The Details
Sorry for the delay on this post. My mom's wireless card has been malfunctioning, so I couldn't connect to the internet from downstairs where I have been living for the last day and a half. I can now climb stairs, so here we are.
This post will cover the details of Thursday, but not the diagnosis.
I was a little late thanks to the ongoing construction at Charles Circle. I'm totally in favor of the new construction of the T Stop because the Charles stop had the dubious distinction of being the closest to MGH . . . . but not handicapped accessible. I was supposed to arrive at 11:15, but did not check in until 11:35. My mom commented how much "hoo-ha" there was in the Day Surgery Unit, which makes sense as MGH is one of the largest hospitals in the region and does a ton of day surgery. Surprisingly, the specialties are not segregated, even though Orthopedics could probably have their own day surgery suite by themselves (as could abdominal surgery for hernias, appendices, and gall bladders). I was called at 11:45 to change into the surgery clothes (johnny, pants, slipper socks, bathrobe), and returned to the "Penn Station" waiting room. At 12:45 I was called in for good, and my mom went off to the 'caf downstairs to get a salad. I went into pre-op (by the way, the nurse who took me in wins the cutest nurse award, even though I wouldn't see her again) and proceeded to answer about 9,000 questions from various people and signed various consents. I met one of my two anesthesiologists, a lovely woman named Laurie Shapiro. She noted that the other anesthesiologist was named Daniel Goldfarb. You know you're in good hands when the two anesthesiologists are two Jews over the age of 40. We discussed the merits of general anesthesia vs. a spinal (I kind of had a choice), but the fear of the catheter made it a no brainer, and I'm a pretty young healthy guy anyway. She put in the dreaded IV, but did a fantastic job - she used a little fast acting anesthesia first. After reading a Boston magazine while I waited for a bit, the Ortho fellow showed up and explained the procedure while shaving my knee. His name was Dr. Vasquez, and was a native of Worcester, Williams College 1997 and Columbia Med School 2001. When he was done Dr. Goldfarb arrived in my bay and gave me some relaxant that made me feel like I had just drunk 3 martinis, and we were off to the OR (it was 1:40) - Dr. Goldfarb pulling and Dr. Shapiro pushing and directing traffic. We got to the surprisingly small OR room (which is good because Seinfeld says the smaller the better, implying fewer people would want to watch because it was routine), and Dr. Gill was not there. He was still finishing up on another person (that doesn't sound like fun, moving from OR to OR). No matter, I moved myself onto the OR table, said hello to the other people (nurses, Dr. Vasquez again), and Dr. Goldfarb placed an oxygen mask on me while Dr. Shapiro placed some monitoring instruments all over, apologizing that the EKG readers would rip off my Eastern European chest hair, hurting quite a bit, and that he would rip them off himself before I was awake. I was told later that actual surgery began at 2:05.
That's the last thing I remember. My eyes closed (although I don't remember them telling me I was going out), and I don't recall even seeing Dr. Gill. My eyes opened and I was in recovery with a zillion other people, with Dr. Goldfarb and my recovery nurse (Eileen) staring at me. I didn't feel all that great, so Eileen gave me some anti-vomiting meds through the IV. Dr. Goldfarb, seeing that I was awake, moved on to his next patient who was in pre-op. This would beg the question - is the actual surgery time the most relaxing for the anesthesiologists, because they don't have to run around ?
The anti-vomiting drugs worked, and I rapidly improved. My parents were astonished about how good I looked when they stopped by, especially my step-dad (Les). My two stepbrothers had just undergone small surgical procedures, and Les said they were like zombies compared to me - alert and able to have a serious conversation. This was a testament to my anesthesiologists who were knew what they were doing. Eileen maneuvered me into a chair for the second stage of recovery, and at that point Dr. Vasquez came in and talked to us. I had some crackers and Shasta ginger ale (Shasta being the only brand ever used at a hospital, but virtually never consumed outside of one), and left at 4:50 with crutches. I was only in recovery for an hour (the conscious part, plus maybe 20 minutes of unconscious), and we had to wait a second for Dr. Gill, who was trying to complete another scope while I was in recovery (!). I had to take a Vicodin to get to sleep that night, as the pain was significant on the side where the scope incisions were.
This post will cover the details of Thursday, but not the diagnosis.
I was a little late thanks to the ongoing construction at Charles Circle. I'm totally in favor of the new construction of the T Stop because the Charles stop had the dubious distinction of being the closest to MGH . . . . but not handicapped accessible. I was supposed to arrive at 11:15, but did not check in until 11:35. My mom commented how much "hoo-ha" there was in the Day Surgery Unit, which makes sense as MGH is one of the largest hospitals in the region and does a ton of day surgery. Surprisingly, the specialties are not segregated, even though Orthopedics could probably have their own day surgery suite by themselves (as could abdominal surgery for hernias, appendices, and gall bladders). I was called at 11:45 to change into the surgery clothes (johnny, pants, slipper socks, bathrobe), and returned to the "Penn Station" waiting room. At 12:45 I was called in for good, and my mom went off to the 'caf downstairs to get a salad. I went into pre-op (by the way, the nurse who took me in wins the cutest nurse award, even though I wouldn't see her again) and proceeded to answer about 9,000 questions from various people and signed various consents. I met one of my two anesthesiologists, a lovely woman named Laurie Shapiro. She noted that the other anesthesiologist was named Daniel Goldfarb. You know you're in good hands when the two anesthesiologists are two Jews over the age of 40. We discussed the merits of general anesthesia vs. a spinal (I kind of had a choice), but the fear of the catheter made it a no brainer, and I'm a pretty young healthy guy anyway. She put in the dreaded IV, but did a fantastic job - she used a little fast acting anesthesia first. After reading a Boston magazine while I waited for a bit, the Ortho fellow showed up and explained the procedure while shaving my knee. His name was Dr. Vasquez, and was a native of Worcester, Williams College 1997 and Columbia Med School 2001. When he was done Dr. Goldfarb arrived in my bay and gave me some relaxant that made me feel like I had just drunk 3 martinis, and we were off to the OR (it was 1:40) - Dr. Goldfarb pulling and Dr. Shapiro pushing and directing traffic. We got to the surprisingly small OR room (which is good because Seinfeld says the smaller the better, implying fewer people would want to watch because it was routine), and Dr. Gill was not there. He was still finishing up on another person (that doesn't sound like fun, moving from OR to OR). No matter, I moved myself onto the OR table, said hello to the other people (nurses, Dr. Vasquez again), and Dr. Goldfarb placed an oxygen mask on me while Dr. Shapiro placed some monitoring instruments all over, apologizing that the EKG readers would rip off my Eastern European chest hair, hurting quite a bit, and that he would rip them off himself before I was awake. I was told later that actual surgery began at 2:05.
That's the last thing I remember. My eyes closed (although I don't remember them telling me I was going out), and I don't recall even seeing Dr. Gill. My eyes opened and I was in recovery with a zillion other people, with Dr. Goldfarb and my recovery nurse (Eileen) staring at me. I didn't feel all that great, so Eileen gave me some anti-vomiting meds through the IV. Dr. Goldfarb, seeing that I was awake, moved on to his next patient who was in pre-op. This would beg the question - is the actual surgery time the most relaxing for the anesthesiologists, because they don't have to run around ?
The anti-vomiting drugs worked, and I rapidly improved. My parents were astonished about how good I looked when they stopped by, especially my step-dad (Les). My two stepbrothers had just undergone small surgical procedures, and Les said they were like zombies compared to me - alert and able to have a serious conversation. This was a testament to my anesthesiologists who were knew what they were doing. Eileen maneuvered me into a chair for the second stage of recovery, and at that point Dr. Vasquez came in and talked to us. I had some crackers and Shasta ginger ale (Shasta being the only brand ever used at a hospital, but virtually never consumed outside of one), and left at 4:50 with crutches. I was only in recovery for an hour (the conscious part, plus maybe 20 minutes of unconscious), and we had to wait a second for Dr. Gill, who was trying to complete another scope while I was in recovery (!). I had to take a Vicodin to get to sleep that night, as the pain was significant on the side where the scope incisions were.
posted by seeherman at 5:05 AM
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