Hello my name is Aimee and this is a real life adventure...
After years of putting up with strep throat, tonsilitus, and snoring I decided to do something about it. My physician signed off on a referral to the Ear Nose Throat (ENT) doctor and I was on my way. I saw the specialist for maybe three minutes. He came rushing through the door in a whirlwind with a nurse looking like they lost something and couldn't find it. With a quick look down my throat he agreed that the puffed up, infection-attracters had to go. The date was scheduled and I was on my way.
As luck would have it I was the first scheduled surgery of the morning, meaning I had to be in a hospital waiting room at 5 am. Brutal. My Momma and my baby sister Haleigh held my hand in the waiting room and sleepily waved goodbye when I was called back. After short change into a hospital gown complete with matching socks and a fancy hair net I was set to go. Fortunately I almost made it all the way to my bed without showing off my pale JLo booty in the not-so-modest hospital gown.
The nurses helped me into a hospital bed that crinkled when I moved and started the "prep" work. After a few minutes of tying my arm up and slapping the back of my hand the nurse finally got my veins to cooperate enough to get the IV in. After a million medical questions from three different staff members my Mom, Dad, and sister came back to give me wish me good luck one last time. After a few jokes and awkward silences (my parents still struggle with being in the same room) it was time to go. I was kissed and hugged repeatedly until the nurse prodded my anxious family into the waiting room.
As they rolled me toward the OR I could feel the medication start to kick in. It was all I could do to keep myself from giggling. The happy floating sensation made me grin from ear to ear. Once I was in the operating room my ENT asked if I preferred Nickelback or Britney Spears. I chose the lesser of two evils and in an instant Womanizer was blaring. The last thing I remember is the anesthesiologist and my ENT singing and dancing around the room. I laughed to myself thinking if I never woke up it would be an ironic way to die.
About 40 minutes later I did wake up. Frenzied nurses fluttered around me checking vitals and adding more medication to my IV. Everything was so loud, my ears were buzzing painfully. The anesthesiologist walked by and asked if my throat hurt.
Really? He had just watched a 5'5" balding, Jewish man cauterize the tonsils and adenoids out of my throat.
Just as I was about to make a smart remark an uncontrollable urge came over me. No one had thought about what was going to happen after an hour of continually adding saline solution and medication to my system. I had to pee.
Instead of acknowledging the doctor's ridiculous question I told the nurse to my left that I needed to use the restroom. Puzzled the nurses looked to the dense man at the foot of my bed. He advised using a bed pan since I was still connected to an IV and a heart monitor.
Okay, crazy face.
The nurses started to look around before I started to assure them I could do it myself. There was no freaking way I was going to use a bed pan. I need to go to the bathroom, I said again more loudly than the first time. The nurse in charge informed me once again that I would be using a bed pan.
That was it.
Due to the small capacity of my bladder, when I decide I have to go I have about 120 seconds to get to the nearest bathroom before performing the potty dance. I started to scream. Not five minutes after waking up with the worst sore throat of my life I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Like a broken record I could only repeat two phrases over and over. I have to go to the bathroom, and I am not using a bed pan. The nurses seemed flustered but no one was helping.
I took matters into my own hands and tried to leap out of bed. To my dismay I found that I couldn't move as quickly when heavily medicated, and that forcibly ripping the sticky pads from my chest and back used to help monitor my heart was extremely painful. The nurses finally gave in and started to disconnect me from the many cords stemming from my arms and chest. They helped me into the bathroom and after assuring them I could sit down by myself I was given 20 seconds reprieve from the forceful bunch. I was promptly invaded after I finished and they helped me dress back into the pajamas I had worn to the hospital earlier that morning.
I wasn't allowed to walk by myself, despite insisting I was fine. I was placed in a recliner after the bathroom episode until my parents and sister came to collect me. Haleigh ended up puking at the sight of my demeanor. My matted hair and pale face paired with the nurse ripping the IV out of my arm and splattering blood everywhere (I kind of deserved it...) was too much for her to handle. In an instant I was in a wheelchair and on my way to the car. I tried to tell my Dad how evil the nurses had been, but I was scolded for talking and eventually gave up.
I learned something about myself that morning. Not only can I be extremely stubborn and somewhat obnoxious, I am extremely strong willed. Before going in for the tonsillectomy my Dad had shared with me the story of having his appendix removed. He laughed at recalling how ornery he had been to the nurses. We came to the conclusion that anesthesia brings out who you really are. I'm relieved to learn I am endeared with such qualities, even under the influence of powerful drugs.
I just hope those same qualities will get me through finals week....
The nurses helped me into a hospital bed that crinkled when I moved and started the "prep" work. After a few minutes of tying my arm up and slapping the back of my hand the nurse finally got my veins to cooperate enough to get the IV in. After a million medical questions from three different staff members my Mom, Dad, and sister came back to give me wish me good luck one last time. After a few jokes and awkward silences (my parents still struggle with being in the same room) it was time to go. I was kissed and hugged repeatedly until the nurse prodded my anxious family into the waiting room.
As they rolled me toward the OR I could feel the medication start to kick in. It was all I could do to keep myself from giggling. The happy floating sensation made me grin from ear to ear. Once I was in the operating room my ENT asked if I preferred Nickelback or Britney Spears. I chose the lesser of two evils and in an instant Womanizer was blaring. The last thing I remember is the anesthesiologist and my ENT singing and dancing around the room. I laughed to myself thinking if I never woke up it would be an ironic way to die.
About 40 minutes later I did wake up. Frenzied nurses fluttered around me checking vitals and adding more medication to my IV. Everything was so loud, my ears were buzzing painfully. The anesthesiologist walked by and asked if my throat hurt.
Really? He had just watched a 5'5" balding, Jewish man cauterize the tonsils and adenoids out of my throat.
Just as I was about to make a smart remark an uncontrollable urge came over me. No one had thought about what was going to happen after an hour of continually adding saline solution and medication to my system. I had to pee.
Instead of acknowledging the doctor's ridiculous question I told the nurse to my left that I needed to use the restroom. Puzzled the nurses looked to the dense man at the foot of my bed. He advised using a bed pan since I was still connected to an IV and a heart monitor.
Okay, crazy face.
The nurses started to look around before I started to assure them I could do it myself. There was no freaking way I was going to use a bed pan. I need to go to the bathroom, I said again more loudly than the first time. The nurse in charge informed me once again that I would be using a bed pan.
That was it.
Due to the small capacity of my bladder, when I decide I have to go I have about 120 seconds to get to the nearest bathroom before performing the potty dance. I started to scream. Not five minutes after waking up with the worst sore throat of my life I was screaming at the top of my lungs. Like a broken record I could only repeat two phrases over and over. I have to go to the bathroom, and I am not using a bed pan. The nurses seemed flustered but no one was helping.
I took matters into my own hands and tried to leap out of bed. To my dismay I found that I couldn't move as quickly when heavily medicated, and that forcibly ripping the sticky pads from my chest and back used to help monitor my heart was extremely painful. The nurses finally gave in and started to disconnect me from the many cords stemming from my arms and chest. They helped me into the bathroom and after assuring them I could sit down by myself I was given 20 seconds reprieve from the forceful bunch. I was promptly invaded after I finished and they helped me dress back into the pajamas I had worn to the hospital earlier that morning.
I wasn't allowed to walk by myself, despite insisting I was fine. I was placed in a recliner after the bathroom episode until my parents and sister came to collect me. Haleigh ended up puking at the sight of my demeanor. My matted hair and pale face paired with the nurse ripping the IV out of my arm and splattering blood everywhere (I kind of deserved it...) was too much for her to handle. In an instant I was in a wheelchair and on my way to the car. I tried to tell my Dad how evil the nurses had been, but I was scolded for talking and eventually gave up.
I learned something about myself that morning. Not only can I be extremely stubborn and somewhat obnoxious, I am extremely strong willed. Before going in for the tonsillectomy my Dad had shared with me the story of having his appendix removed. He laughed at recalling how ornery he had been to the nurses. We came to the conclusion that anesthesia brings out who you really are. I'm relieved to learn I am endeared with such qualities, even under the influence of powerful drugs.
I just hope those same qualities will get me through finals week....
