, where the surgeon inserted his hand and guided the kidney out.

For the surgery I had a breathing tube, but was lucky enough to not have a sore throat from it. They did leave a clip on my nose to assist with oxygen. I had a catheter. I also had a button to push for dripping pain medication into my IV, no less than every half hour and no more than once every 5 minutes. It was a controlled narcotic.

I never felt loopy. I was as talkative as ever with all my silly ways of communicating. I was very clear, and very me, although quieter.