Once Again, Sarah is Disappointed by the Medical Community

 

5:00AM.  Froedert Hospital check in. Don't I look thrilled?

Good morning!

So this week I continued the sage of the plugged ear (I've had a plugged ear for almost a year and the ENTs in my life couldn't figure out what to do) with a little procedure called a tympanomastoidectomy.  It's a thing, look it up.  Basically, for the last 11 months I've had a mystery substance in my right ear, plugging the ear and making it hard to hear.

5:10 AM. Still looking excited.
I was super excited (no I wasn't) about the surgery. I was going to be able to hear again! YAY!
I did have one request, and it's a request I make of any medical professional who removes something from my body:  I WANT TO SEE IT!
  Who let me see what came out of me? Let's go back:
Tonsils, age four. Nope.Mole removal, age six.  NopeCyst removal, age 23.  Nope.

No, not that Substance.  Probably.

After several procedures to drain the ear, the med team in charge of my ear (two ENTS, one of which is a moron, one primary care physician, who had no idea what was happening, an Urgent care doc, who said it was allergies, and a super specialist who finally agreed to operate after multiple trips to his big, shiny office.) we all decided (they decided) I should have surgery.

Baby: age 26. Let me see the baby, but not the afterbirth.

Baby, age 29.  Ditto.

Tooth extractions, all three of them: Nope.

Knee replacement.  Big Nope.

And now, here we are.  No one used the same word for what they removed, which was weird. Some called it an infection. Some called it inflamation.  Some just called it goo.  (okay, that was me.)

Tuesday was the big goo removal day.  Hubby drove me to the big hospital half an hour away from home.  We had to be there two hours ahead of kick off, so we had to be in the hospital no later than 5:15AM.  Do the math backwards. Yeah, it was early. And dark.  Also, they told me I couldn't take anything by mouth two hours before I arrived. Which means by 3:15AM I could not eat or drink anything.

Hubby was going to take off two days for this, but decided since surgery day was pretty much only going to involve him sitting around doing nothing, he decided to work in the waiting room. Clever hubby!

We got a great parking spot in the underground lot. (I mean, it was the middle of the night.) Hubby did notice that there was a plastic vodka bottle lying on the ground next to where we parked. Some kind of Omen or just random litter?

Vodka is a clear liquid, right?

Check in was fun. it is shocking how many people in SE Wisconsin needed surgery at 5AM on a Tuesday.  In true Midwest fashion, I started a conversation with the woman behind me, a lady with a smoky southern accent. She'd broken her pelvis and tailbone and was allowed to drink clear liquids much longer than I was.  She had coffee! 

As we chatted, I learned this about her:  1) Her surgeon was a week away from having a baby, and the lady was convinced the surgeon would go into labor before the surgery was done.  2) The woman did not get my sense of humor and clearly believe they were removing a nest of spiders from my head.

I wasn't in the check in room long before they called me in.  As Hubby and I walked toward the doors, this lady looks at me from across the very full waiting room and yells "Good luck with your spiders!"

Alrighty then.

They got me settled into a bed in Bay 9.  Apparently, they don't do blankets anymore. on the bed was this large, inflatable paper bag, inflated and heated by a hose that was connected to the wall.  Lucky me, I was having multiple hot flashes so...yeah...that thing got turned off right away.  (Post op, here at home, I really could have used it.)

Fun fact: You have to get to a surgery two hours ahead so that everyone...and I mean EVERYONE...can come in, ask you your name and birthdate and what you're having done.

This was fun for me.  I mean, I gave the right name and age, but every time I was asked what they were doing, I changed the answer.  Maybe they're removing goo. Maybe they're cutting out a nest of spiders.  Everyone got a slightly different answer.

I especially enjoyed the visit from the chaplain.  I mean, I have my own pastors (which we'd actually forgotten to alert).  When i was in for my knee, that chaplain was amazing. She said a prayer that made us both cry.  This guy...not so much.  I get it. It's early. He probably hadn't had coffee yet.  But there was no praying, nothing like that. He sort of came in, asked what I was having done, and left.  I may have told him I was having a parasitic twin removed. I'm not sure.

I did enjoy the visit from the anesthesiologist. He was Norwegian (I asked) and we had a great convo about the Winter Olympics. My surgeon showed up and after I told him he was extracting mystery substance from my head, he joined in in the skiing conversation. That was fun.

I'm not saying my anesthesiologist is in this photo. But I'm not saying he's not.

We also talked about my fears regarding being put under. Given how I almost DIED the last time, I wanted to be sure Mr. Norway understood that he had to be careful. I have things to do, books to write, TV to watch after surgery.

He assured me that everything would be fine. Then he turned me over to his assistant, Pria, the world's tiniest adult. Pria had a very think Indian accent, which was hard for me to understand given 1) I could only hear out of one ear and 2) I sometimes have issues understanding the Indian accent.  (Had she been Hispanic, I would have been fine.)  She asked me something about blood.  She asked me three times. I finally gave up and looked at Hubby who repeated the question:  if you need blood, is it okay to give you blood?

Um, yeah!  Again, books to write, TV to watch!

Now, the biggest thing that surprised me was that I had to get naked. Like naked naked.  That was a surprise for me because, well, they were operating on my head.  Surely I could keep my underwear on!

Nope.  It all had to come off.  They gave me one of those really great feeling gowns (open to the back) but it was too small for me. COME ON! It's Wisconsin. I'm not that fat! Ya couldn't get me a gown that actually fit?

They told me I had to be naked because they needed the surgical room to be as sterile as possible. Also, they didn't want anything in the way in case they had to put a catheter in me.

That made me soooooooooooo happy to know.

The nurse stuck a motion sickness patch behind my ear. She told me, "If you touch it, wash your hands right away. And for the love of all that's holy, don't let your pets near it."

Fun!

They also made sure I peed. Like that was the biggest issue they were concerned about, after asking my name and birthdate.  Did I pee?  Do I need to pee?  How about if we go try to pee?

I'm a people pleaser, so sure, I let the nurse guide me down the hall, and around the corner, right past the big door that leads to the waiting room.  (It was open, so everyone there got to see me in my ill fitting gown.) I did my duty and was led back to my bay, again, right past the open waiting room door.

Then it was time to go to the surgery room.  It was Pria's job to push my bed to the operating suite.  Pria, the tiniest adult, was tasked with pushing my bed (which outweighed her) and me (which REALLY outweighed her) around roughly seven corners, down four long hallways and past no less than two dozen empty beds parked in the hall.  I was literally looking for the internes from Grey's Anatomy.

It should also be noted that part of Pria's job was to announce that she was coming around a corner, by announcing loudly, COMING AROUND.

Pria, the world's tiniest adult, did not have what one would call a big voice.  But she did okay. Until we got to the door of the surgical room.  That's when she kind of lost control of the bed a bit and lowed into a line of mobile vital taking machines.  I didn't make contact, but she apologized profusely. At least, I think so. I couldn't really hear or understand her.

Once in the surgical room, I had a job to do:  I had to help scooch myself from the rolling bed to the operating table.  That operating table was NARROW.  I was mildly concerned I'd scooch too hard and shoot myself right off the table onto the floor.  

I was very careful. I didn't want Pria to have to pick me up.

The Norwegian was there, and he and Pria had a conversation that I cannot believe either one understood.  But, I blacked out at some point, so I guess they understand each other's accents.

Waking up, I checked for three things:

1) Did I have a catheter?  Nope.

2) Did I have bruising on my breastbone from them trying to wake me?  Nope.

3) Could I hear out of my right ear?  Nope.

Well, two good things anyway.

How cool am I?

Hubby came in and watched my oxygen levels, reminding me to breathe when they dropped below 90%.  We are a good team. He reminds me to breathe and I don't die because of it.  He also had to keep telling me not to touch my eyes.  Apparently, after surgery, I have a strong need to rub my eyes.


The woman who rolled me from recovery back to my pre-op bay was a lovely Black lady who had a voice that carried.  "COMING AROUND!" she yelled.  I told her she was really good at that.

Once in my bay, hubby and I waited. There was no parade of people at the end. Just a nurse who checked me out a couple times.  I must've passed because the next thing I near, they were allowing me to put clothes back on. I thought about stealing the gown, but I didn't.

It was about 11:30 at this point and me, being me, I found the TV remote and turned on FRIENDS.  (Which is on not quite 24 hours a day on various channels.)  I find the show comforting whenever I'm out of sorts. Like when I have half a bra on my head and everyone's telling me to stop scratching my eyes.

Transport came to get me and take me down to the parking lot level.  This young Black gent, lovely young guy, clearly loves his job. I asked him about it. He told me he gets 15, 000-16,000 steps a day and the hospital gives thema free pair of Brooks shoes every year.

The transport guy was so nice, he actually rolled me right to the car. He wasn't supposed to, but that's how much he liked his job.  He and hubby got me into the car and we were off home.  We did do a quick stop a Starbucks. I didn't want anything, but hubby got a big reward for being such a great Hubby!

Also, if the Bradley couple leaves the house, a stop at Starbucks is almost a guarantee.

Finally, home, and settled on the couch, I was ready for a long nap. Hubby was going to pick up my meds, including pain meds, but we hadn't gotten the call from the pharmacy. Fortunately, I had several tablets of Oxy left over from my knee replacement. Same milligrams and everything.  So Hubby could finish his work day without having to run out again.  Meds could wait until Wednesday.

hubby and Skippy had a play to go to Tuesday night.  I can't make this stuff up.  I was determined that they go and have their night out, so Peaches agreed to come sit with me. We had fun. We ordered Taco Johns crunchy tacos.  It was the first food I'd eaten since 8:30 PM Monday.  I inhaled 3 tacos faster than anything. We watched that documentary about America's Next Top Model, and I got to watch her favorite podcast as well. All in all, a fun night.  It was almost like nothing happened. Which is probably the semi expired oxy talking.

Nighty night!


Wednesday brought with it the time to change the dressing!  

Nothing sexier than that hair, am I right?

We, and by we I mean Hubby, changed the gross gauze in the weird little water polo hat.  

Exactly the same.

Wednesday, I started my meds.  Yep, they put me on antibiotics. Oh joy.  I asked them which one they were going to give me: The one that made me crap liquid or the one that burned out my taste buds. They asked if I had a preference (I'm allergic to the normal ones but I also have bad reactions to the not normal ones) I told them to surprise me.

The great part of Wednesday was the dairy free lasagna my good friend Sheila made for me.  It was delicious and so much better than then Taco Johns tacos I'd been surviving on.

Wednesday night I realized they'd given me super-secret choice number 3:  The one that makes my hands and feet itch. AWESOME.  A dose of Benadryl, and Wednesday was over.

Thursday, yesterday, was rough. I was definitely blue and on the edge of tears. My ear still hadn't opened up, my pain level was higher, and my hands itched.  

Reading the after surgery summary, I find out that the ear may not open up for several weeks to SEVERAL MONTHS.  WHAT???????????????????????????????

Also, Thursday I could take off the athletic cup strapped to my head. That was nice, except everything around my ear itched. Fun fact:  the entire right side of my head is still numb, except when it itches.  No idea what that's about, but I'm like Cousin Eddy with his metal plate.

The other big thing on Thursday was...I GOT TO SHOWER! Shower, change clothes, all of it!

I had to "wash my hair gently" and wear a Vaseline covered cotton ball in my ear bowl (It's a term they used. I like it.) while in the shower.  this is when the Bradley couple discovered they own 3, count them 3 jars (all opened) of Vaseline. 

I'm not pretty, but at least I'm clean!

Today, Friday, I'm in better spirits. My ear is still clogged, but it feels more like stuff that's just waiting to fall out.  Can't wait to see what comes out in the coming days.  A drop of blood here and there right now, nothing that dramatic, but a girl can dream.

But how was I disappointed?  Yeah, guess what?  NO ONE sent me a picture of what they removed from my head. NO ONE!  I asked everyone...even Pria.  No one took a picture no one let me see what they removed.

Did they even do anything????  How am I supposed to know?

I'm supposed to go back to work on Monday.  I can't even think about that right now because making myself presentable in an office setting, given what I'm working with at the moment, well, we'll see.

So there you go. The ear surgery is done. Now we move forward in the hopes that everything clears up and I'll be able to hear properly soon.  

And if anyone from Froedert is reading this, I still want that picture! I'll get over the disappointment, but I'm still waiting.