Vacation from life

With all of the garbage I have been dealing with in the last month or so, I desperately need a vacation. A vacation from the ICU, a vacation from my health problems, a vacation from my life. It all happens in three days. I can't wait! My husband and I are going on a one week vacation to the Mayan Riviera! In just over 72 short hours we are going to be sitting on the beach with Mai Tais in our hands! I don't plan to think about anything. Do you like Pina Coladas? I do!!!! The only thing that is a little sad (on so many levels) is that I am going to miss my "girls" (ie. tha cats). They will be in good hands, though, so that is ok. Wish you all were here (soon, anyway)!

Hard to be angry

I have been dealing with a lot of anger in the last week or so. It all stemmed from what I found last Saturday when I was finally able to take off the bandage. I thought I had though about all of the possible complications that could happen. What if I bled, what if I got an infection, what if they had to put me to sleep, what if they lost my airway, what if the meds made me puke... but I wasn't prepared for what actually happened. I took off the bandage, and what did I see? The incision was on the wrong side! On the correct side of my body, but on the wrong side of my breast! I thought I was going to be sick. I never thought that could ever happen.

So, I have been ruminating over this for a week. I couldn't get in to see my surgeon until today. I have ben thinking that maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. Maybe I just don't understand the surgery, or something. And yet at the same time, I was angry. How could this have happened to me? Did she not read the ultrasound? Couldn't she feel the lump? I sure as hell could, and still can! Then at the same time I was feeling guilty. I shouldn't be having all of these awful thoughts about her when there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Today was finally the day when I could find out what really happened. In a way, I feel vindicated. I am not on crack. They really were on the wrong side. They really did not take out the right lump. I don't know what they took out, but it wasn't the right part. I am allowed to be angry and have every right to be.

Except after talking to my surgeon it is hard to be angry. She completely admitted fault for everything, took full responsibility, and apologized profusely. She even made a couple of jokes. She felt really awful, you could tell.

I keep thinking about how I would feel if the roles were reversed. I know I would feel awful. And as horrible as this is, and it is a medical ERROR (not a complication, but a mistake), it is just horrible that it happened to me. I have had all week to be angry and upset and horrified, but now I am over it (mostly) and just need to go back, have a second surgery and get on with my life.

A new appreciation

Had my surgery yesturday. It was all sort of strange. We showed up at 11:30, only to be told that my surgery wasn't actually until 2:30. So there we sat, waiting. It seems to me that one does a lot of waiting in the healthcare system. Nothing comes without some kind of wait. I hate waiting.

Luckily, my husband was there. He was bored, I could tell, but true to his nature he kept me entertained and in good spirits with stupid comments and funny stories. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't have been there. More waiting, I guess.

The nurse who checked me in was a little strange. She was really nice, don't get me wrong, but said some things that were weird. She was talking about breast lumps and how some of them turn to cancer, and how sometimes people were surprised, and how even if one didn't have a family history it could still be bad, etc. I felt like she was essentially saying to me, "Oh, that lump in your breast, it is totally cancer. Didn't you know?" She definately didn't make me feel any better about the whole situation.

Going to the OR was weird, too. First the porter wouldn't let me take my MP3 player in when I KNOW it isn't a big deal. I won of course. Then he parked me outside the OR where I did more of that whole waiting thing. Unfortunatley it was right in the thick of things and people I know kept coming by and looking at me sort of funny, as if to say, "what is she doing here? Shouldn't she be GIVING the anesthetic, not GETTING it?" That was how I felt, too. The waiting there was definatley the worst waiting of all. The anticipation was awful. I kept going over all of the bad things that could go wrong. The only thing that kept me from jumping off that stretcher and running out the door was that silly MP3 player that they almost didn't let me bring in. Soothing music can do so much.

Once things were finally underway, I felt like such a loser. I tried really hard not to move, and not to react, but pain is a powerful thing. I was awake, but had some fun drugs on board, but you can't control how your body reacts to certain stimulations. I will spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say, that I remember a surprising amount and wish I didn't, but still would rather go this way than have a general. The most hazy part was the end - how did I get back onto the stretcher? When did they put on the bandage? Who put my MP3 player in my lap? Who was it who actually drove me to the recovery room. All very strange, not remembering that.

I can't believe how weak and drugged I felt when I got back to Day Surgery. When they finally came by to get me up to pee (they won't let you leave until you do), all I could do was to put one foot in front of the other and focus on not falling over. Success, and we finally got out of there at 6:00 in the evening!

I have a new appreciation of what patients go through. The waiting. So much waiting. What if they had cancelled my surgery after all of that waiting? Why did the nurse feel she needed to convince me that everything wasn't OK? I am sure that all people are nervous, and sometimes I feel like it is worse because I know what is going on, but maybe the fear of the unknown is worse. Perhaps that is why so many people decide to have a general instead of some type of regional.

I am glad it is all over. Thank you to all of you who phoned, sent flowers, or did something special to let me know you were thinking about me and that you cared. You know who you are. I am blessed. I feel so loved.

The doctor becomes the patient

Tommorow I have to have surgery. You would think that with the extensive knowledge I have, I wouldn't be worried or nervous at all. Well, that is not the truth. I am probably MORE nervous because I know exactly what can happen and what can go wrong! I think, though, that I am more worried about the stuff that I DON'T know about - what happens while I am waiting for surgery? What happens after? How much pain will I be in? Will I be sick after? These are things that I haven't had to deal with from the other side.

I have a whole new appreciation for what our patients go through. Just getting this all set up was a nightmare. First, I had to see my family doctor. Then, the wait of when do I go for an ultrasound. Then, what do I do with those results. Then, the wait for the apointment with the surgeon which I have no control over and have to miss some of work for. Then, the wait for the appointment for surgery, which again I have no control over. Let me tell you switching call at the drop of a hat is not easy. You would think that all you would have to do is say the words "surgery" and people would immediately jump at the chance to help you out. Not so. It did get taken care of though. Then, getting a preop from my family doc on such short notice was damn near impossible! The only way I got in at all was I was put on the cancellation list. What a pain all of that was.

So, now I am on call for the ICU, and dreading what the morning will bring with my surgery. Yes, it is just day surgery, but I am still worried. The unknown is always worriesome, at least to me (and some of those who I am closest to). I plan to have a big meal just after midnight. Then clear fluids until two hours before (I know better than all that NPO after midnight garbage). I will still be hungry, though, and cranky too. My poor husband who is going to have to deal with me after the fact.

This all gives so much more meaning to the phrase, "physician, heal thyself." Sometimes we don't have much choice in the situation.

Rollercoaster ride

The ICU is a rollercoaster ride. There are good times, like getting to do a new line and being successful. There are bad times, like not knowing the right thing to do. There are good times, like makeing new friends in the nurses and the other residents. There are bad times, like losing a patient.

The hardest times are when young people come into the unit. Old people you can at least accept that they have had a full life and have their family around them. Young people are just getting started with their lives. Some have family, but they are young. It is so hard to see their family around them. I always identify with them. I think that that could be me or my husband.

The best times are when you finally transfer a patient up to the ward who has been there for a long time and you didn't think was going to do well, but surprises you. It is sometimes amazing how the human body can be so resilient.

I am of the belief that we don't really have a lot to do with what happens to people. Yes, there have been amazing advances in the world of medicine, but I am not sure all of it makes that much difference. If it is your time, there isn't anything that anyone can do. As my father-in-law loves to quote, "the physicians job is to amuse the patient while nature takes its course". So true.

I do like the ICU. There is always stuff to do, always new people and procedures, and always a goal. Sometimes you just have to deal with unpleasantries, but that is just part of the endless circle of life.