The surgery day finally came. I showered with antibacterial soap as instructed and minimized what I was taking to the hospital in the pockets of a freshly laundered fleece jacket: new mask, eye glasses case, ID and insurance cards and phone. My clothes were comfortable pull-on pants and a button front top…wool socks with clog shoes. We left early enough that the sun came up while we were enroute into the city. The temperature was in the 20s but the place where my husband dropped me off was only a few steps to the door of the building. With the Omicron surge in our area, he was instructed to go home and come back later to get me.
Everything went as expected at first – easy check in because the pre-registration had been complete…the nurse came out to get me and got me into hospital gowns…IV ports were put in….the anesthesiologist came…the surgeon was about 20 minutes late. And then there was a time I don’t remember at all…and I’m in a recovery room…woozy at first and with a headache…drinking a Sprite and realizing that the dehydration headache from the early morning is gone.
Toward the end of the time in the recovery room, things were not as expected. There was more swelling than there should have been. Rather than going home, I would be admitted for overnight. I began to realize I should have paid more attention to the non-optimal outcomes to the surgery and that my phone was running out of power. I was taken in a wheelchair from the outpatient recovery room, through a labyrinth of corridors to a hospital room; on the way there, I noticed every bump in the route and that the swelling seemed to be increasing. The nurse immediately checked the swelling when I arrived ….and realized a hematoma had formed. There was a flurry of activity in the room where the hematoma was drained; they were able to slow the bleeding but not stop it….so back to an operating room where there was another time that I don’t remember at all.
Afterward I learned that while it is not common – it happens occasionally because so many blood vessels into a cancer have to be stopped…one of mine was not seen bleeding during the 1st surgery so the incision was reopened and it was stopped. Then the area was searched further to make sure there was no other bleeding.
Another time in recovery and then back to the hospital room. A nurse had found a charging cable for my phone while I was in the second surgery, but I was too exhausted to turn on the phone until the next morning.
So – not a ‘smooth sailing’ experience. I found myself being very thankful for the doctor recognizing that something might not be quite right…the nurse realizing that the problem had become critical… the professional team that slowed the bleeding and got me back into an operating room to fix the problem.
Cancer is scary and having a ‘bleed’ right after surgery could have been a ramp up of anxiety…but my emotions were almost on pause…in a surreal experience of passively observing highly trained people focused on me…doing what needed to be done. I’ll always remember someone reassuring me, as pressure was applied to slow the bleeding as they moved me from the hospital room to the operating room, that they would get me a clean gown.
