Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Real Truth About My Surgery: Part 1

I am still on the couch, icing my knee and popping Advil way too much.  Since I have been doing nothing but lying here I have begun to piece together what really happened in the OR that day---that day I had a minor arthroscopic surgery that has kept me almost continually on my back for the past eight days.....eight days. 

At Check-In on the day of my surgery,  I learned that I was scheduled for surgery at 2:00 pm.  So I checked
in and took a seat in the waiting room. I waited, read a magazine, waited, read a magazine, paced the floor, waited, read another magazine.  I had been NPO since about 10pm the night before  (non per os---nothing by mouth--no water--no food  except for the kernel of candy corn I mindlessly popped into my mouth when I was giving some to Dallas earlier that day). I couldn' read another magazine.  I was focusing on the food and even carrots and spinach looked delicious to me. At 3:55 I declared to Rachel, " At 4:00 I am going up to see what is going on." I picked up another Southern Living Magazine.  Rachel took out a baby wipe from her bag and wiped my mouth.  "You're drooling again."  She took my magazine from me.  I watched the clock.  When the big hand hit twelve I bounced up and walked to the receptionist's desk.  I explained to her that my surgery was for 2 and now it was 4.  She looked a little annoyed.  "The doctor is doing a shoulder and it is taking longer than they had anticipated."

When I sat back down Rachel handed me a  Gun and Rifle magazine.  I studied the photos of the pistols and rifles, trying to decided which one I would use to shoot myself.  I  felt chastised and ashamed.......................Poor patient................Poor doctor.  How dare I inquire about my surgery? 

At 4:21 I was finally called back and the first place I was taken to was the SCALES.  I had told you earlier that I always refused to be weighed in the doctors' offices.  I don't really want to know that NUMBER, but I knew the anesthesiologist would need to know my weight to calculate the dosage of the anesthesia.  I stepped onto the SCALES.  The nurse began to move the weights around.............................the arm did not move.  She moved the bigger weight up.......................the arm did not move................she moved it even higher.....until the arm bounced up.   She began to move the smaller weight until the arm leveled off.  I saw her write it on the chart.................in big red letters.  Again, I thought of the gun.

 She took me to my room and had me disrobe and put on a gown.  I was allowed to keep my underwear and socks on.  She asked me my name, birth date, and which knee was I was having the surgery on.  I was the correct patient and it was my right knee. She hooked me up to a monitor, took my vital signs and started my IV.  She was very nice and each time she came in she asked me again which knee was to be worked on.  Right knee.  Right knee.  Right knee.

Soon the anesthesiologist brushed back the curtain and introduced himself.  The drill............."Yes, I'm Marilyn Smith.................my birthdate is.............Right knee."  He  looked at my chart, asked me a few questions and then told me about the anesthesia he was going to give me.    "Right knee?"  he asked again.  He took out a big fat red magic marker and wrote on my left leg.     He asked me if I had any questions, to which I replied," no".  With the swish of the curtain, he left my little room .  I raised my left leg to see what he had written on it.  I couldn't make out the writing, so I reached for my bag and fumbled for my glasses case.  "right knee/ very fat."   I began to think about the gun again.

to be continued....................


  1. HILARIUOS! From the way this is starting... there could be a prize winning book written... you are too funny! Keep it coming, Jf

  2. What in the world, I can't wait for the continuation, you are hilarious!!!

  3. I have one you can borrow! Just call next time.

  4. you just made my day so true I can't stop laughing sorry pain not fun but story is.lol ht