The Impatient Patient

Surgery is not for sissies and I was anxious about the experience. Having one’s gut cut open and fished around in is not on my list of enjoyable experiences but it had to be done. What I thought was a simple procedure I found out later was, in fact, a major deal. I managed some levity making car sounds as I was wheeled to the OR and gasped as I entered what looked like an over lit space ship. Lots of big lights and machinery.

“Choose a favorite dream Alisa,” I heard the anesthesiologist say as I drifted off. Two and half hours later I awake and sent to a nice room. I was met by a dear friend in full motorcycle gear including leather chaps as she had arrived on a Harley. Heather and a tall fellow named Jim were my assigned nurses.

“I specifically requested a cabana boy in Bermuda shorts.” I joked while I settled in. He understood the assignment and showed up the next day in a Hawaiian vacation themed shirt.

The staff was universally kind, attentive and it helped ease my painful state. Despite the drugs, I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. I was hooked up to an IV and monitor for oxygen/ heart rate in the most comfortable bed ever.

They are big on preventing blood clots and insisted on inflatable leggings that massaged my calves. I’m a fussy sleeper in the best of conditions so it was hard to relax when it felt like I was being loved hugged repeatedly by two large boa constrictors. Around midnight I asked they come off but there was no rest with interruptions for vitals check, blood draw and alarms from the gizmos going off.

I felt well enough the next day for a walk with Jim’s assistance, good thing too because I would have been lost in the maze of hallways and sameness. Big windows with seating offered views of the Mackenzie River on the east side of the building and Eugene on the other. Two floors below, amid the expanse of a gravel rooftop, was a brand new playground for the pediatrics ward which looked too safe to be enjoyed by kids. The hospital has a ski lodge vibe to it, and apparently the architect used to design them and knowing construction, I was not impressed with it’s quality. It seems nothing is designed or built well in this country anymore.

I met with the surgeon Dr. Clark and she wanted me to stay until I pooped but I was bored with nothing to do but wander the halls and cruise cable TV.

“Can I go home, please, please with sugar on top,” I pleaded like a child stuck indoors with a cold. She thought for a moment and relented. (The sugar on top did it I’m sure.) So I’m back home to continue my slow recovery, resting a lot and using the time to get more writing done. Stay tuned.