I was awakened on the day of surgery by a sharp pang in my neck. It was a searing pain that kept my neck in spasm throughout the day. There was a bit of unease settling in because of this really. What an auspicious way to start this already dreadful day. The surgery was scheduled to start at 1 pm. But the gurney didn’t arrive until close to 3. Ruth and I spent those pre surgery potentially fretful hours watching the Simpson’s, seeking comic relief. She also rubbed my neck through out the day, helping the pain a great deal.
I really didn’t feel too nervous. I had implicit trust in my surgeon Dr. Sanjay Pai. I made this decision months ago, and now it was time to surrender. I gave Ruth the thumbs up as I was wheeled down to the “theatre”, as the OR is referred to at Wockhardt.
I’ve practiced mindful breathing for many years. At a time like this, it is invaluable. I use my breathe to breathe in God’s love, and then I breathe out God’s love, sharing it with the world. I breathe in God’s healing power, and I breathe out God’s healing power, and so on. So I was fairly calm and positive as I was wheeled through the corridors and down the elevator.
I was changed into a sterile gown and wheeled into the theatre, where it was freezing cold. Here two anesthesiologists attempted to start an IV. They were examining my arm and the small veins I possess. It’s always been a challenge for medical personal to hook me up. The man who seemed to be a student attempted to stick me. It was botched. I thought “great, I’m being used as a practice dummy.” After much discussion he tried again and hit my vein. The next task was to start the epidural. They had me shift to the operating table. It was cold and hard. They had me sit up, opened my back side and sprayed this ice cold aerosol anti bacterial liquid. It was impossible not to shiver. But I was urgently and not too gently admonished to hold perfectly still. The same student attempted to put in my epidural. He found the spot and I felt a huge bolt of pain sore up my spine. I collapsed and was rolled onto my side again none too gently. Oxygen was administered and then another attempt was made to get it in place. This time they found the correct pathway down my spinal column and an immediate sense of numbing was felt running down my legs. I was rolled onto my back where my arms were brought out to each side, crucifixion style; An IV on my left, blood pressure and pulse gauges on my right and heart monitors on my chest. I was asked if I wanted to be sedated so that I’d sleep through the surgery. I assured them that yes indeed put me out for this, especially since as all of this was going on I heard the sound of the saws and drills being tested that were soon to be applied to my very own flesh. I drifted off to sleep
I awoke just as the surgery started. My Dr. Sanjay Pai had not made his presence known to me but I was pretty sure I heard his commanding voice, beyond the screen that was placed between me and the surgical team. In the periphery were the pain guys, who by this time were totally bored and the Dr. sitting closest to me was gently snoring. I heard cell phones ringing and being answered, “hello, yea I’m in surgery, call you later.” Click.
I lay awake during the entire procedure. The sounds of the machinery cutting through my bone tissue, the smell of my flesh and bone being rendered will never be forgotten. At one point I heard Dr. Pai’s voice say “no, that’s not right, we’ll have to do that again.” The surgery seemed to go on forever. My neck and arms were very achy and I attempted to move them around some, seeking a measure of relief. No one, not once, checked in on me or sought in any way to comfort me or administer more medicine so that I could sleep. The thought crossed my mind that these very interesting, brilliant Indian people simply do not possess qualities of empathy or compassion. It’s just not a part of their framework. This surgery was all about my knee being replaced. They were totally tuned into that. My comfort and mental well being were not a priority. And perhaps the fact that I’m a woman and the entire surgical team were men, made it even less a priority that any care be given to my physical and emotional needs.
Finally, I was told that the surgery was just about over and the wound would be stapled. I asked if everything went all right, and I was given a perfunctory affirmative, yes, everything is fine.
Dr. Pai did not address me at this point either. As the dismantling of all the equipment transpired and the various weights I was held down with were removed I became fraught with convulsive shivers. I was so cold. A hose blasting hot air was tucked under my sheet and I clung to this with all of my draining might.
I was wheeled into post op and left entirely alone until Ruth appeared. She had that wild look of fear, fatigue, and fight in her eyes and I knew then that this surgery was as hard on her as on me. By this time it was 6:30, three and a half hours since she had last seen me, and no one was telling her anything either.
She went looking for a Dr. who would impart some information. Finally the older anesthesiologist who had snored through my surgery came over and said that everything went fine.
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