A Not-So-Good Start

Well ladies and gentlemen... we survived our first tour of combat together: "Operation Remove Cancer."

I was a complete wreck all day Wednesday. I didn't want to interact with anyone... in fact, I spend most of my morning sitting behind my computer playing a mind-numbing computer game. I was not ready for this surgery. I've had two prior oral surgeries in the past, so I kinda have an idea what to expect. This surgery is going to be WAY more invasive than my high-school mouth surgeries...and those sucked!

So, I spent a lot of time trying to find my courage. The fact was... I was scared. Really, really, really scared. I did not know what my life would be like in twenty-four hours, and I can tell you now... it is not the same. I am sitting here drowning myself in a pool of tears, knowing what I know now, but I will try to keep true to the story-line and not jump ahead.

Jess and I left the house just after 11 a.m. so that we had time to stop by Costco to fuel-up the truck. I wanted to drive my truck to surgery, not knowing how long it might be before I get to drive her again. I remember the drive being very quiet, almost uncomfortable. I hadn't eaten all day, so I could also feel myself getting "hangry." Jess tried her best to calm me down, but I think she knew my stubbornness enough by now that there was little she could do combat the chaos that was brewing in my head.

Parking at the hospital sucked as usual. I was particularly careful where to park my truck because I knew Jess would need to pull out and drive home later that night. We eventually found a decent, less compact spot, parked and headed into the surgical admissions building.

As soon as we walk into the hospital entrance for surgery check-in, you are immediately greeted by a receptionist. She sat at a small desk in the middle of this massive, very open and not at all private waiting area. This was the main waiting area from all families and friends with loved ones being worked on. The receptionist gave me a wristband and directed me to an administration office which stood directly behind us. The office was made of heavy-duty glass walls, had a single desk with multiple storage cabinets, and enough seating for the hospital administrator and two clients. Here, a lady made me sign my life away. The standard hospital, surgical admissions paperwork, splashed with a page or two releasing the hospital from any student liabilities since it is a learning hospital. I knew I was in good hands, but I was really hoping I hadn't just made a huge mistake. Who would really be doing all the cutting on me? I have no doubt my doctor is good at what she does, but is she good enough to fix some student's mistake following a sneeze, a hiccup, a hand tremor, who knows.... Maybe some kid will go rouge and just start chopping away because the girl next to him will not take him up on his offer for drinks after work.

Anyways... I got all signed-in and was directed back into the waiting room, where I would stay until called back into pre-op by a nurse.

On my way to the hospital, I was contacted by my Fire Chief and a fellow Master Sergeant, wanting to say "hi" and wish me the best before I took the plunge. They both showed up minutes after Jess and I found our seats in the waiting area. I hadn't seem either of them for a little over a week, so it was nice to use work as a way to get my head off all the other bull I was overly obsessing over. The four of us sat there discussing random, meaningless issues... jumping back and forth between work related issues and questions directed towards my cancer treatment. Before not too long, a female nurse popped-out from behind a door and called out my name.

It was go time!

I said my good-byes. The Fire Chief informed me that he intended to stay with Jess thought-out the surgery (he is a very good man). My buddy had to return to base, but still wished me well. Jess and I grabbed my things and headed back to pre-op.

The pre-op staging area was pretty big. There had to be at least twenty beds lining two parallel corridors. I was escorted into my room, where I was immediately met by a couple nurses. They gave me very specific instructions on how to prepare myself for surgery. I had to disrobe to the nude, give myself a moist-towel bath, and equip the standard issued hospital gown and rubber bottom stockings. I then crawled under some warm bed sheets. The nurses had a bunch of standard questions for me. One took notice that I was under a bit of anxiety and assured me the anesthesiologist would have something for me very soon.

After a couple minutes of sitting there, a couple of young doctors came peering around the curtain. They both introduced themselves, explaining that they are two of the ENT residents that will be assisting in my surgery.  The young female doctor was to the point, almost brash and definitely lacked bed-side-manor. She immediately began pushing a release form into my arms requesting that I sign. She explained they may need to take a tissue sample from my thigh to use under my tongue. Then went on to inform me that it will hurt, but my pain medications should prevent the area from becoming too much of a nuisance. So far, she was not my favorite. The male doctor was more laid back. He was more concerned with how I was feeling and if I had any concerns they could address before I headed back into surgery. My only concern was whether or not I would get to see my assigned doctor before being placed in the hands of the residents?

A team of anesthesiologists came back to prepare me for surgery. They ran a couple different IVs and explained that sense work will be done in my mouth, my breathing tubes would be inserted through the nose. So, they had me huff a bunch of nasal spray that was meant to constrict the blood vessels, thus opening up the airway and decreasing the likelihood of bleeding. Jest before leaving, one of the anesthesiologist informed me that he would get me some medicine to help me relax very soon.

Just as they walked away, my primary ENT doctor walked-in, still dressed in her business clothes, and looked nothing like one might expect from a doctor that was about to perform surgery. She admitted to be running slightly late, but assured me she was well-rested and ready to rock. Jess asked her to confirm how long she would anticipate the surgery taking. Her response was 3-4 hours. The plan was to do the tongue first, that way they can send the tissue samples to pathology to ensure ALL the cancer had been removed before sewing it up and moving onto the neck.

The surgery was due to begin at 2 p.m. It was already past that and my doctor didn't appear to be ready. Not only that, we were told I was being moved to my third surgical room. The first surgical room I was assigned to still had someone inside receiving care. The second room I was assigned to had a sudden loss of ventilation. I sure hope the old proverb, "third time's a charm" holds true today. So far, I was not getting the sense of ease nor encouragement I would have hoped for.

 It was go time. Jess was told to say her good-byes. I could see she had started crying. I tried not to, but I'm sure my eyes welled-up. By this point, I had become a mute. I decided the next work I spoke from my mouth would be with a new tongue. It was either that, or I was literally in shock, scared to death. I was rolled into an operating room. I just stared up, admiring all the fancy lighting and chrome fixtures. I could hear a lot of talk going on around me, but I was drowning it all out. I was trying desperately to find peace. A voice called down to me and asked that I take a couple deep breaths. Those were the breaths I needed to finally put my mind at ease...