Surgical Procedures
Yesterday was Armand's scheduled surgery. He was supposed to go in for 11:30am for this re-constructive really comprehensive surgery complete with bone graphs, moved muscles, tightened ligaments and scar tissue removal, plus who knows what else. Anyway early in the morning we got a call from his doctor, a well known orthopedic surgeon specializing in sports injuries. Dr. Shea told Armand basically that the anestesiologist on duty was incompetent and already failed at nerve blocks on some surgeries that had already taken place, and since Armand's surgery was so extensive he didn't feel comfortable completing it that day unless another anesthesiologist could be found. He gave Armand a tentative postponement unless the accomodation could be made.
This was way too much stress for the poor guy. Originally, the surgery was supposed to take place July 31st, that way he could have all of August to heal in time for school which starts September 2nd. Obviously the date was pushed back, due to the fact that Dr. Shea needed backup for the procedure and was teaming up with the only other doctor in New England who had completed one of the major components of his surgery, the Latarjet Procedure. So to push the date back again, even if just a week, means he wouldn't even get to begin recovery until the first week of school. Not practical. Plus his father and I had already taken time off of work, the whole weekend in my case, in order to care for him. It just didn't seem fair, so we hoped against hope that another anesthesiologist would be available.
Luckily, Dr. Shea pulled through, and we got to the Univeristy of Connecticut Health Center still on schedule. Armand got right in and they began the nerve block. I went in to see him after he was a little dopey and we played games with his dead arm. Good times. They took him back into the Operating Room at about 1:15pm and Joe and I settled into the waiting room for what Dr. Shea told me would be about a 2.5 hour surgery.
I kept myself pretty busy reading Stephenie Meyer's The Host and playing Nintendo DS. We had lunch in the hospital cafeteria which wasn't much better than junior high meals. Back in the waiting room, 3:45 rolls around and I start expecting to see the doctor or nurse to let us know he's finished. Armand's mom, who is on vacation with his sister and grandmother in Las Vegas, was sending me texts to ask if he was out yet. "not yet." "no sign of him." "haven't heard" I kept replying for the next hour or so. After that I promised I would let her know the second we had any information. 4:45pm rolls around and I'm starting to get anxious. How long did the doctor say? How long has it been now? We are 3.5 hours in. After 4 hours of surgery I head over to the nurse's station where there is a television blasting a bunch of gibberish to the waiting room. I'm looking and wondering and finally ask her what it all means. "It's a schedule of the day's patients and their status." she explains. "How do I know which patient is mine? It's been kind of a long time." I ask. "What's his first name?" And she calls back to find out what's going on. "He's still in the OR." she tells me after a short telephone conversation. At this point, the surgery center is closed and we are the only people left in the waiting room. It's been over 4 hours and I'm watching as all of the nurses and people I met before Armand went in, are going home. Ok... they could have made eye contact or given a thumbs up or some signal to let me know things are alright, because I was about to go find him myself.
(Unfortunately all the doors are password protected so even if I'd had the guts I couldn't have gotten in.)
It was about 5:30pm when one of the staff was exiting through the waiting room and finally let us know that they were finishing up on him. At about 6pm Dr. Shea came out to meet us, knowing that we'd be worried out of our minds. He explained that they brought in a 3rd highly qualified orthopedic surgeon and that between the 3 of them, the agree that his shoulder looks pretty damn good. Excellent news! He said that at first his shoulder looked pretty pulverized, a lot of scarring and damage to be repaired. The Latarjet took longer than expected but finally everything was complete and he was in the back waking up. At about 6 we were finally allowed to go see him. I texted his mother and let her know that everything was ok and went in to see Armand.
I can't lie, he looked a hot, hot mess. He was all pale and groggy and couldn't form coherent sentences or open his eyes. All he kept saying was "Eye ppp....I popppp..." So I asked the nurse if they had any ice pops, then baby fed him a blue otter pop. Which he promptly threw up and asked for another. We got him to sit up and it was clear that any motion at all made him extremely ill. As much as I hate throwing up and it turns my stomach to watch/hear/smell anyone puking, the concern so far outweighed the disgust, that I realized it didn't even bother me at all. The RN gave him an IV motion sickness dose and also a little patch that is supposed to help with the nausea. She showed us how to use the sling and the cryo-cuff, and told us when and how to administer the prescribed pain medication (percocet.) Then we wheeled him to the car and were on our way home.
As soon as we got there he said he was starving and would love some clam chowder (his favorite food.) So I rushed out to Chili's and bought him 3 bowls of the stuff, knowing he probably wouldn't keep any of it down. He threw up 3 more times in the night along with once in the morning and the 2 times back at the hospital. When he finally became coherent enough to care, he was frustrated with feeling sick and not being able to hold down food. I explained to him that he was under for over 4.5 hours and that no one's body would embrace that much anesthesia. I showed him the list of medications used during surgery, and 9 out of the 12 listed were checked off, plus one written in the "other" category. He seemed to understand then why he was feeling so shitty. I also relayed what Dr. Shea told us about how good it looked and that if this doesn't work he wouldn't know what to do. Armand seemed to be satisfied with that and said it was worth a few hours of barfing.
I've been spoon feeding him clam chowder, applesauce, Wendy's frosty and whatever else he wants. If he needs to readjust, or go to the bathroom or ANYTHING at all, I have been by his side. I barely slept, waking up every 2 hours at best, but I am living for someone else these days and when he suffers, I suffer. No matter how much I think I could complain, I'm not in the least bit unhappy with being here for him every step of the way.
This was way too much stress for the poor guy. Originally, the surgery was supposed to take place July 31st, that way he could have all of August to heal in time for school which starts September 2nd. Obviously the date was pushed back, due to the fact that Dr. Shea needed backup for the procedure and was teaming up with the only other doctor in New England who had completed one of the major components of his surgery, the Latarjet Procedure. So to push the date back again, even if just a week, means he wouldn't even get to begin recovery until the first week of school. Not practical. Plus his father and I had already taken time off of work, the whole weekend in my case, in order to care for him. It just didn't seem fair, so we hoped against hope that another anesthesiologist would be available.
Luckily, Dr. Shea pulled through, and we got to the Univeristy of Connecticut Health Center still on schedule. Armand got right in and they began the nerve block. I went in to see him after he was a little dopey and we played games with his dead arm. Good times. They took him back into the Operating Room at about 1:15pm and Joe and I settled into the waiting room for what Dr. Shea told me would be about a 2.5 hour surgery.
I kept myself pretty busy reading Stephenie Meyer's The Host and playing Nintendo DS. We had lunch in the hospital cafeteria which wasn't much better than junior high meals. Back in the waiting room, 3:45 rolls around and I start expecting to see the doctor or nurse to let us know he's finished. Armand's mom, who is on vacation with his sister and grandmother in Las Vegas, was sending me texts to ask if he was out yet. "not yet." "no sign of him." "haven't heard" I kept replying for the next hour or so. After that I promised I would let her know the second we had any information. 4:45pm rolls around and I'm starting to get anxious. How long did the doctor say? How long has it been now? We are 3.5 hours in. After 4 hours of surgery I head over to the nurse's station where there is a television blasting a bunch of gibberish to the waiting room. I'm looking and wondering and finally ask her what it all means. "It's a schedule of the day's patients and their status." she explains. "How do I know which patient is mine? It's been kind of a long time." I ask. "What's his first name?" And she calls back to find out what's going on. "He's still in the OR." she tells me after a short telephone conversation. At this point, the surgery center is closed and we are the only people left in the waiting room. It's been over 4 hours and I'm watching as all of the nurses and people I met before Armand went in, are going home. Ok... they could have made eye contact or given a thumbs up or some signal to let me know things are alright, because I was about to go find him myself.
(Unfortunately all the doors are password protected so even if I'd had the guts I couldn't have gotten in.)
It was about 5:30pm when one of the staff was exiting through the waiting room and finally let us know that they were finishing up on him. At about 6pm Dr. Shea came out to meet us, knowing that we'd be worried out of our minds. He explained that they brought in a 3rd highly qualified orthopedic surgeon and that between the 3 of them, the agree that his shoulder looks pretty damn good. Excellent news! He said that at first his shoulder looked pretty pulverized, a lot of scarring and damage to be repaired. The Latarjet took longer than expected but finally everything was complete and he was in the back waking up. At about 6 we were finally allowed to go see him. I texted his mother and let her know that everything was ok and went in to see Armand.
I can't lie, he looked a hot, hot mess. He was all pale and groggy and couldn't form coherent sentences or open his eyes. All he kept saying was "Eye ppp....I popppp..." So I asked the nurse if they had any ice pops, then baby fed him a blue otter pop. Which he promptly threw up and asked for another. We got him to sit up and it was clear that any motion at all made him extremely ill. As much as I hate throwing up and it turns my stomach to watch/hear/smell anyone puking, the concern so far outweighed the disgust, that I realized it didn't even bother me at all. The RN gave him an IV motion sickness dose and also a little patch that is supposed to help with the nausea. She showed us how to use the sling and the cryo-cuff, and told us when and how to administer the prescribed pain medication (percocet.) Then we wheeled him to the car and were on our way home.
As soon as we got there he said he was starving and would love some clam chowder (his favorite food.) So I rushed out to Chili's and bought him 3 bowls of the stuff, knowing he probably wouldn't keep any of it down. He threw up 3 more times in the night along with once in the morning and the 2 times back at the hospital. When he finally became coherent enough to care, he was frustrated with feeling sick and not being able to hold down food. I explained to him that he was under for over 4.5 hours and that no one's body would embrace that much anesthesia. I showed him the list of medications used during surgery, and 9 out of the 12 listed were checked off, plus one written in the "other" category. He seemed to understand then why he was feeling so shitty. I also relayed what Dr. Shea told us about how good it looked and that if this doesn't work he wouldn't know what to do. Armand seemed to be satisfied with that and said it was worth a few hours of barfing.
I've been spoon feeding him clam chowder, applesauce, Wendy's frosty and whatever else he wants. If he needs to readjust, or go to the bathroom or ANYTHING at all, I have been by his side. I barely slept, waking up every 2 hours at best, but I am living for someone else these days and when he suffers, I suffer. No matter how much I think I could complain, I'm not in the least bit unhappy with being here for him every step of the way.