My energy levels are going up and down, so I'll tackle this by pieces. It's strange to be writing for a more experienced set of readers on this forum than the first-time-around folks in the other areas here.
Got to UW Med Center early in morning and they got me ready. Some of my worst surgery recollections are being parked on a gurney in a cold hallway, partially sedated and slowly freezing -- Surprise! They've decided that warm patients do better than frost-bitten ones, so I get this pneumatic blanket inflated by heated air -- That's progress!!
When I wake up, if it can be called that, it is evening and it's been a long day for the Docs, eight to ten hours.
The recovery rooms are dimly lit with both lighting and with the spill of numbers of computer monitors for each patient, with various and sundry alarm noises as they come on and are either ignored or dealt with, depending on the severity. There's got to be a better way to do that -- The alarms become background noise to the staff and an incredible annoyance to those of us trapped in the beds -- I am very strongly reminded of some of the scenes from Apocalypse Now -- Now I'll have to re-read Heart of Darkness.
Tubes hanging out all over me, NG Tube for feeding, which seems to be jammed -- Doc is called back in and readjusts it after checking X-ray -- They don't want this one to be accidentally pulled out, so there are three sutures through my septum to secure it, so now I am tensed whenever anyone gets near it because a slight pull evokes sharp feelings!! Still being a bit under the anesthetic weather, I am now confusing the sutures with the traditional burial at sea ritual of taking the last stitch through the canvas and septum in case the poor dead sailor isn't quite dead yet -- I keep checking that I am wrapped in blankets, not canvas.
Apparently, they had to do the tracheotomy because there are is a tube connected below my Adam's Apple and Darth Vader noises are coming from there.
Drains are attached to the incisions made to remove the lymph nodes, plus another drain from under the massive splint and bandages on my wrist. These all have mild suction on them to increase drainage and folks come in to examine the results and log them.
My mouth is full with this 'new' tongue and my lower teeth look like deck cleats at a busy marina with all sorts of suture lines tied off.
The final tube is my urinal catheter, which apparently has a small balloon on the end so draining my bladder is automatic.
The skin harvest site on my thigh, where they took skin to cover the forearm harvest, has a metallic patch over it (which turns out to have been stapled in place). At some point, when they were moving me between recovery and ICU, someone tried to yank the sheet straight but it was tangled in the patch -- Hard to communicate with trach stuf in place, but apparently I was successful, using a whole lot of body language and Darth Vader noises!
