Finished and conscious

Actually, been finished since mid-afternoon and am conscious again after napping.

The whole affair ran more than an hour behind schedule; I showed up at 0815 for check-in as directed, then sat in the waiting room for 45 minutes. Finally I went and complained to the admissions clerk about the long wait, and she quickly rounded up a nurse to escort me downstairs to the surgical floor.  The floor nurse efficiently ran me through taking vitals, went over the HIPAA form to be sure I understood just what was being done to me (I did), started my IV, and put me to bed, where I dozed and waited for another hour.  L kept me company while working on a dresser scarf for her grandmother.

Finally the anesthesiologist who was NOT doing my job came in and reviewed the anesthesia protocol (Versed and Fentanyl for pre-sedation, then Diprivan to knock me out).  Fifteen or twenty minutes after he left, the anesthesiologist who WAS doing my job came by, followed in short order by Doctor Jim Bob, who wore a full-head covering that made him look a bit like a member of the French Foreign Legion.  (His beard is bigger than mine.)  The circulating nurse collected me, got points from L for pronouncing my name correctly, and gave me a bunch of points for pronouncing HER name correctly.  She gurneyed me down to the OR door but allowed me to walk in on my own feet and get onto the table with only minimal steadying.  I don’t know why, but sedation isn’t bad to screw around with my balance.  The anesthesiologist disconnected the forced-air heater from the table (now THERE’S a notion, a warming pan for operating tables!), and chatted for a few minutes as they strapped me on.  For my part, I decided I might’s well close my eyes and take advantage of the sedation while they stirred around, so I never did know when the Diprivan went in.

L tells me that Doctor Jim Bob came and fetched her about two and brought her back down, where I was just starting to be at myself.  I was surprised to discover much less packing than I had had after previous procedures, but Doctor Jim Bob said it was sewn in there and unlikely to be coming out until he was ready for it to go.  He also didn’t tape one of those irritating gauze pads across the bottom of my nose to catch any seepage, mainly because there IS barely any seepage, and what there is comes only from the left side and is easy to blot with Kleenex.  I got dressed and an orderly wheeled me down about quarter past three.

As long as we were out, L decided to go ahead and pick up M to save another trip.  We came home, I ate breakfast, and got back into bed to sleep off the rest of the anesthesia.  About seven I got up again, and went to find some supper.  Happily, I don’t appear to have bled enough into my stomach to nauseate me, so I dodged the whole “eat three bites, run to throw up a stomachful of blood, eat the remainder of the meal” routine that sometimes happens.  The light gauze packing means that instead of having the Worst Hed Code Ebbar, it feels no worse than a spring allergy attack and mouth-breathing for a few days.  Weren’t for Doctor Jim Bob’s instructions, I’d be thinking about going back to work on Monday, but instead I’ll be a Good Little Boy and stay home, stay quiet, and try not to stay bored, a task in which I encourage my readership to help me.

Bunjee the swirly chinaberry across seven.  Fnord.