Day 2 Procedure and Update 1

I got back from the hospital from the big procedure just a bit ago. Called my parents to say I'm doing fine and the boyfriend baked some chocolate chip cookies from the stellar dough I prepared a few days ago. Just finished two piping hot chocolate chip cookies with a glass of milk, and I'm doing okay.

I was notified yesterday that a different doctor might take my surgery as my scheduled surgeon was handling a "very complicated" case before me. I worried that this change-up might negatively affect my experience, and I honestly think it did.

Things felt disorganized, or like no one was in charge. Most upsettingly, I don't remember meeting my doctor. If I met him, it was at the point where my drugs had kicked in enough that I don't remember it. It seems like a quick pre-op visit would have been appropriate.

I also never saw any of the amazing women doctors who were supposed to be on my surgery. I assume they had to stay with my attending doctor for the more difficult case. The nurse didn't make that clear yesterday when she called.

I've talked a lot with people about how there's this horrible tendency in the medical world to forget that patients are people. I felt very much like a case number, juggled from one doctor to another, with a lot of confused nurses, anesthesiologists and prescription orders mixed in. I was thankful that my boyfriend was there to (1) help me keep everything straight that they forgot and (2) support me as I started to feel panicky about how disorganized things appeared.

Preparing and Pre-Op

We stayed up late last night to try to adjust our bodies to sleep in late (not that that's hard for us). The thought of being up all morning, worrying and thirsty, did not appeal. We stayed up til about 2 AM, watching Cool Runnings (which I believe I watched post-op tonsillectomy 1994) and talking. I woke up at 8:45 AM to take my last painkiller, fell back to sleep and then woke up at noon to pull myself together for surgery.

We arrived on time and checked in, which was a strange process. There were no chairs or waiting area. I simply stood at the desk and signed papers that said I didn't have a will prepared and who to contact in case something happened to me.

I was immediately brought back to my pre-op room with my boyfriend. I changed into a gown and then lay down on the table while he pulled a chair up to my side. I cried for a bit, still feeling overwhelmed and emotionally exhausted. My boyfriend hugged me and then squeezed some laughs out of me by mocking the hospital's ambient channel that featured images of waterfalls accompanied by muzak. My shared bathroom with the next-door pre-op room was locked, and I desperately awaited my nurse's arrival to unlock it for me.

From the get-go, it appeared that things were disorganized. Our nurse was supposed to show up shortly after we settled in and didn't. Then, as I changed, an anesthesiologist opened the door and came in while my backside was still as bare as can be. She excused herself, and when she returned, she was baffled not to find my chart or paperwork there. I explained no one had come by yet.

She explained that I would receive an anti-anxiety drug before leaving for surgery and then I'd be in twilight sedation (MAC, the paperwork had said: monitored anesthesia care) during the procedure. I had been very scared of twilight anesthesia, but I was completely and utterly passed out. More on that later.

Shortly after the anesthesiologist left, the pre-op nurse finally arrived. She oozed a lack of confidence that set me on edge. She took some blood and then hooked up my IV, at one point remarking as she fumbled, "Well... hopefully this works."

While the nurse hooked me up, a resident anesthesiologist walked through the door and began to introduce himself and explain my sedation.

"Uh, I think Dr. So-and-So already explained this to me," I quickly said, baffled.

"Yeah, she's already taken care of that," the nurse added without looking up.

"Oh, okay then," the resident anesthesiologist smiled awkwardly and walked out the door.

I glanced at the boyfriend with a look of "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

The nurse explained that I would need a RhoGAM shot as my blood is Rh-negative. She urged me to remind my recovery nurse of this fact.

I also needed to receive a Depo-Provera shot for birth control until I receive my IUD. My nurse looked through my paperwork, confused, and asked if I was absolutely sure I was receiving that shot today. Wasn't I receiving it at my 2-week follow-up appointment? Nope. I'm scheduled to get it at recovery. So she said she'd go ahead and put the order in accordingly.

She then explained that my surgery was most likely going to be pushed back at least 45 minutes, so to go ahead and relax.

The boyfriend and I passed the time talking and watching some of The Office and CNN. An OB/GYNE resident came in and introduced herself as well, explaining she'd be working on my case. She was nice, quiet, checked my IV and left. It was nice to meet at least one of the surgeons, even if just briefly.

Yet another new anesthesiologist came in, introduced himself and said it'd be about five more minutes before he'd administer the first of my drugs through the IV. He was the first person I came in contact with who seemed really confident, and I suddenly felt much more at ease.

When he injected the first dose of drugs--the anti-anxiety, I think--into my IV, he explained that it'd be like me taking 3 shots at the bar. "If you do that kind of thing," he said with a smile. My boyfriend asked if he got one too. The anesthesiologist quickly quipped, "Oh yeah. We all get one of these beforehand."

Almost right away, I began to feel hazy. My nurse and the resident returned and I was prepared to be wheeled away. I reached my hand out to my boyfriend who leaned down and kissed me before he was ushered out of the room. I was wheeled out after him.

The last thing I really remember is wheeling down the hall and the male anesthesiologist asking me if I was feeling doped up. "Very," I responded.


Twilight to Post-Op

The next thing I remember is waking up in the operating room. There were many people milling about and lots of sounds like things being thrown away. I must have said something because someone said to me, "We're all done."

"Already?" I asked blearily. "Yep," whoever it was said, "All done."

I was vaguely aware that I felt slightly crampy. I found myself in a recovery room and recognized that there was a man and a woman at the curtained door leaving. "Thank you!" I called out to them. I have no idea who they were. That guy might have been my doctor, but I thought at the time it was the male anesthesiologist.

The post-op nurse rustled around getting my room ready for me. She cracked open a disposable heating pad (Really useless. I was pissed that I had been told not to bother bringing my own electric heating pad. I'd recommend bringing one from home just in case.) and punched a few things in the computer.

My hazy drugged-up brain made a few connections. Surgery done. Recovery room. Something to tell recovery nurse. What was it? RhoGAM shot!

"Have I gotten my RhoGAM shot yet?" I asked the nurse. "Or does that happen later?"

In a tone that sounded like she was exasperated and placating me, she said, "Just lay back, okay?  I'm going to take care of it." I felt brushed off and felt like saying, 'Hey, your co-nurse told me to tell you that, okay? I'm just doing what I'm supposed to do,' but I was too out of it for crankiness.

She gave me an extra disposable heating pad for my back and then went to retrieve my boyfriend from the waiting room.

When she returned with him, the recovery nurse explained that her shift was ending and she'd grab my new recovery nurse.

The new recovery nurse brought with her narcotic painkillers, which were a godsend in the face of useless heating pads. As she reviewed my chart, I asked about the Depo shot.

"Are you getting one of those?" she asked. I looked at the dry erase board behind her where two notes were written for my case: "RhoGAM, Depo."

"I'm supposed to, yeah," I said, feeling really frustrated at this point.

"Your doctor didn't order it for you," she said. "Are you sure you aren't supposed to get it at your two-week follow-up?"

"Yes."

"Hmm... Okaaay," she said putting the paperwork down. "I guess I'm going to have to take care of this." She alluded to my going home soon, though at that point I didn't feel like I could sit up straight.

When she left, I finally let my frustration go in the form of some tears. My boyfriend agreed that things were strange and disorganized feeling. We were given some time alone where I began to feel much better, munching on graham crackers and sipping water and ginger ale.

After about two hours in recovery, my recovery nurse came back with the RhoGAM and Depo shot. While she put the RhoGAM in my IV and then gave me the Depo shot (butt shot! haven't had one of those since I was a kid), my boyfriend got our car from the parking garage to pull up in front of the hospital.

When I was alone, I slowly dressed myself and tried to process everything. I had been waiting, hoping, the whole time I was in recovery that I might see my doctor. I wondered if I had met him when I was drugged up and also wondered why I hadn't seen him during pre-op.

A wheelchair and nice dude came to wheel me away from my recovery room, past the nurses' station where both my pre and post-op nurses wished me good luck, and then into the elevator. I felt uncomfortable and made chit chat about the weather with the nice dude.

Once in the car with my boyfriend, I broke down in tears. I felt like I had been holding in emotion all day, just to get through everything. I am still processing what I most felt. Sadness, relief. It all came out as tears, regardless.

Mostly, I felt so confused by what had happened. I had just had an abortion, and I had no idea who had performed it on me. No one had ever said that everything went okay. I just assumed so because here I was in the car with my boyfriend with some pads and a heating pad to take home with me.

We sat there for several minutes as I let this feeling release and my boyfriend assured me that everything was okay with me but that what had happened was not okay. I have a post-op appointment in two weeks with the nurse and other professionals who I saw yesterday for my laminaria insertion and last week for my consultation. I plan to talk to them about the frustration and disappointment in how things were handled today. I'll be interested to hear whether I did meet the doctor in a drugged-up haze or not at all.

At the very least, my cramping is very minimal right now. The painkillers are helping me tons, as are my electric heating pads. My boyfriend and I ate some soup that my mom made for me and watched a movie together. I'm pretty sure I will sleep really, really well tonight.