Donna in Hollywoodland

The blog from Los Angeles and Hollywood by Donna Grayson

Tuesday, August 30, 2005


Surgery at 10 am


Next I am wheeled into the holding area before Surgery. Is this the Pre-Op room ...
No one here really looked happy with their jobs. They all seemed alittle bit grumpy and down in the dumps.

They had me get in the bed at my holding station, or whatever you call it.
The Nurse took my Vitals again.

Then the Anesthesiologist came over. He was not perky at all. Kind of a sad-sack kind of a guy.
But then again, do you really want a perky Anesthesiologist ? Kind of doesn't fit the job description, does it ?

He never introduced himself or said hello, just took my chart and started ask questions about the medical info on my chart.
He took particular interest in my Hypoglycemia.
"Are you Diabetic?" He asked
"No, hypoglycemic"
"Diabetic?" He asked again.
"No ... Hy - Po - Gly - Ce - Mic"
"Not Diabetic?" he said again.
"Hypo - Glycemic. Low blood sugar. My blood sugar gets too low."
"How do you know you are hypoglycemic ?" He sounded like he didn't believe me.
"Well", I replied "Years ago I had a glucose tolerance test, and I turned purple and they had to stop to test because I was
about to pass out."
He shrugged like that was nothing.
"And", I went on, "I have to eat every 4 hours, or I get woozy".
He shrugged again.
"And both my Family Doctor and my Breast Surgeon, are in agreement that I am hypoglycemic". I stated.
There you go, Final Answer. Don't go against my doctors, dude.
No reply to that answer.

But my IV had Dextrose in it, so I was happy.

My Doctor stops by to chat. We go over the procedure one more time. She isn't wearing makeup. Her face is scrubbed clean.
I am wearing makeup, no one said it was a problem.
I ask her how will I know if she had to remove lymph nodes, or if something happens about the nipple. I ask her when will I see her again - because if anything happens, I want her to be the one to explain it to me, I don't want to hear it from a nurse.

A few minutes after that, a young good-looking Filipino man came over to introduce himself.
"Hi, I will be your Nurse during your operation."
Okay, this is nice. Pretty good choice in my opinion.

We chatted a bit. A friend later said I should have asked him the question that the Father asks Ben Stiller in Meet The Parents .
Something about being a Nurse because you couldn't become a Doctor .
I said No, he was really nice ... for the small amount of time I was lucid and coherent with him.

Soon, the room started to sway back and forth.
I called the Nurses name. He came over.
I said "I feel funny."
He said "Thats just a mild sedative. Relax."

Mild ? The room is spinning.
You know when you were young and foolish and you'd get really really drunk, and it would be really silly and fun.
Well, this wasn't it.
It was not a good feeling.
I would not have been able to move, even if an earthquake struck. I was totally wacked.

To make matters worse, my cute nurse starts to roll the gurney.
I do remember to look down, to see my chart at the end by my feet. At least I know thats there, ha, ha, ha...
But being wheeled on a gurney when everything is swaying due to a sedative, is just so not good at all.

I am in the Operating Room.
There is a big round mirror above me.
Alot of baby blue. There are people wearing baby blue surgical hats. And baby blue paper coverings on the table.

My nurse goes off to my left. I slur a question like "So whats next?"
I see a figure behind me to my right with a baby blue surgical cap on. Is that my doctor? I try to look.
And ... boom ... I'm out cold.




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