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There can be only one... 2014-01-28
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On Thursday January 23, I arrived at the hospital at just before
the required 11.30. Wearing sweatpants and loose-fitting boots over
which a made-for-Antarctica parka kept the -24C at bay. I was not
to eat or drink anything after the previous midnight, and although
I had no problems with not eating, I did have my morning cup of
tea, but more out of habit than thirst. Nonetheless, I visited the
toilet just to be sure to arrive on empty.
Upon checking in at the surgery area a nurse took me to a changing
room and got me to strip and slip in one of those hospital gowns.
They are indeed open on the back, for what reason remains a mystery
to me. Luckily I was also to wear fancy -large- underwear and to
sport a pants-like maroon-colored, well, for want of a better word,
trousers. Top that off with support socks, tough plastic sandals
and a flashy dressing gown, I was ready for the spotlights.
My electronics I would get back after surgery. Ah...so no live
streaming to YouTube and updating my twitter feed from the
operation room. But there was television in the waiting room, and
some magazines. I was not the only patient in the waiting room, but
I was the youngest. We all dressed similar, I did not stand out for
my fashion sense; something I am quite used to.
It took about two and a half hours before my turn was up and I got
called into the operating room. As I laid down on the operating
table one nurse started to place nodes onto various places on my
body, while another shoved a needle up a vain in the top of my left
hand, hooking it up to some IV thingy. A third woman, yes they were
all female, introduced herself as the anesthesiologist and asked if
I could tell her which procedure I had come in for. Astonished I
asked her if she was kidding me (it was other terminology that came
to mind, but I kept it polite). Apparently this is routine, to make
sure that the right patient is in the right place at the right
time.
"Open your eyes. Do you know where you are?" I heard a voice ask
while someone placed a mask with oxygen over my mouth. I opened my
eyes, and slightly nodded. I remembered nothing about the
operation, and I was so sure that I would only be put under
regional anesthesia. Apparently not. Both the urologists and the
nurse who had taken me through the procedure on the preceding
Monday, had me believe that I would be under anesthesia from the
waist down, not general anesthesia. No wonder they wouldn't allow
me my tablet, they knew I wouldn't be streaming to YouTube anyway!
After sniffing some more oxygen, I was rolled from the recovery
room to a two person patient's room where I could rest some
more. The nurse told me that she would get my clothes and stuff.
From behind the curtain to my right I could see that I was not
alone, and that I was not next to the window. The nurse brought in
my stuff and asked if I would like my phone, for instance. She
correctly took my nodding as a sign of the affirmative and placed
my bag on my bed and allowed me grab my tablet, ear-buds and
charger. She brought me water and I was told to drink, and then she
left. I was still very groggy from the anesthesia and just tried to
get as comfortable as possible, lifting the head part up a bit so
that I could place my tablet in front of me on my chest and
comfortably watch something or tweet something. Yes, I know, very
sad.
Another nurse came in -interrupting my watching Russel Peters's
"Notorious" show on Netflix- and explained that she thought it best
that I would stay over-night so that they could monitor my urine
output and to give me all the rest I need. Fine, I'll do whatever
is needed. Then she told me to get out of the bed and try to walk a
bit. She helped me in my slippers, grabbed my left arm tightly and
commanded me to stand up. I did my best. "Eyes open!" she grumbled
and I complied. But she seemed satisfied with our walk to the door
and back, and even placed my pillows comfortably before allowing me
to continue with Russel Peters.
Later she brought in some painkillers just before an evening
snack. The hospital and I have different opinions on what consists
of an evening snack. I wasn't hungry, but a slice of bread with
salami and cheese, and a cup of tea is not an evening snack.
Although feeling weak and heavenly drugged, I could hardly sleep
and watched Netflix until very late. During the night, I slept for
short periods and finally visited the toilet at about 01.30. I
managed to pee, but had to wait a while, basically for gravity to
take over as I didn't want to "push"; but I managed in the end. And
it took very little time for the night nurse to show up and ask if
I had visited the toilet. When I told that I had, and that I had
succeeded in emptying my bladder, she went for some ultrasound
machine to check my bladder. I hadn't lied to her, and this
satisfied her.
At 06.00 I had another bladder check and the nurse told me that I
should go and visit the toilet again. I did while she was waiting
on the other patient in the room. She questioned me about my visit,
and I told her that I didn't want to push and that I really
couldn't knowing that she'd be standing behind the door waiting for
me. Apparently she understood, and less than an hour later she had
her desired result and ultrasound reading. Leaving me to enjoy the
fine cuisine of the hospital once again. As this is Finland:
porridge, frigging salty porridge. The sugar cubes meant for my tea
went straight to the porridge, to make it a bit more edible. The
slice of bread, salami and cheese tasted a lot better.
At 08.00 my urologist came by and explained what she had done
during the operation. She told me that she had removed the right
testicle, I told her that I had noticed. (What? You think I hadn't
checked yet?) The operation itself had gone well. There had been
some swelling so that she had needed to use a bit more force on the
skin than expected; this would result in some temporary bruising.
She also told me that she had sliced the removed part of my body in
half and that there indeed was a 3 cm long tumor, and that this had
already been sent to a pathologist, and that I could expect the
result in about 3 to 4 weeks time. If I felt well, I could leave
today. With that she went on to the patient next to me.
By 09.30 I was dressed, had my discharge papers, some extra
painkillers and left. I asked the receptionist at the main entrance
to call me a taxi and I was home by 10.00, where I spent the rest
of the day in bed.
