I’m Alive!

I made it! My lapband surgery was a success, and I’m alive and doing well. Thanks to everyone who offered me even the slightest amount of support during this time. The phone calls, e-mails and blog comments were all very kind. Thank you all very much.

My adventure began Monday morning with a 7:15am check-in at the hospital. I had blood work (poorly) drawn by a girl barely old enough to drive. From there it was off to the surgery check-in room, where I was soon met by Susan, and shortly after, my mother.

After changing out of my street clothes and into my hospital gown, I was told my surgery would take place at 8:45am. I had an IV hooked up. Somewhere around this time my dad showed up as well. My parents and Susan chatted about different topics while I generally stared off into space. It was hard to think about anything specific, but I was sure glad to be surrounded by familiar faces and voices. Some of the others waiting in the surgery area were alone, which seemed really sad to me. As 8:45am rolled around, a nurse walked by to inform us that the doctor was running at least 90 minutes behind, which eventually turned into 120 minutes. The hospital bed I was lying on was not met for long-term occupancy, and before long my tailbone was aching something fierce.

Upon entering the hospital I was given a wrist tag with my name, surgery information and a bar code printed on it. When they finally came to get me for surgery, they checked the tag and found it was wrong. Boy did that cause me to momentarily panic. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up missing a leg — or, worse yet, as MRS O’Hara! The tag confusion was quickly rectified, and shortly thereafter I was en route to the pre-op waiting room.

There, I met the anesthesiologist. We went over what I would see and feel and experience. The nurse was also nice. From there, I parted ways with the family and began the ride back to the operating room. Once there, I slid from the bed I’d been riding on to the operating table. As the anesthesiologist approached I asked him how long it took for the anesthesia to kick in. He said, “Watch this.”

When I cracked open my eye a split second later I was in the recovery room with a nurse sitting next to me. “You’re surgery’s over, everything went fine,” she said. “Jesus, is that you?” I asked. “No, I’m a nurse,” she replied. “Well, that’s good news,” I said, and closed my eyes again.

The entire procedure took around 30 minutes, with another 30 or so in recovery. From there I was whisked into one of the hospital’s private rooms. It wasn’t as nice as Susan’s room was when she had her surgery, but it was adequate. They must’ve really pumped me full of anesthesia, as I nodded off and on between noon and 4pm or so. During a lot of that time I was awake but with my eyes closed. I could hear the conversations around me but it took too much effort to respond to them. Instead I listened, and rested.

Around 4:30 or so one of the nurses came around and said that the more I moved around the better off I would be, so I made my way out of the hospital bed and into one of the chairs within the room. From there I made a few phone calls, watched America’s Funniest Home Videos on the television, and just rested in general. My mom stuck around for a bit while Susan went to go pick up the kids from school. Nothing too exciting there. Susan did bring the kids by to see me for a few minutes. I was a bit nervous about them bumping into my stitches or something but they were extremely calm the entire visit. Around the time they arrived my mom went home. Sue and the kids only stayed for about ten minutes and then they too left.

About an hour later, dinner was served, consisting of chicken broth, diluted apple juice, decaf tea, decaf coffee, and diet Jell-O; 30 milliliters every 30 minutes. I couldn’t come close to finishing it.

One of the male nurses came by and mentioned the Monday Night Football game. I flipped the game on and ended up watching the first half while sitting in the chair and the second half while lying in bed. I think the game ended shortly before ten o’clock, which seemed like a good time for bed. Susan came back up to the hospital around 10pm to stay the night. It was really comforting to have her there. She helped with lots of little things like IV tubes getting tangled and helping me get water. It is nice to have someone by your side during times like that.

Tuesday morning went just as quickly. Shortly after the new day’s nurses came by to introduce themselves, my surgeon’s assistant came by to release me around 8:30am. Breakfast was served — another tray just like the first, with yellow Jell-O taking the place of red. I ate what I could. Through the magic of Loritab, I was feeling well enough this morning to take a shower on my own. There is very little pain, per se; a bit of an upset and bruised stomach, and six tiny incisions, all with two or three staples each (they’re all covered in tape still, so I don’t know exact sizes yet). By 10am Susan and my dad had arrived. I made the honorary ride outside in a sleek wheelchair. Dad drove my truck home and I rode in Susan’s van.

For the next two weeks I’m on a liquids-only diet. That’s followed by two weeks of soft foods, before returning to normal grub (smaller portions, of course). I took the entire week off so I’ll be relaxing around the house, most likely with either a joystick or a keyboard in my hand.

I’m looking forward to a new tomorrow.