Thursday – Pre Operation Consult and Afternoon at the Movies

Another 6:30am pre wake-up alarm stirred me from a restless slumber. Still yet, despite being jarred back into consciousness, the sight of my beautiful wife is a more than adequate consolation. With each passing day, it seems that choking down the morning volley of prescription pills gets exponentially more unpleasant. Even the drinkable yogurt that I take to coat my stomach, that I once enjoyed on my daily commute into work, has become associated with one of the worst parts of my day. An hour later, I recognize that it is time for me to get in the shower, but my joints still feel like they have been lubricated with sand. My torso is sore from sitting at an odd angle for hours during the night. That odd angle, which is carefully achieved using a fleet of pillows of different shapes and sizes, keeps my torso at a nearly 45 degree angle. The elevation helps me to breathe during the night and inspires far less anxiety for Mandi, who can hardly manage a wink of sleep when listening to my irregular breathing otherwise. The problem is that this “solution” does not properly support my back or neck, and sometimes results in an oddly maintained position during the night. Upon standing I cannot help but to list noticeably to the left, and combined with my slow and staccato locomotion I could easily qualify as an extra for The Walking Dead. I am hoping that my new bed will provide a better sleeping position. It doesn’t get delivered until Friday, so no point in disassembling the pillow fortress yet.

The kids made it off to school in a timely manner, and Bode even walked Scarlett to class, at her request. He held her hand and nearly dragged her to class, but it was still the sweetest thing to witness. He really is growing up and I hope he always looks out for his little sister. What a good boy he is. Mandi and I walked back home and changed into our walking clothes, determined to get a dog walk in before my 10am pre-op consultation. We made it quickly enough, but I realized that either I am now a slow walker or Mandi has started walking much faster. We got home just in time to change again and head out to the surgeon’s office.

Dr. W’s Office – Pre-op Consultation

Traffic was good, but parking was awful. Since we had left no fat in the schedule, the circus of cars attempting to park and unpark in the parking structure resulted in us being 5 minutes late to our appointment. I hate that. As it turned out, our tardiness was inconsequential. To my surprise, we were not meeting with the surgeon, but with her office’s head nurse, Nurse C. There were no other patients present, and after a 30 second delay, we were ushered into our waiting room. Nurse C. sat down with us and began asking all the pre-op questions. Which drugs am I taking? Do I have any allergies? Have I ever been put to sleep with general anesthesia for surgery before? Et cetera. She went over the schedule for the surgery on Monday. Pre-op registration is at 5:30am Monday morning, with the surgery starting at 7:30am. Only one visitor allowed in pre-op. No food or drink after midnight on Sunday and, the bombshell, no medication after midnight. I grumbled at this last one which caught her attention. After some negotiation she said that the doctor would be ok with taking something for pain with very little water and I agreed to reserve it for emergencies. Overall the game plan is good, although an earlier wake up time than I was expecting. Based on my experiences rising from sleep, I thought it could be difficult, but Mandi reminded me that the earlier hour would actually work to our advantage. Not as much time for the Advil to wear off before waking up. Smart girl. Reason number 3,452 that we keep her around. Nurse C. then did her best to give me a pre-surgery pep talk which had Mandi and I exchanging some quality eye rolls. I am all for the power of positive thinking, but stop short when it begins to defy all reality and logic. At this point Mandi and I have realistic expectations about the outcome of the surgery, that are optimistic without being delusional, and it’s an attitude that will serve us well for the next steps, whatever they may be. I thanked her for the encouraging words, and we headed off to pre-register at CMH, and do some blood work.

CMH – Making New Friends

We entered CMH through the Ocean Tower side of the hospital. This is the newly built wing of the hospital and it’s actually very nice. After getting our wristbands at the front desk, we passed to the left and through a door specifically marked for Pre-Registration and Lab Work. As per the usual, we filled out repetitive paperwork that asks you for the same name, address, phone number, and birthdate that every other form has. I genuinely wonder how many of these similar pieces of paper the hospital has from me. Mandi and I find a comfortable spot in the waiting room but only she gets comfortable. My name is called before I have settled in; not a bad thing. I walk toward the open door that leads to the back part of the clinic, and see Nurse 1; a short and stocky woman, mid-sixties, with her long and frizzy hair pulled into a basic ponytail. She made no attempts to tame her mane, permeated by grays, in a rebellious sort of way. She wore a mask, not like a bank robber but the medical grade type, but I could see her smile in her kind eyes. “How are you doing today?” She threw out the same question that so many people do by reflex. “I’m doing pretty good” I responded. And it wasn’t a lie, I was actually doing pretty good, on a relative scale. I followed her down a short hall to a room where Nurse 2 waited. She was younger, maybe by 15 years, but had the stench of inexperience. Within the first 10 seconds of entering the room, body language told me the she was subordinate to the first nurse. I sat in the phlebotomist’s chair and prepared for them to do their thing. As soon as I was settled, Nurse 1 spoke. “Well, I have to say that you are very handsome.” Well this appointment is off to a good start. I thanked her for the compliment. Very nice of her to say, and after all she is the demographic with which my looks score highest. Post-menopausal women. She explains to me that Nurse 2 is getting re-familiarized with blood draws and so she will be guiding her steps. Great, so I’m a training pin-cushion. I have had enough people take blood from me recently that I can spot a rookie a mile away, and this one was green. She fumbled around with her vials, four in total, and dropped a length of stretchy gauze onto the floor. She looked back to Nurse 1 and asked if she should “wipe it off” and was told to throw it in the trash. They have a million replacements. I shuddered inside, knowing that this person would soon be sliding a thin piece of sharp metal into my body. She nervously prepped my arm for the needle, wiping the area with too many alcohol swabs. Her anxiety was palpable, and only served to increase my own. Finally, the poke. I braced for it. Hey, not that bad, lady. I relaxed a bit, and she collected the first vial. Perhaps it was my mistake in trying to make conversation while she collected them, but when she got to the fourth vial, something went wrong. “Uh, it’s not filling with anything.” A slight tone of panic in her voice. Nurse 1, who had been distracted doing something else, became involved and jumped out of her chair. “Don’t pull it out!”, she advised Nurse 2, who had already started to pull it out. I winced, the needle was now clearly off its target and destroying the surrounding tissue in my arm. Blood began to drip from the entry point. Oh this is going well, I thought to myself. Nurse 1 took over and grabbed another vial, connecting it and then fishing inside my arm with the needle. It felt exactly how it sounds. A minimal amount of blood collected itself into vial number four, which Nurse 1 decided was enough, even though it was maybe 20% of the volume in the others. I wasn’t about to complain. “Ok, you’re all done!” Nurse 1 reassured me. “Sounds good to me” I said “Hey, at least I didn’t pass out!” I added. After the shitshow that had just taken place, I’m sure there are others that would have. That’s when Nurse 1 responded “Oh and it’s a shame too. With how good looking you are I would have been happy to resuscitate you!” I guess we both missed an opportunity. I packed up my things and escaped to the safety of the waiting room.

Always Time for Bros

Mandi was of course tickled by my story and we both laughed together about it as we walked to the car. I couldn’t help but to point out that the situation would be far less humorous had Mandi been the one getting the blood draw, and a male nurse the one offering her the mouth-to-mouth treatment. Cheers to double standards. We headed South toward the AMC theater in Thousand Oaks, for our 12:40pm showing of Deadpool & Wolverine. We needed to grab something for lunch also and were running a little short on time, but we were also passing by my brother’s workplace at Reid’s Appliances in Ventura. Naturally, I thought it best to use the seven minutes we had to spare to stop in and say hi. We parked and walked into the shop, and as luck would have it, Dan was busy with a customer. A particularly crabby customer, from what we could discern. The type of person that is not exactly angry, because they have nothing to be actively angry about, but just carries a smoldering hatred for life that manifest in a perma-scowl that would suck the joy out of near any situation. We hovered around for a few minutes trying to gauge how long he would be, and then determined it was more than the 4 minutes we had left. I briefly inserted myself into their conversation to say hello while Lady McScowl burned holes in me with her laser vision. Worth it.

Lunchtime

The rest of the drive went well, with virtually no traffic to thwart our plans on a Thursday around lunchtime. Mandi and I had formed a consensus about lunch, deciding that we would indulge in an old time favorite, Hot Dog on a Stick. Perhaps 50% of the appeal was that we haven’t been there for about 10 years, another 50% being that we both absolutely love the lemonade, and the remaining 50% is that we had about six minutes left to order and eat our food. We enjoyed our lunch in that way that you do when riding the curve of diminishing satisfaction. Starts out with the phase of opening the bag of food and first bite or two, eyes full of delight and nostalgia, oil, nitrate filled meat, and melted cheese filling each bite, taste buds alight after tasting that which is normally forbidden. Enjoyment level 100. Phase two is the following several bites, which consists of three quarters of the meal. Taste buds now more accustomed to the overplayed and exaggerated flavors, each morsel significantly more guilt-laden than the last. Enjoyment level drops exponentially to 30% at the end of this phase. Phase three is the point at which you are no longer hungry in any technical sense, and instead you are eyeing the spread in the manner of a crime scene detective trying to piece together how this massacre happened. Your memories of previous times that you have made this same mistake all come flooding back at once, but a whole six minutes too late. Enjoyment level -50%. Except for the lemonade. I would do that again.

Non-Movie Review and Collection of Kids

It had been a long time since Mandi and I watched a movie at a theater without kids in tow. As we thought about it, we couldn’t remember seeing any movie by ourselves since the kids have been born. We sat through the movie in the theater with the upgraded seats, complete with plush upholstery and motorized recliners. Under most circumstances, this is a huge luxury and beats the alternative. But in my current condition I struggled to find a position that was comfortable and left the theater with a pain in the back of my ribs that took a few hours to go away. It was distracting, but not enough to ruin my enjoyment of the time. As for the movie itself, I will not launch into a full review complete with spoilers. I will only say that I enjoyed it, laughed hard enough to legitimately hurt myself, and it was the perfect movie for me at that moment. We left to pick the kids up from a friend’s place where they had been playing with their friends in the pool. We spent some time by the pool talking and hanging out, and I made a note to myself of the time; almost 5pm. I felt great. Better than I had in several days. My home nurse (Mandi) suggested that I dial back my dosage of Gabapentin, with the suspicion that it was making me drowsy. Perhaps it was the daily three hour nap at about 5pm that I had been taking for the last three days that tipped her off. The adjustment seemed to have made a huge difference, since I felt amazing at that time and did not require an evening nap at all. I enjoyed the time by the pool and was just grateful for the entire day, filled with activities but not enough to knock me on my ass. We came home and I was more than happy to harass Mandi while she made dinner, an evening tradition in our home.

And so we proceed into the weekend, surgery date scheduled, time and instructions in place, and nothing but time to pass until we get there. I have a few family and friends that I am excited to see between now and Monday, along with my in-laws coming to stay with us on Saturday. My anxiety about the surgery grows with each passing minute, but my conviction and resolve grows at the same rate. I am focused now on enjoying every moment between now and then to the maximum extent possible, and carrying every bit of that joy with me into that operating room. Thanks again for all of your support and prayers.