The Surgeon has surgery.

I was recently advised by my brilliant boyfriend that I was actually an okay writer and should consider a blog.   Here is my attempt to show you how I see the world and entertain you with the life that I am blessed to lead.

Let's start with the reason I actually have two minutes to do this.  Three days ago I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.  Yes, I am a 30 year old ob/gyn resident and had pesky gallstones that at random moments in my life caused a burning pain (like a small spewing volcano in my right upper quadrant) to other times causing nausea and vomiting that for the most part lasted less than one hour at a time.   Then the pain came with nausea and vomiting and lasted 10 hours and then 5 hours and so on and well you don't look very professional in a shirt hugging a trash can crying in pain.  So that is how we got to today.

It was very different to be in the backless drafty gown and not scrubs in my base hospital.

My only previous surgery prior to this was my wisdom teeth extraction in graduate school.  I walked to the surgery center from my apartment.  I was then yelled at by the receptionist because I didn't have x-rays as they had not been sent over by my dentist.  I started crying, cried all the way to get new x-rays, and didn't stop crying until they gassed me to help me relax.  My roommate picked me up and I was eating egg drop soup that night.  

I was very worried about crying before this surgery much like I did when I had my wisdom teeth out.  But for those who were working in the ER Tuesday, I was kind of out of tears from my visit then.  It is very scary to be alone in a city 8 hours from family, 12 hours from your boyfriend, and be sick, surgical sick.  I cried from the moment I left my rotation on Tuesday until hours after I arrived in our ER.  It is amazing how much you can work yourself up.  I cried about not knowing how I was going to get home that night after IV narcotics, I cried about missing work and other residents having to work harder, I cried about crying in front of the staff in the ER, I cried because I thought the ob/gyn residents would not know I was in the ER until the workup was done, but thanks to gyn ER consults, they were all there to see me getting wheeled in from ultrasound.  I cried some more.  I cried because nausea returned despite IV meds.  Then they gave me IV phenergan and I woke up the next day at 11am with no tears.

So with the help of a little pill bottle and a box of anti-nausea butt rockets I made it to Friday where I was surrounded by the most comforting people in the pre operative area (my fellow residents, my attendings, and the OR staff, faces that I have seen daily for the past 2 years and 2 months).  And I did not cry... That I know of. 

And then it all gets a little fuzzy... I had refused all drugs to the point of being wheeled back to the OR.  I wanted to meet my anesthesia provider before I was given something that would alter my memory.  I meet her, and she hugged me, gave me a warm blanket, and then I woke up in recovery with no pain, no nausea, and for a long time couldn't lift my limbs.  I was a little concerned that they didn't do surgery because nothing hurt.  The surgeon came by and said it went well, and all my friends appeared again as blurry faces but I remember them.

I don't know if other people even wonder how they acted when they woke up, but I do.  Everyone says "oh you were fine" but I wish I could have seen for myself and know that I treated them as well as they treated me.  And that perhaps I did not say anything too silly.  And then in the back of my mind I think, did I feel a bit of gas before going in but all this wondering makes we weary.     

After being awake, there were still a few things to take note of.  

You might forget to breathe with one Percocet.  

Looking at photo albums is helpful for remembering to breathe, but the tripping on narcotics part was a little wild and perhaps Daniel, I need to take another look at those Africa pictures. 

Naps in the lounge are always fun.

Yogurt is always a good dinner.

You know that dream where you show up to work naked.... yeah.  I think this counts as living it.

My favorite part about the whole day was getting my clothes back.

At this point in time, if I had another gallbladder to spare, I would do it again.