Colectomy
Soft maternal shake, “It’s time, we have to leave in ten minutes…”
Today’s the day, still dark outside, up with nerves for energy, dressed in loose cotton elastic, grab backpack into the car, and shut eyes for the drive… route etched internal, down brownstone streets to the smooth rise and descent between cable mesh suspended from the two-towered bridge, circle around the ramp to the FDR drive north along the river, past my high school, under the United Nations, and bubump off the 96th street exit into dawn’s long shadowed city streets, mix of groggy coffee seekers and last night’s stragglers staggering home, dropped off in front of the hospital, imposing black box. Check in info and insurance, patient ID band strapped, nurse will show you to your waiting room, please change into this gown, clothes off, belly now blemished forever, black spot for the stoma filled in permanent marker by the ET nurse yesterday who showed me how to change the bag like arts and crafts measure draw a circle and cut the circumference along the line, gown wrapped and tied, headphones on, don’t want to sit in silence…
I had seven faces…
Nerves still swirling or is that just an uneasy empty stomach voided and cleared clean by the bowel prep, didn’t finish the last drop hope that’s okay, “full of shit, send him home, try again tomorrow,” don’t want that. Down the hall to the bathroom but nothing doing so must be clear, parched mouth pale lips can’t drink, faucet water rinse spit don’t sip or might drown under anesthesia lungs with liquid, could still get out of here, Central Park across the street…
But I need to, can’t continue, failing body.
got to be some more change in my life…
Nurse comes to show me to my roller bed in the preop holding room, comes back with an IV, “Ready?” as a pin cushion, inserted, “I’m sure you’re thirsty, this saline will help with that shortly.”
Two other nurses come and ask me questions to make sure I know what’s happening and confirming my consent. Mom and dad arrive with some comfort, and then my surgeon, “Okay, everything looks good, I’ll see you in there,” he says to me with a smile and nod of assurance but nerves still swirling, until the anesthesiologist introduces, “Here, I’ve got something nice for you to help you take the edge off…” into the IV, warm fuzzy euphoria as I was rolled away from my parents down a hall into the surgical room, cold and sterile white with monitors plastic tubes sharp silvers in a row, surgeon and attendants in masks and scrubs, up from the rolling bed onto the stationary surgical one overhead spotlights on me, “warm enough?” “mhm” “feeling okay?” “yes I’m okay,” “great, I’m going to give you this, and I want you to take a deep breath okay?” “mhm,” nod, breathing mask onto my face, inhale deep HhhuhhhHH huhhh…
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white, warm, weight… wake
– chink –
light, bed, pain… awake
::: blink ;;;
nurseface overlooking, “hey there, how are you feeling?” hospital.
mmmph okay, did I say? “ohk”
“how’s your pain?”
nnnggggg “mhmm,”
“can you give a number one through ten?”
“hiii…”
“okay, one moment…”
he’s awake…
“this should help, okay?” in through the IV, “Are you warm enough?”
warrr “mmmm” thru arm and all over…
“do you want another blanket?”
“mhmm” nod.
“Okay, here you go,” tucked, “we’re going to get your family now, okay?”
Different if I look down… oof not yet, no muscles to sit up, under wraps anyways, swaddled in blankets and bandages.
Hummmmm machines, and sterile fluorescent light.
Familiar shuffshuffshuff gaitweight approaching.
Mama leaning over, squeezes my hand, “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“gooo….”d.
Newborn again.
Papa on the other side, “Well, we just talked to the surgeon, he said everything went as expected.”
No surprises, weight lifted, sink back into the warmth…
– – –
… friendly staff behind me, pushing through the hospital backchannels, into a solo room thanks be, parents, nurse introduces, “monitoring him…” she leans over and looks directly at me, “Hey, see this button? You have to press it when you feel pain okay? It will release a dose of dilaudid, but only once every five minutes. Only you can press it, okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
Try to look around the room, sit up… “ooof,” heavy, press the button, cliclick,
dose of dilaudid drips.
.
.
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