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Busy, then relief
Mar. 21st, 2023 06:32 amPart One
Part Two
I got a call the next day, a Thursday, asking if I could come in on Tuesday for spinal surgery. Maybe I could've, but I needed to get an MRI and blood work and tests before I could have surgery, so it seemed aggressive.
The next week and a half was a blur: partly because of the aforementioned, but all the other stuff I had to do as a mom. I didn't have a will that included my husband, let alone my kids, so I channeled my fear into fretting about that. (Jon actually dealt with it.) I'd never had surgery before, other than getting my wisdom teeth out, so I was terrified I might not wake up, or might wake up paralyzed, even though all the people who affiliated with NYU we knew told us the surgeon had a great rep. I took the kids on an extra-special outing, their choice, to the Intrepid and took cute pictures and wrote them notes for their bar mitzvahs. The Monday before surgery, I went to 6 or 7 medical appointments, including an ENT for the baby, where I held him down while they sent a scope up his nose and down his throat. (Oh the foreshadowing!) I planned the baby's birthday party.
We got it all done and then it was Wednesday night and I was freaking out about not being able to eat before my 1:30pm surgery and my clever husband pointed out it was less restrictive than Yom Kippur. Then I finished my notes to the kids and we took a car to the hospital and got lost within the hospital and they sent people looking for us and I paid an eye popping bill. (No more co-pays for the rest of the year!) I changed into a gown etc., brushed my teeth, kissed my husband goodbye, tearfully, and they wheeled me to the operating room. We passed rooms with doors open where they were hosing the blood down and it was very creepy and I wished the drugs had kicked in already. My OR was a busy place, with half a dozen people prepping stuff - there were a lot of machines! - and me trying to look around but also not distract them, because very soon, inside my spine would be open to the air.
Next thing I knew, I was really groggy and my mouth felt funny and gummy and my husband was there. My mom was too, which was good because he had to leave so the babysitter could go home. I woke the next day and felt okay - walking to the bathroom was the worst chore. My surgeon said I looked great and all my relatives came to visit, in pairs, with drama about hospital policies. They brought me treats - the phrase "New York is your oyster" was uttered. My sister had flown in from Florida, very pregnant, and came by with homebaked pear tart. About 24 hours after the surgery, the drugs wore off and took my energy. (Fentanyl is strong, mmkay?) I spent two more days in the hospital, mostly trying to lie at an angle and wishing the PT/OT would stop making me walk. I scoured the tv system looking for romcoms to watch with my mom. (I do NOT recommend Mr. Malcolm's List - cargo cult Bridgerton.) I read the surgeon's notes, with details like the size and manufacturer of the screws they put in. Apparently they were x-raying me while the surgeon worked?
On Sunday, they sent me home, ( and you probably don't care about this stuff ) my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary and my safe return at Peter Luger's. Two weeks later, I was so happy to go back to work. No more medical appointments! Hahaha
Epilogue: The x-ray at my 2 week appointment was metal AF - it looks like I have some cool necklace embedded in my back.
The pathology of the spinal mass came back as the least risky category one can have, so I got another MRI six months after surgery. (That had a bit of drama - the technician asked me what I was there for, then peered at me and said, "I remember you! I knew what you had last time, but I couldn't tell you." Uhhh.... But when I came out of the MRI machine that day, she said, "Your surgeon did a really good job.")
The surgeon confirmed everything looked good and begged me to go for another MRI in a year, saying I didn't even have to come to his office - just text his nurse to get the MRI prescription and they'd call me to let me know it was clean.
Part Two
I got a call the next day, a Thursday, asking if I could come in on Tuesday for spinal surgery. Maybe I could've, but I needed to get an MRI and blood work and tests before I could have surgery, so it seemed aggressive.
The next week and a half was a blur: partly because of the aforementioned, but all the other stuff I had to do as a mom. I didn't have a will that included my husband, let alone my kids, so I channeled my fear into fretting about that. (Jon actually dealt with it.) I'd never had surgery before, other than getting my wisdom teeth out, so I was terrified I might not wake up, or might wake up paralyzed, even though all the people who affiliated with NYU we knew told us the surgeon had a great rep. I took the kids on an extra-special outing, their choice, to the Intrepid and took cute pictures and wrote them notes for their bar mitzvahs. The Monday before surgery, I went to 6 or 7 medical appointments, including an ENT for the baby, where I held him down while they sent a scope up his nose and down his throat. (Oh the foreshadowing!) I planned the baby's birthday party.
We got it all done and then it was Wednesday night and I was freaking out about not being able to eat before my 1:30pm surgery and my clever husband pointed out it was less restrictive than Yom Kippur. Then I finished my notes to the kids and we took a car to the hospital and got lost within the hospital and they sent people looking for us and I paid an eye popping bill. (No more co-pays for the rest of the year!) I changed into a gown etc., brushed my teeth, kissed my husband goodbye, tearfully, and they wheeled me to the operating room. We passed rooms with doors open where they were hosing the blood down and it was very creepy and I wished the drugs had kicked in already. My OR was a busy place, with half a dozen people prepping stuff - there were a lot of machines! - and me trying to look around but also not distract them, because very soon, inside my spine would be open to the air.
Next thing I knew, I was really groggy and my mouth felt funny and gummy and my husband was there. My mom was too, which was good because he had to leave so the babysitter could go home. I woke the next day and felt okay - walking to the bathroom was the worst chore. My surgeon said I looked great and all my relatives came to visit, in pairs, with drama about hospital policies. They brought me treats - the phrase "New York is your oyster" was uttered. My sister had flown in from Florida, very pregnant, and came by with homebaked pear tart. About 24 hours after the surgery, the drugs wore off and took my energy. (Fentanyl is strong, mmkay?) I spent two more days in the hospital, mostly trying to lie at an angle and wishing the PT/OT would stop making me walk. I scoured the tv system looking for romcoms to watch with my mom. (I do NOT recommend Mr. Malcolm's List - cargo cult Bridgerton.) I read the surgeon's notes, with details like the size and manufacturer of the screws they put in. Apparently they were x-raying me while the surgeon worked?
On Sunday, they sent me home, ( and you probably don't care about this stuff ) my husband and I celebrated our wedding anniversary and my safe return at Peter Luger's. Two weeks later, I was so happy to go back to work. No more medical appointments! Hahaha
Epilogue: The x-ray at my 2 week appointment was metal AF - it looks like I have some cool necklace embedded in my back.
The pathology of the spinal mass came back as the least risky category one can have, so I got another MRI six months after surgery. (That had a bit of drama - the technician asked me what I was there for, then peered at me and said, "I remember you! I knew what you had last time, but I couldn't tell you." Uhhh.... But when I came out of the MRI machine that day, she said, "Your surgeon did a really good job.")
The surgeon confirmed everything looked good and begged me to go for another MRI in a year, saying I didn't even have to come to his office - just text his nurse to get the MRI prescription and they'd call me to let me know it was clean.