It’s been two days since I had my surgery, and it’s not been as bad as I expected, but it wasn’t a piece of cake that I was expecting it to be.
For my first surgery experience, it was quite the ride. Originally scheduled for 12:15 it was a little bit taken aback when I received a phone message saying I was twenty minutes late for a 9:30 surgery. Apparently, they had rescheduled my surgery and forgot to tell me about it. After confirming they had the right patient, I agreed to come in, since I was spending the time waiting. Of course, I couldn’t help but to be apprehensive when you start of the morning with a misunderstanding of scheduling for your first surgery.
Upon arrival, I spent a good 20 minutes doing paperwork, basically signing off the worst case scenarios – it’s a little sobering when potentials risks includes little things like death and whatnot…
After the paperwork, I was led to a prep room. The one thing that I was pretty happy with was that each person that came up to me made sure what the surgery procedure I was in (as normal policy) “… and the surgery procedure you’re here for is…? Which means…?”
I was then in a recliner chair prepped up, met my surgeon and the anesthesiologist going over basic expectations and reviewing all my charts and previous test results. Now it was on to the surgery room. Upon walking in, it was a bed with arm rests spread across. I couldn’t help it but the image that popped up was the execution scene in “Dead Man Walking.” Once my arm was strapped and feet were wrapped, I began with the anesthesia and was out in 3 seconds (Brentium was challenging me to go more than 10 seconds). Next thing I know, I was back in the prep room that I began and the surgery went well.
However, I couldn’t help but to feel that the surgery center was trying to kick me out like I was a cheap patron at a Chinese restaurant. I recall being extremely groggy and my body going through all kinds of pain. That first day of recovery was probably the harshest as I was going through some extreme nausea. I looked at my body and had four nicely bandaged stab wounds. The surgeon was also kind enough to take some pictures of my bladder inside my body and then the dissected insides of the black sludgy bile and the gallstones that were the impetus for my surgery.
The next day progressed well as my nausea stopped, but the wounds were still quite tender. At that point my body felt like it was pelted with a dozens of shuriken knives. Breathing took a lot of effort and it hurt to cough or blow my nose. But I was slowly able to eat and drink a normal meal. Throughout this time, sleep, fluids and extreme rest become your best medicine. By today, I still feel pretty bruised up, and my body is tender but on the road to recovery. Won’t be able to do any muay thai, but I hope to start working out within the month.