First off, thank you to those of you that sent messages of encouragement regarding my surgery, they meant a lot to me.  Also, I do apologize that I have been away from the blog for longer than I had expected, but I seemed to have been a bit optimistic on how I would be feeling so soon after surgery.  With a sore throat, and energy levels at near zero, I just couldn’t bring myself to write anything longer than a brief email or two.

I am going to ramble a bit about a issue. A person wrote to me unhappy that I only post replies to articles after moderation. Considering the vile language and threats this person used this would is a surprise? This is a Christian website, not a filth site. Those that wish to speak in such a manner may find plenty sites on the web more than willing to gutter talk but not here. If you have a problem with that, so be it. I think anyone reading the articles and the responses know that those answering do not have to agree with me, though I will defend my stance. All I ask is for those responding to keep it clean and civil.

With that off my chest now, and for those that are just itching to know how my surgery went, if not read no further. I will try to keep this humorous.

I arrived at the hospital shortly after 10:00 am on the 11th and walked into the lovely lobby. Very nicely decorated for Christmas, and to my delight a woman was playing hymns on a beautiful grand piano. Went to the admissions desk and was given number 25 and told to wait. It wasn’t long before I was taken into another room asked a few questions, and she told me my surgery was estimated to cost $37,000. I was thinking what kind of vehicle I could buy with that money, a BMW 135 perhaps. She put a bracelet on me and sent me back to the lobby. About 20 minutes later a young man comes to escort me to my next stop. Oh goodie, another lobby, Spartan compared to the main lobby, but it served its purpose.  Another wait, finally, had my vitals taken and sent back to the lobby, the population getting thinner. As people discussed politics I couldn’t help but notice that they centered around guess who? Obama. None of the people were complimentary of how he is handling the current financial circumstances that we are in.  A couple of women stated that Obama was stuck on himself, and didn’t do anything but make fancy trips all over the world. I wasn’t sure if the two were trying to get a reaction from me, they got none. However, by this time I was called to go to the next stop.

Now the fun starts, time to get into a elegant backless gown, which I was told was an exclusive design. Some thigh high white teds and Christmas red socks clashed terribly with the “exclusive” peaches and cream-colored gown. Completing the ensemble knee high navy blue Roman boot like things on my legs, wasn’t sure what they were for but I would find out later. Perfect outfit for that special date with the surgeon.  Now for the best part, getting the IV inserted into one of my veins. Let me put it this way, my veins don’t volunteer, they roll, they dive, and they hide and a nah nah nah you can’t get me just to make things challenging. With two nurses working on getting the IV in and a student nurse watching the IV was finally inserted after about twenty mintues. Someone comes in and says surgery is waiting on me. Already? Surgery isn’t for another hour and a half.

In comes the gurney, and off I go through a bunch of passages, an elevator through some doors into a holding area. Ah Ha! I knew it, my “exclusive” gown was off the rack just as I thought, everyone in there had the same gown. Oh well, I guess they were trying to make me feel special.

More people stopped by to ask questions again, what type surgery I was having. Big name uvulopalatopharyngoplsty, don’t ask me how to pronounce it, they just called it UPP for short.  Now it was 10 minutes after surgery was to start, finally started moving. A young woman said she was the anesthesiologist’s assistant and put a mask over my face. Said a couple of other things and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room with a huge sore throat. I heard a male voice asking about my pain, and then giving me something in my IV, and little latter he asked if that had helped, which was no. After the third dose it finally worked.

A woman came up and asked me if I knew what type of surgery I had and answered that UPP surgery. She asked if I knew where I was, well of course I did, I smiled and said, “Yeah, EPCOT.” She laughed and I said I was at the hospital.

They got me to my room in SICU which was interesting. They connected me to a heart monitor, blood pressure machine, oxygen level monitor and a pump for those blue boot things. The boots massage the legs to prevent blood clots, it felt good for a while then became very annoying after the second day. My blood pressure was taken every hour on the hour, blood sugar checked every 4 hours, respiratory therapist every 4 hours, not to mention the having my temperature taken 4 hours as well, everything was not all at the same time. The alarms on the IV machine kept going off for no reason, which made it difficult to sleep in between all the other interruptions. Not to mention being able to hear all the other alarms in other rooms going off. I think the alarms were talking with each other.

If anyone wanted to a quick escape from his or her room forget that. First, I would have to disconnect all the contraptions that the hospital had me hooked up to, which have alarms that go off with the slightest whim. Next those boot things that have Velcro and very noisy when removing. But the biggest obstacle would have been the nurses placing their work desks, directly in front of my door. I was picturing myself as a football linebacker shoving his way through the opposing side seeing his way clear.  No chance. Guess I have to stay.

Thankfully the hospital is on 12 hour shifts and didn’t have to go through shift change every 8 hours and showing off those lovely stitches in my throat. Listening to what type of surgery I had, what type of medication I was on, also I was able to use the bedside potty and able to pass gas. Do I get a diploma for all of this? The nurses told me the doctor did beautiful work. Did he do needlepoint roses? Now I would consider that beautiful. Nope.  Well, I tell you, I don’t know what it looked like, but it felt like moss hanging down tickling the back of my throat and tongue.

The bed I was in was very nice. One of the nurses told me the bed cost $33,000 dollars. Darn and I couldn’t even take this thing for a spin around ICU that’s no fun. But I have to admit, it was very comfortable. I found a used one on line for $20,000. Yikes even used they are still expensive.  If you want to look at it click here.

As many of you that have surgery know that, some embarrassing things start to happen about 24 hours later. I don’t want to be crude but one might have thought that I had been to a Mexican Frijoles Grandes Festival for three days and tried everything twice, complete with firecrackers. You will be glad to know that the festivities have settled down since coming home.

After the first day, I was on clear liquid diet, chicken broth (low sodium) apple juice and tea. I don’t like tea, and I could only choke on the apple juice. It took all day to drink 12 ounces, not enough to be sprung from the hospital.

Day two doctor put me on full liquid diet. Ensure, oatmeal that looked like a glob of paste, coffee (something else I don’t drink) and milk. Took me a while but I got the Ensure and the milk down without too much trouble. But had to drink it out of a tiny medicine cup about half a shot’s worth.

Lunch was Ensure, cream of chicken soup (watch out for the tiny pieces of chicken, not good if caught in the moss) chocolate pudding. Took me two hours but I got the food down.

Don’t remember dinner, it was pretty much the same thing.

Another night of alarms going off, with the nurses who guard my door checked my IV flushed the line and still the alarm wanted to go off. Back in later have to get some blood. Again the veins wanted to play catch me if you can with the nurses. First one tried, better get the expert, score is now Veins 2 Nurses 0. They gave up and checked the orders, no blood work was ordered or let’s not worry about that. A few minutes later the IV alarm went off again. This time the needle had slipped out. Score is now Veins 3 Nurses 0.  They called for a nurse that that can get any vein. After struggling with the hide and seek veins, score is now Veins 3 Nurses 1!  Later in the morning I felt something wet on my pillow, oh no the IV was leaking. The nurse didn’t think the needle slipped just that the line detached from the whatever the thing is called. Next thing I noticed blood was coming out of the what the thing is called. The nurse said that is a good sign the needle had not slipped just the line detached. Sure enough score now Veins 3 Nurses 2.

I have to say the nurses that I had while in the SICU were so very nice. They encourage me to drink as much as possible to get those throat muscles working again. Now a little a week and a half later, I still splutter a bit, but I no longer use what I call the half-shot glass.

The final night I was moved to a regular room, down more long corridors, that appeared to have been long abandoned. I was imagining them being used in a movie called Zombies Take Over the Hospital, kind of spooky looking. But my new room was very nice, though the air conditioner was a bit noisy. I asked the nurse if there was a marching band around and was told no that is just the air-conditioner. Wow some sound that thing makes, I can hear the big drums, snares, cymbals, sousaphones, trombones, trumpets and so on. It plays different tunes too. I looked out the window and saw my room was across from the football field with a great view of the score board. Hah, now I know why I thought I could hear a marching band. When the game was over, the drone of the air-conditioner did not sound like a marching band, just a soft thud thud thud. The next morning I was able to come home.

I can get by with Tylenol instead of the liquid painkiller. Whatever you do, do not, I repeat do not; use the little syringe to squirt that stuff into the back of the mouth. I can’t say it brought tears to my eyes, more like tears shot out of my eyes like they were putting out a fire. I learned to carefully put in the front of my mouth and chase it down with a swallow of milk.  Each day I find a little improvement, haven’t gotten into eating anything more solid than cream of wheat, but that is okay. I might be eating sweet potato pie (without the crust), and mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving, for which I am thankful.

Hope I didn’t bore anybody, but I will be trying to get back on course soon, as soon as my tolerance for politics returns.  I am finding plenty to say.