Though I've lived through a number of previous surgeries, I recall waking up from this one in a fog unlike anything I'd previously experienced. If my awareness was intact, I would say they had already moved me to the room I would call home for the next 24-48 hours. The fact is I spent nearly exactly 34 hours in the hospital from the time I walked in the door and checked into the surgery department to the moment they wheeled me out to my car. It all happened rather quickly.
Just as I was coming out of my deep, anesthetic fog, I became aware that another patient was being wheeled into my room and taking up residence on the other side of my curtain. Noting the use of the word "my", I realize that it was intentional. Initially, I felt violated and offended that I would be made to share this moment of my life with a total stranger - a fleeting thought before drifting back into a deep sleep . . . little did I know.
It seemed to me that Arie and Koen were by my side in a flash. I think I even recall Koen hugging my head like we'd agreed he'd have to do. I was so groggy, in and out of sleep that I remember nothing that went on around me for several hours. I only remember a button being placed in my left hand, which I was supposed to push for morphine as needed. Wow, was it needed! I pushed it every time I became conscious and could see the soft green light of the button glowing. There was another button in my right hand in case I needed to call the nurses station. I tried not to use that one too much, but occasionally I had no choice. At the time I hoped I wasn't bothering them. Isn't that funny? I know some patients can be a real pain and I was determined not to be one of them. I hope I used the button sparingly.
Eventually, the anesthesia began to wear off more completely and I realized my mouth was very dry. They wouldn't let me have water, but eventually gave me a sponge on a stick to moisten my mouth. I had been put on a no liquid/no food diet. Initially, this was an issue for me because I really wanted something to quench the horrible thirst I was having. My loving husband had gum in his pocket and I talked him into giving me a piece. It was heaven! It gave me saliva and I suddenly felt like an actor in one of the gum commercials where I was the one receiving the "burst of flavor"! This euphoria last maybe 15 minutes before the taste began to make me nauseous and I spit it out. Confessing my indiscretion about the gum to my doctor, he gave me an anti nausea medicine and I forgot about the dryness of my mouth or the rumbling in my stomach. I spent the rest of the evening in an out of sleep, not even thinking about food, but fantasizing about ice chips.
Arie eventually left to take Koen for dinner and home since work would come early in the morning. I was a little thankful for the time alone until I became acutely aware that my neighbor had three family members with her. I tried to ignore their conversations, in part to be polite and in part to sleep. It became increasingly more difficult to tune-out the sounds of their voices as a creeping awareness came to me that she too had undergone a bilateral mastectomy. I was overwhelmed with an urge to talk with her and searched for the most considerate opportunity to inject myself into their conversation.
She had her husband, sister, and father at her bedside. I think she was 60 years old, but didn't look much more than a day over 45 even right out of surgery. She seemed to be handling coming out of anesthesia better than me and I was self-conscious that I wasn't being a "good patient". At about 8:15 pm, the hospital pa system announced visiting hours had come to an end and asked all visitors to leave. I was relieved that maybe now I could sleep, uninterrupted by the conversations going on beyond my curtain and by the staff in and out of the room. I faded into the darkness where there are no dreams, no consciousness whatsoever. When I came around everyone was gone and the room was quiet save the occasional beep of an IV machine.
Now, for anyone who would imagine that a hospital is the place to go for rest, even after a surgery, think again! My roomie and I each had our own set of staff caring for us. It was Grand Central Station! Much to my surprise, this is where and when my healing would begin, between the lights flicking off and on, the buzz of blood pressure cuffs, rushing water in the sink, or flushing water in the toilet, and all the words pouring from the mouths of a seemingly endless stream of one new stranger after another. In the midst of it all, a beautiful thing happened - I made a friend, my roomie, Carolyn.
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