The morning of the surgery, I was set to wake up at 4:30am to have some toast, jelly, and water. Only, around 4:10am, I woke up and had to rush to the bathroom. When I got to the other side of the house, I was faint, weak, and started hearing the tunnel closing in on me. I hollered to Lydia and asked her to come help me and bring me a cool cloth, etc. I was eventually able to get through the faint feelings and have a little food and fall back asleep to try to shorten the food-deprived day ahead of me.
Fast forward to around noon; I was starving, tired, nervous, and just really wanted to put this all behind me. When we finally go to the back and talk with the nurse who was going to put in my IV, the nerves really started kicking in. Leading up to this day, of course I was nervous, anxious, didn’t know what to expect. The nurse who put in my IV couldn’t have said it better, “We all feel this way when things are beyond our control.” At the time, I did not realize it, but that it exactly what a good chunk of the anxiety was about on the day of the surgery. I knew deep in me everything’d be okay; I prayed for Divine guidance for the doctors, nurses, me, Lydia, I trusted it was all going to be better in the end. But the process was still nerve-wracking. That nurse, Crystal, was very caring and let me have my process and work through it, while being kind and compassionate at the same time. I remember wishing and wanting after Izzo’s Illegal Burrito nachos. I kept telling Lydia that’s what I wanted to eat for dinner.
The person who put the betadine/iodine on my leg and foot and wrapped it up was rather mechanical/technical and came in to the room, did her task, and left.
Laurie, the nurse that would be with me during the surgery and the nurse anesthesiologist, Jodie, were kind and gentle with me. They introduced themselves and were friendly but factual. After they got done asking questions and telling me stuff, they asked me if I had any questions, and I, jokingly, said, “When can I eat???” They didn’t get it, but Lydia did, and for me, I decided I’d make humor out of it instead of crying…
As I was rolled to the operating room, my teeth were chattering and I had a thin blanket and sheet on top of me. I was very nervous about the IV in my left hand even though it finally wasn’t stinging anymore. When it was time to move from my gurney to the operating table (thank goodness they had a sheet on the stainless steel table), nurse Laurie asked me to move over, and I was almost paralyzed with the thought of trying to use my left hand to get onto the table; she reassured me the needle was out of the IV and it wouldn’t hurt, so I trusted her and moved over. Then she came back with another warm blanket and peeled back the other covers I had and placed it closest to my gown-covered ffrigid body, then added the others back.
The next thing I remember Jodie was at my head and told me she’d be at my head during the entire surgery monitoring me. She said she’d be putting a tube down my throat and it might be a little sore following surgery, then she told me she’d given me something to help relax me, and did I feel it – needless to say, that was the last thing I remember from the operating room.
When I “came to”, I was in a big room with lots of curtains in it; the nurse Traci that was with me was kind of mechanical, bored, and seemed to be short with me. Of course, I was still “out of it”, so my perception may be a little off, but I tend to trust my gut and intuition and it seemed to me she was “just doing her job”… I remember early on having a horrible itch in the middle of my splint mid-way down my leg and asking her, “Do you have a pencil or something I can use to itch it??” She was very matter of fact with me and told me I couldn’t stick anything down my splint, which was totally okay. I remember asking her a lot of questions and she just kept giving me answers, and at some point, I remember acknowledging this fact and she actually said some patients ask more questions than I was asking.
As I laid there a few more minutes, Traci asked me if I wanted a nerve block. I remembered Ang telling me about this earlier, and I told the nurse I would do whatever she recommended. As I talked with her, in my anesthesia-induced state, I found out from her that I’d need less pain medication if I took the nerve block. So I decided to do it. Next thing I remember, there was a guy at my left leg poking around. I asked him what his name was, because he did not introduce himself to me at all. He said his name was Dr. Chapman. He poked around on the back side of my knee for a little bit (it hurt, I am not going to lie), and then when he found some specific nerve or something, he started banging on the bottom of my left foot with his left hand; I guess seeing if it was the right nerve, or seeing if I could still feel it, I am not sure. Just as swiftly as he was there, he was gone.
Then Lydia joined me. I was so glad to see her and the thoughts of nachos were so far gone from my mind. I was slurping down apple juice and trying to stay awake; a technician came and said she’d pick up my prescriptions if we wanted her to. The pain was pretty bad and a new nurse gave me some Tylox with my saltine crackers and apple juice. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled to the outside of the building and loaded into the back of the Venza. We ordered sweet potatoes and rolls from Texas Roadhouse and drove over to pick them up; I was feeling rather nauseous at this point. I had the window down and was trying to bite back the sensation. Finally, we arrived home; Lydia gave me my crutches and I emerged from the car; and almost immediately, I was really nauseous again. This time I knew I wasn’t going to be able to contain it. We managed to find a bucket outside in the carport and … I’ll spare you the details. Needless to say, I felt better after that. I was hungry for dinner (we had A1 Beef Roast I’d made in the crockpot the day before, garden-fresh green beans lightly steamed, and sweet potatoes) and the rest of the night is quite a blur.
While part of the aim of this post is to recount the day of my surgery, part of it is also to showcase how I feel about those in the healthcare/wellness field. What I really want to say is – your patients know when you’re checked-out and when you’re checked-in; they know if you are in there doing things mechanically; they know if you’re emitting healing, life-affirming energy or if you’re just there.
The energy of the nurses, doctor, and other personnel mattered. It absolutely mattered. There were nurses that I encountered on the surgery day who were just there, mechanical, looking at machines, numbers, paperwork; not even concerned there was a warm body in the room. Then there were nurses, anesthesiologists, etc., that acknowledged me (and my fears) and had compassion and empathy for where I was at the moment they were with me.
I read this on Oprah.com about a brain scientist who had a stroke and said this of her recovery process:
Jill says she could feel the energy of the people who walked in her room and could even tell which nurses made her feel safe. The nurses who would make a connection with her, simply by making eye contact or touching her foot, made all the difference. "As opposed to someone who just comes in, deals with the machinery, ignores that there's even a warm body in the bed," she says. "I didn't feel safe in that person's care." ~Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor, brain scientist
When I read this passage, I instantly connected to it. I felt the same way about my surgery – I remember telling Lydia about the nurses who were nice and those who were just rather mechanical, checked-out, etc. – and I remember thinking at the time it was occurring: “Why are these people in this vocation if they have no bedside manner?” The idealist part of me has these thoughts. The logical side (and spiritual side) of me knows that the answer to that question is in the question – it’s not their vocation, their calling – it’s just what they do.
This whole process, this process of injuring my foot, living with pain for months, coming to the point of pre-surgery, getting through the surgery, and now truly on the other side of this process has changed me. Although I’d already decided to change my life and follow my calling, this “curve ball” has pushed me even further toward having the time to really determine what my calling is. And I know it may ultimately change/metamorphosize as I continue through my journey, I know that right now I am on the right path. I am called to help others facilitate healing within their own body, mind, and spirit. This foot journey has been a significant part of me accepting this.
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