Pre-Surgery #1

1 Jan

It was finally my big day of surgery.  I had been waiting for 2-4 months, and surprisingly, I wasn’t feeling scared.  First of all, it would be ridiculous to be afraid, since I was the one who WANTED to do this.  It’s not like I got sick or something and HAD to undergo an operation.  Secondly, I was more afraid of the drive to KC than anything.

I had to leave at 5 am to get to Overland Park by my surgery check-in time of 9:15.  I left early, because the surgery was on a tight schedule and precisely timed with my injections.  I was also unsure if the bug truck would make it, AND I knew I would have to deal with the morning traffic in the city.

I arrived to the hospital at 8:45, about a half hour early. Normally, you would think people would be happy that I was early.  The nurse was super disgruntled and rude.  She was like, “You know your check-in time isn’t until 9:15, right?”  I replied, “You know, I had to drive 2 hours to get here, right?”  Stupid bitch.  She kept complaining to co-workers right in front of me that she had to check in TWO patients at the same time.  Big fucking deal, lady!  At every place I’ve worked, I’ve had to deal with multiple customers at once—even at campus dining services!  Besides, if she really couldn’t handle it, all she had to do was ask me to sit in the waiting room, which by the way is there for just that purpose—waiting.  The bitchy nurse did not make it a good start to the day.

One funny thing about my check-in was the girl in front of me. See, they tell us to wear loose clothing, and it was the crack of dawn.  I had chosen to wear pink and purple PJ pants, with a pink tank, and a pink short jacket.  My hair was in pig tails.  The girl ahead of me was there at her correct check-in time and filling out paperwork.  She was wearing pink PJ pants, a pink tank, a pink short jacket, and had her hair in pig tails.  We were dressed as twins!  How embarrassing.


My Back Yard (Bummed)


A kind nurse led me to a back room containing 16 or so curtained “rooms.”  Patients, nurses, receptionists, and doctors wandered around the open area.  The nurse took my vitals (no surprise, I’m fatter) and led me to my curtained room, where she told me to remove all my clothes and put on the hospital gown and socks.  I tied the 3 closures on my gown and awkwardly stood in my curtain-way, if you will, waiting for someone to give me further instructions.  The next nurse had me lie in the bed and put an IV (set in the off position) in my hand.  She wanted me to sign paperwork-AFTER the (creepy) needle was in my wrist. That was difficult to say the least.  A couple more people came through and had me sign various documents.

Everyone seemed very concerned that I pee before surgery.  I hadn’t been able to eat or drink the 12 hours prior to surgery, and my STS disallows public bathrooms, so I didn’t have to go. They insisted.  A (male) nurse had to escort me, probably to make sure I didn’t fall and sue the hospital, and also to carry my IV bag.  My nurse walked me into the middle of the floor, holding my IV bag.  I was really freaking out, wondering if he would have to go IN to the bathroom with me.  This would be a nightmare, and I wondered how I would be able to go in front of some man-stranger.

In my frenzy, I wasn’t really thinking about anything else.  When we were about in the direct middle of the open area, my nurse grabbed the back of my gown and said, “I’ll I’ll take care of this for you!”  I totally mooned the whole damned place!  My closures apparently left me more than exposed, and I had been so worried about peeing that I had forgotten my naked booty.  I tried to play it cool and hide my mortification by saying, “I guess I don’t know what’s going on in my back yard.”  This is pre-drugs, by the way.

Now do you understand my mood for this blog-ha ha.  Oh—just to finish the story:  My nurse held the back of my gown closed and my IV bag, as we finished walking to the bathroom.  I was still concerned that my nurse would have to watch me pee, but luckily, he waited outside while I did my business.


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