The Surgery - Part II

I remember waking up to someone moaning. I kept hearing it over and over. By the time I was able to push my eyes open, I realized, being the only person in the recovery room, that it was me. I don't normally moan in my sleep. I've had a few nightmares where I scream and kick, but moaning is something conscious to me. I'll do it if I don't want to get up and my husband is trying to drag me out of bed or something. When I had the scope done the previous year, I didn't moan when I woke up from the anesthesia.

Great, so I've woken myself up. I sort of roll my head to the left side, and I can see out the window my bed is pushed up against. The tops of the trees are swaying a bit against the stone walls of the building. I roll my head to the other side, and see a nurse moving around.

When the nurse realizes I'm awake and looking at her, she comes over and tucks my blanket around me a bit, and asks me how I feel. I realize my throat hurts very badly. I sort of garble out that I'm thirsty - in German no less. I suppose living in a country for 2 1/2 years sort of ingrains itself in the language portion of your brain. So the nurse asks if I'd also like some crackers. I'm hoarse but I nod and get out a "Ja." She says she'll make me some tea and get me some crackers.

While the nurse was gone, I peeked at my arm. It was lying straight down by my side on the table, and was heavily wrapped up and looked about 3 times its normal size. I tried to feel it, but didn't feel anything. I tried to see if my fingers would move, but I couldn't make my brain get those phalanges moving.

When the nurse came back she helped me sit up with the blanket wrapped around my top like they do with sheets on TV and in the movies. Then she handed me a cup of tea, told me it was chamomile and left a little plate of 6 biscuit crackers. She told me to go very very slow, and then left.

My throat was is so much pain. It was like the two times I had strep when I was younger. It was on fire, dry, and extremely difficult to swallow. I went slow drinking the tea, even though I really wanted to down it. I made it through about half my cup and half the crackers when the nurse came back followed by my husband. The nurse tells me that he kept bothering the nurses about me, asking for updates and when he could see me. I smiled at him. He leaned over and gave me a kiss and asked me how I felt. I told him my throat was killing me.

While the nurse was gone, I finished my tea and crackers, and my husband sat with me. I can't remember if we talked much or not, but he told me that he didn't sleep. This was amazing. He had been sleep deprived since December of 2004, when he joined the Army. He slept everywhere. On his days off, he used to come to my work when we lived in Kansas, and sleep in the car.

I don't know how long I was in the recovery room, or how long it took to drink that tea and eat those crackers, but it felt like not too long after they brought back my husband, that the nurse brought in a wheelchair. She and my husband helped me off the table and into the wheelchair, then bundled the blanket around me. Germans aren't worried about modesty as much as Americans are, but they didn't want to wheel me around the hospital in my bra and freeze me to death.

Before I had gotten into the chair, the nurse gave me the sling and had my husband put my arm in it. It's not a normal sling like us Americans know or are used to. And, you know how American slings are worthless pieces of crap? Well, like a lot of other things, America needs to take a page out of the German book and get this sling in action. It's basically a big long piece of strap fabric, with two loops on each end and a big cushy neck rest in the middle of the strap. You put it around your neck like graduation cords, and you stick your arm into both loops so it hangs. You're arm can't fall out of it like the American ones, and it's super comfortable. It does the job so much better, and is much easier to use.

So anyway, I've got my sling, I'm in the wheelchair, and I'm all bundled up in a blanket when a male nurse shows up. He's actually in a set of white scrubs - believe it or not (since no one else seems to wear them!). He speaks relatively good English, and starts wheeling away. The nurse had loaded down my husband with all my belongings, so he was trailing behind with his arms full of stuff. We get to the "service" elevator (basically, the only elevator that takes you to the upper levels where the patient wards are) and smash in. We go to the 5th floor (really the 6th) and head into my new room for the next 3 days.

The nurse showed my husband where the lockers were in the room, and he put my stuff away while the nurse helped me out of the wheelchair and into the bed. I had a roommate next to me; she was watching TV and eating dinner. Her arm too was in a weird sling - but hers was different. It had this huge foam block in an L shape, and strapped over her back like suspenders. I think that she had some lymph nodes removed or something because she also had a drain. And, I remember at some point, one of her doctors talking about lymph nodes.

So, while I got settled in bed, my husband tells me he's really starving and needs to go get something to eat. He says he'll be back in an hour. While he's gone the male nurse gets me comfortable in bed, brings me one of my t-shirts that I've packed, and helps me put it on. I distinctly remember it was my Hello Kitty t-shirt that said "Geek Chic." Then the nurse asks if I'm hungry. I tell him that I am, and that I'm thirsty. He says he'll bring my dinner and disappears.

When he comes back, he has a try with soup on it, crackers, and a glass for water. He sets it down on my table, and moves the table so it's over me. I smell the soup and instantly feel nauseated. He tells me I shouldn't eat if I feel nauseous so he moves the tray away from me. He takes my arm out of the sling, props my arm up on a mound of pillows, and hooks my catheter up to a drip.

When did I get the catheter?

The nurse leaves and I just lie back in my bed and try not to feel sick. When he returns, he has a barf bag and lays it across my lap, and then he leaves again.

After about a half hour, I decide I should try to eat something. My tummy is hungry too, not just sick. I wasn't allowed to eat anything since the previous night. It's been 24 hours. So, I roll the soup back over. It's just broth anyway. I take a few small spoonfuls and just sit back.

Big mistake.

I start puking uncontrollably. I wasn't able to get the barf bag in time, so it's all over my Hello Kitty shirt and the blankets on my bed. My roommate says she'll call the nurse and starts pressing her nurse button repeatedly. She tells me I'll be okay, the nurse will come.

When the nurse shows up he's furious. I finally had stopped puking and told him that I felt I should eat something. He yells at me about how I shouldn't have eaten anything. I told him that downstairs, the nurse had given me tea and crackers. He's more pissed.

I'm confused. The nurse is actually angry with me and is yelling at me.

He literally left me to stew in my own puke. When my husband returned I told him what happened, and he got me out of bed, took me to the bathroom and sat me on the toilet. He said he'd get a change of clothes out of my bag, and ask the nurse to change my bedding. I must not have waited very long because he was back in the bathroom just a few minutes later with clean clothes. It was a struggle getting me out of my clothes and into new ones. We had to take my arm out of the sling, and it went shooting across my body like those old saloon doors. Just waggling back and forth. It was the weirdest feeling.

When I was all changed, my husband took me back out and my bedding had been replaced. He got me all comfortable in bed again, but he had to leave. He had to go home and get some sleep. He kissed me goodbye, and left me watching MTV on my personal TV monitor. The Foo Fighters were doing a live show, and I fell asleep watching them.