Right Liver Lobectomy (Part 1 of 2) – The morphine button.
April 29, 2010
(Note: This post come in two parts. I tried to digest it in appreciation of the time you give to read this post. However, I apologize if I over-extended your kindness.)
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The medical terminology is lobectomy or the removal of one of the lobes of an organ. It can apply to brain, lung, or liver. In my case, I am having a right liver lobectory or a hepatic lobectomy of the right lobe. That’s what it says on the procedure form in front of me for April 20.
“Name and date of birth please?” the receptionist asked of me.
I have this funny feeling that I am going to be asked this question many times over, so I better not forget. It was 6:00 am at the 5th floor day-surgery reception area and place was already crowded patients and family members. It reminded me of my early Monday morning travel days at O’hare International airport. The airport will be already jammed with business travelers early mornings, but this was a Tuesday and it is just us sick patients with our families. Yes, this hospital is that busy.
“Good morning, Mr. Alvarez. We have all your forms ready, but you have to sign one more consent form.” I already did a lot of this pre-op paper work the week before but there is always one more form. Let’s kill some more trees.
“Your procedure will be done in the 7th floor. So after you are done with the paper work, you and your wife will be escorted to the 7th floor surgery.”
At the 7th floor, my wife was shown the family room with a big flat screen monitors that lists all the surgeries for the day and their status. There was phone which nurses/doctors can call to inform the families. (See what I mean when I say this hospital is just like O’Hare airport with its flight status monitors.) I was escorted to cubicle 7 in the pre-op area and was told by the nurse, Rosemary, to remove all clothes and change to the hospital dressing gown. There is no escaping now.
“Could you tell me your name and date of birth?” I knew it. Some of resident doctors/nurses were inventive by asking me to spell my last name. Ah, the trick question. I wonder how this works with deaf and dumb patients. I digress.
A series of doctors/nurses come and see me and asks me the same question. What medication am I on? Am allergic to any drugs? Last meal? They were always courteous and would always ask after if I needed anything else or if I was comfortable. They have access to my veins and was slowly infusing me with antibiotics and nutrients. The heart and blood pressure monitors were working correctly, and I was ready. Later, my wife was brought in. I missed her already. It was good seeing her. I tried warning my nurses that my wife is a nurse too and she gets protective about me.
“Watch your step around her, ladies” I thought to myself.
The nurse anesthetist walks in and marks my right abdomen with the initial MA (the initial of my doctor). As if on queue, Dr. A walks in.
“Good morning. So, are we ready?” He greets me with a smile. He is a very likeable man. God is in the “house”. Woohoo! Dr. A briefs us on the length procedure and other details. With that, my wife kissed me and I was slowly brought to the operating room. I was gone.
I woke up in the ICU hearing voices around me. I don’t remember anything and I even wondered if the procedure has started. Reality, inspite of the haze, started to set in. I hear the monitors beeping, my throat hurt, I could feel something in my nose as a suction, and air was flowing as well. I started to gag and felt an urge to vomit. The urge contracted my stomach and pain shot up.
“Breathe, hon. It is over. Press your morphine button.” my wife’s familiar voice assured. I press the PCA pump button (discharges morphine) and a warm feeling covers me. Ahh… It was pass noon already. I have been in surgery for four hours.
“Hi, Mr. Alvarez. My name is Abby and I will be your nurse during the day” she introduce herself as she checks my vitals.
“Ok” I replied and press the morphine button again. Hallelujah. Now, where was I or where am I? I digress again…
Abby, that’s the name of my second daughter I told her. The funny thing is my night nurse’s name is Natalie, that’s the name of my first daughter. I have both my pretty angels taking care of me. I got to know Abby more since I was more awake during the day. She really took care of me. I told her about my experience running the marathon and it inspired her to run, for the first-time, the Chicago Rock N Roll Half Marathon for me. I will be there to cheer her on.
I am always touched by the kindness of other, like Abby, Natalie, or Rosemary, when you are most vulnerable. I met many of you through this blog or through my story, helping me when I most needed it. I wish I can name all the names who have helped come me this far, but you know who you are. Thank you very much.
Cheers.
PS: My wife had warned me of the length of my incision. She was not kidding. I will post a picture of it Part 2, so this is a warning to the faint of hearts.