The Surgery

Sauerkraut Here!

It’s been a long two days. On Tuesday morning my mom and I headed to the University of Utah Hospital for what would be my first major surgery, unless you count having my tonsils taken out when I was nine.

Goodbye pretty neck. 

I had what’s called a left thyroid lobotomy. Basically, they took out one of my thyroids, it’s gone. There are two main reasons I had this surgery… One, these things (thyroid nodules) are not supposed to get over 4cm and mine was “pushing 6cm.” So size alone was one of the reasons for this surgery. After my surgery they discovered that my nodule was much larger than they originally thought and that it had actually moved my trachea, neat-o.

The other reason for my surgery was the risk of cancer. When I had my fine needle biopsy it was reported that I have, or had, a follicular neoplasm that carries a 15-20% risk of cancer. Although my biopsy came back benign, the doctors needed to study the cells surrounding the cells that were taken during the biopsy and the only way to do this was to remove the nodule. I should have my results back no later than July 5th, I will keep you updated. So, here’s my journey.

Mom told me to smile... At 6AM, THIS is what you get.

We arrived at the hospital around 6:30AM and played the waiting game until a few minutes after 7:00AM when they had a room for me. It was at this time that I was lead into a room (not donated by the LDS Church J) and asked to take off all my clothing, including my chonies, which did not make me happy, and put on my snazzy hospital uniform.

Vouge.

Things were going fine until the doctor came into color on my neck and inform me that not only would I have to stay overnight but that I would have a scar as a result of my surgery. I cried.

Sad face.

The Doc's notes.

Shortly after the doctor visited me the anesthesiologist came into my room to take some of my blood and get me high. It was at this point that I got very upset because I hate needles and having something stuck in my arm for a long period of time makes me very uncomfortable.

The thing that upset me the most was the idea of “going under.” I really didn’t like the idea of not being in control of my body. Plus, I was afraid of being fondled and/or raped.

Crying/laughing at myself during anaesthesia.

I did request that the anesthesiologist get me really high because I didn’t want there to be any chance of me waking up during the procedure. And at some point during our conversation I went to sleep. I don’t even remember her giving me the stuff.

This little electronic bored let my mom know my progression.

The next thing I knew I was in a big room with some lady telling me I was done with my surgery and that it was time for me to wake up. If I recall, I told her, “No, I just really want to sleep.” Apparently that was okay because they didn’t have a room for me.

High as shit.

When I finally got a room I continued to sleep until late into the evening. When I began to wake up I realized I my neck was sore and there was a long tube stuck in it with a bloody Easter egg at the end of it. Apparently this bloody Easter egg was sucking out the blood draining from my neck.

The aftermath, I spared you a photo of the Bloody Easter Egg, which had to be drained by the way.

Mom and I watched a little TV while the nurses came in and out to check on me and take my vitals. I tried to eat some dinner but I wasn’t very hungry. I ate my dinner roll, took some medicine (hydrocodone) and barfed it up ten minutes later.

Something I didn’t enjoy was that the nurses had to measure my “liquids.” So basically I had to pee into a little white bucket and when I barfed, the nurse had to measure my barf… And dig through my barfed up bread to make sure my pill stayed down. Note to self… A job in nursing is not for me.

I didn’t make my mom stay the night with me because I knew I would be okay. Plus, I knew she had had a very long day and could use some good rest in a comfy bed.

Shortly after she left I got sick again. I sent her a text, “I barfed. Should I tell somebody?” When she told me, “yes” I called the poor little nurse into my room and when she opened the door I said, “I barfed… And my mom told me to tell you.”

I didn’t get much sleep, maybe about four hours. For the most part I just sat there staring out at the city below.

Mom was back at the hospital shortly after 6AM to talk to the doctor. But he never showed, he sent his residents instead. Apparently he was still doing operations well into the night. I was hoping the doctor would stop by because he was supposed to take a photo of my nodule and I really wanted to see it. I’m hoping he’ll have it at my follow-up appointment.

It took us awhile to get out of the hospital because we had to wait for them to take the tube out of my neck (AKA The Bloody Easter Egg), my IV, fill my prescription, etc. Then, just when we were heading out, guess who thought they were going to barf, again, for the 7th time, me. I think I just got too hot in my jacket.

My party favors, a mug of ice water and a banana... I lost the banana.

Finally, some handsome dude came to wheel me out of the hospital and away we went.

Not cool.

Now I’m home and I couldn’t be happier. The hospital was as good as it could be and everyone was very nice, but it’s always nice to come home.

I’ve taken some time off work to recover and that’s just what I plan on doing. The doctor said it should take a week/two weeks, but I'm giving myself six days and then it's back to work.  I will keep you updated.

That is all.

Sauerkraut