It was time … time to go in for my thyroid surgery (One Down, One To Go). And yes, I was a little nervous as the doctor had told me the surgery would take 2-1/2 hours, and I’d be under general anesthesia, yet again.
The night prior to my surgery I was reading the Bible, and Isaiah 26:3 (NIV) popped out at me:
You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast, because he trusts in you.
I decided I would claim that verse for the surgery, and the next morning as I got ready to head to the hospital I read it again, committing it to memory.
Upon arriving at the hospital I went through all the pre-op paperwork, and was taken to the room to await for the anesthesiologist.
All of a sudden who walked in? A dear sweet friend from church who worked at the hospital. She told me she was scheduled to be the surgical nurse in the operating room – hurray! I told her I was a little nervous, and she promised she’d be right there with me, praying through the whole operation.
I also met the anesthesiologist, and pleaded with her to make sure to give me strong anti-nausea medication as I tend to get so sick from anesthesia. She stated she would, and got me all hooked up and ready to go.
A short time later back in came my nurse friend, who wheeled me into the operating room. She introduced me to everyone, and then the next thing I knew … I woke up in post-op.
It was then I knew I was in real trouble. I tried moving my head a bit, and the room started swerving so badly that I needed to throw-up. The problem was, I had nothing in my stomach to get rid of!
Gary was in the room with me, and one look at his face and I knew something was wrong. He told me later that he’d never seen my face look so pale, and as he watched me continuing to be wracked with dry-heaves he was getting more and more worried.
One of the nurses came in shortly after I awoke, and I was weeping so hard that she came over and gave me a bear hug because she felt so bad for me. I said to her,
“Please help me…”
I could tell by her face that she was concerned at how sick as I was, but then told me to try and rest awhile longer to see if it would help.
Well, it didn’t.
I was supposed to be able to leave and go home that afternoon, but as the minutes turned into hours, Gary told the nursing staff that there was no way he was going to remove me from the hospital.
It got time for the post-op nurses to leave for the night, and they were in a quandary as to what to do as they had orders that I was supposed to go home.
One of the sweet nurses started asking me specific questions about my nausea, and I told her I’d asked the anesthesiologist to make sure and give me strong anti-nausea medication. She looked at the chart, and then came over and looked behind my ear. Behind it was an ear patch, which supposedly was supposed to do the trick.
I could tell she was irritated at that point – not by me, but because of the anesthesiologist.
“These things never work,” she said as she ripped off the patch from behind my ear.
Interestingly enough, even though I was more nauseous than I think I’d ever been in my life, I still remembered Isaiah 26:3, and just started praying it over and over.
Soon the lead nurse made an executive decision, and arranged for me to be moved to an upstairs hospital bed.
However just wheeling my bed upstairs to the room didn’t turn out to be fun, as I tried to decide whether lying down or sitting up on the bed while they moved it would be easier.
It didn’t matter. I was just constantly trying to throw-up, and every time the staff turned a corner I thought I truly wanted to die.
Finally we got to my room and they got me transferred to the bed. Then they got me hooked up to some meds that would help me sleep.
Gary said good-bye as they told him I’d be out cold soon.
And I was, but not for long…