I arrived at outpatient registration shortly after 7:30am on Thursday morning.  There were no other patients, and the intake employee waved me to her cubicle.  I explained that I pre-registered the night before and just needed to pay the $150 surgical co-pay.  We completed this transaction, and Seth retrieved a wheelchair from the lobby so we could make the trek to Interventional Radiology.

We followed the ‘green line’ for five minutes, negotiated another administrative obstacle, and were finally allowed to enter the quiet, private waiting room.

It felt like we waited for-ev-er.  Truthfully, it was probably 20 minutes.  The TV was on – Matt Lauer was in London for the Today show – but I really didn’t care.  The only thing on my mind was the gravity of the day.  The placement of a port that may never come out.

My nurse, Erin, finally retrieved me from the waiting room.  I gave Seth a kiss, and he settled in to watch a movie on his portable DVD player.  (When I bought it for him years ago, I never dreamt I would be the impetus behind so much of its use!)

I expected to be led to a locker room, much like a typical radiology department with ‘gowned waiting rooms.’  This, however, was a smaller, more specialized department where many procedures are performed on admitted patients.  The changing area was an over-sized private bathroom with a built-in bench.  Erin handed me a gown and ‘personal belongings’ bag.  I disrobed from the waist up and tied the gown loosely behind my neck.

When she returned, Erin led me to the large, cold operating room.  I sat on the table, removed my shoes, and placed them at the far end.  She covered me in nice warm blankets – ahhhh.

With a little effort and not as much confidence as I would have liked, Erin started my IV.  It should be the last one I’ll need for a very long time.  I lied down on the table, monitors were hooked up, and fluids were started.

Erin would be managing my conscious sedation, and I told her from the beginning that I wanted to be as knocked out as possible.  Quite often, people are awake and just don’t care what’s going on.  I wanted to be OUT.  She explained that the amount of sedation she can give depends on how low my blood pressure goes.  I wasn’t confident at this point.  I always have really low blood pressure (90/52, for example), and I started to worry it would be too low to sedate me as much as I wanted.  Perhaps this worry cranked me up, though, because I weighed in at a sturdy 112/70!

A surgical assistant draped and prepped me for surgery.  While we waited for the doctor, Erin started me on sedation to see how I would handle it…

I awoke in recovery.  And like every other time I’ve ever been sedated, I asked, “is it over?”  I love anesthesia.  I was pretty out of it for a while.  Erin said she’d never given anyone that much sedation.  (Woohoo?)  The recovery nurse helped me sit up and pushed a drug to make me more alert while we waited for my O2 to come up.

Seth and I left the hospital around 11am and hit a drive-through for a snack.  Around noon, I retired for a well-deserved nap.


5 responses to “ImPORTant

  • Sjoukje

    Where did they put it? Can you see it and feel it? I hope it’s not uncomfortable for you. You were very brave!


  • Craig

    That doesn’t bad at all, at least not nearly as bad as you had feared, right? Congratulations on getting started.

  • Mary Ruggiero

    Thank you for keeping us updated on your journey, Jessica. I am thinking of you often and sending you healing thoughts.

  • Jennifer Scheps

    Thinking of you. Hoping you’re not having too hard of a time with the chemo. If I’m going to feel bad from chemo it usually hits me the 2nd night or 3rd day after chemo. 😦 The first time was rough. Hang in there you’ll make it…it’s just a bumpy and pretty crappy ride.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: