Surgery

This is Howie, the lion I got from Central Utah Surgical Center. Yes, I named him after Howard Wolowitz, and yes, I did in fact sing "Soft Kitty" to myself in Howie the Lion's voice. :)






So if you recall from this post here, for about the last year and a half, I've been struggling with food getting caught in my esophagus. It's very scary. In that post I remarked that I would be set for surgery after our trip. Well, long story short, I never went in. Instead, I taught myself to completely relax whenever the food got stuck, and I could work it down with a drink. I convinced myself that that would be okay for awhile (you have to understand...I am terrified of anything medical. I hate going to the doctor, the dentist, getting blood drawn, etc. I'm a wuss of the highest order). But recently it's been made clear that something had to be done. So we get me all set and scheduled for surgery.

It wasn't any special or particularly scary procedure. In fact, everyone told me I had nothing to be nervous about. I believed them, but I was still anxious. Even when they told me I'd get the kind of anesthesia where I'm under enough to not feel anything but I'd still be able to hear and understand what they were saying to me...that only calmed my fears a little bit. I told you... I'm a worrier. Then something great happens. Since my mom works at the place and knows the doctor personally, he says she can come in and be with me. Richard still had to wait outside, but it did help me a lot to know Mom would be there. So what if I'm nearly 29. My mom is super-comforting.

So then yesterday comes. We get to the Surgical Center and fill out the paperwork and all the employees are doting on me because I'm Lynda's daughter. They call me back and I get my blood pressure taken and the IV put in. They try to take my mind off that by asking about our upcoming trip. I'm feeling pretty good because I figured the IV would be the worst of it.

I don't know how much later, but I wake up in the operating room. I'm choking and gagging on the thing in my throat, and several people seem to be yelling. I couldn't comprehend what they were saying, or even that their shouts were directed at me, but before I can figure it out I'm out again. I wake up in Recovery with Mom on one side and Richard on the other, and they're both staring at me. Mom then tells me that I stopped breathing and that they were shouting at me, she was in my face yelling and smacking my arms, and the nurse pulled my hair, all to try to get me to breathe or hear them. They had to give me some sort of anesthetic reversal, too. Scary stuff, man. Glad I wasn't awake for that.

So the outcome: I did have a stricture that was catching the food, but that wasn't all. The walls of my esophagus are thick, indicating an allergy. When we mentioned that we had previously discovered my apparent lactose intolerance, he agreed. So, cut out dairy. Then he said I had a hiatic hernia, made worse by some serious acid reflux. So, watch the acidic foods. He also told me not to drink pop anymore. I was pleased to tell him that I stopped drinking pop last year and can count on one hand the number of times I've had it since February. He liked that and I liked that I felt that I did something right. :)

Anyway, I'm home now, and though I'm very sore, I'm optimistic. I don't feel that I have to be scared of choking at every meal now. I don't have to be worried I'll ruin more date nights with this stupid thing. I just have to be patient and let my throat heal. I'm so thankful for my wonderful husband who takes such good care of me. After I woke up in Recovery, he held my hand, spoon fed me Jello, held my juice box, and wiped away my tears. After coming home I asked for some jello, and now our fridge is full of it. I asked for some juice, and we now have bottles lined up in our pantry. He holds me and rubs my back and does and says whatever he can to alleviate my fears. I'm a lucky girl. Also, I need to thank my friend Joshua, the self called "Nurse Ratched #2." He's sweet to keep asking what I need or if I'm okay.

So, that's that. I am really glad this surgery is over with. I'm grateful that even though it's not considered major surgery that the doctor and nurses understood I was scared and took care of me. I'm thankful that they let my mom in. The doctor apologized because I stopped breathing and the nurse apologized for pulling my hair. The way I see it, they have nothing to be sorry for. Wasn't his fault my body responded to the medicine that way. And really, if pulling my hair makes me start breathing, pull away. So, just in case they read this, thank you Mom, Dr. Thorpe, Deanna, Jenna, Kevin, Shawn, and Susie. You guys were great but I don't ever want to do it again.