Yikes. So, I’ve had a lump on my tonsil since December. After three rounds of antibiotics and a negative strep test, the otolaryngologist I was referred to recommended removing both my tonsils and my adenoids.
Yesterday we arrived at the hospital at 9:15, got checked in, and then immediately taken back for a pregnancy test (negative) and to get undressed. The nurse (who I really liked but whose name escapes me right now) started my IV saline drip and spent a few minutes chatting about kids, careers, etc.
Then…we sat. For an hour. In my bare-assed hospital gown.
My anesthesiologist came in and we talked about his son’s metal band for a while – and I advised him that my failed epidural hadn’t given me the best impression of anesthesiologists. He laughed and told me I must’ve had a hack, and that he’d be taking much better care of me.
I hate being out of control in any circumstance, but the idea of being naked on an operating table in front of who knows how many people, my mouth wedged open and my tongue pulled out with a metal clamp…well, that’s terrifying.
When another Nurse came in and put what she called “happy juice” in my IV, she started to wheel me out before I had a chance to say goodbye…my mother stopped her, and gave me a hug and a kiss before I demanded to see Michael. He only got to squeeze my hand and smile before I was on my way to the OR.
Sometime between saying goodbye and getting to the operating room I was out cold. I do know that they intubated me and were pumping anesthesia via my airway during the operation. The next thing I remember was waking up, choking on a tube in my throat. They pulled that out and put on an oxygen mask but I was drifting in and out, trying to close my eyes against the bright lights in post-op.
The first sensation I noticed was one of congestion, that still hasn’t gone away. The only comparison I can come up with is the heavy postnatal drip from a bad cold. I feel like I constantly need to swallow something at the back of my tongue, or clear my throat.
After that the pain hit, and I was given two IV doses of Fentanyl and a hydrocodone syrup. Wheeling into the recovery room, I was already nodding off. Michael and my mom were waiting for me (or maybe they came in after? I’m not sure) and they both tried to get me talking…no such luck. Between the sedatives and my pain, the most I could manage was a mumble asking about Mattie and that no, I didn’t want to watch TV.
To be continued…drifting off again