A Little History... well, not SO little... Part 4

I arrive at the hospital at 5AM for my surgery. They were running a little behind so I had to sit in the waiting room for over an hour. I was already in panic mode, so this waiting didn't help. When they finally called my name, I was literally in the elevator getting ready to leave the building, because I couldn't stand it anymore.

They took me back and had me change into one of those very flattering and stylish gowns (sarcastically speaking of course). They had me put my hair up in a darling matching bonnet (lol) and started running IV lines and taking my stats. Blood pressure was through the ROOF (go figure).  They told me this is normal for the surgical floor, due to nerves. My surgeon, Dr. C came in and reminded me about possibly losing my voice, if not partially, then fully, due to the location of my vocal chords. He also told me the surgery would last about 2 hours, etc. etc. (can't remember much more than that). 

Finally I was left alone. I stayed on that stupid cot against the wall in the corner of this bland white room for what seemed like hours.  I was realizing more and more that I was fixing to literally let someone cut my throat! OMG what in the world was I doing!? When I heard them come in to get me, I turned over and faced the wall, curled into the fetal position and told them the surgery wasn't going to happen, that I couldn't handle it, that I was scared, that I didn't want...

The next thing I know, I have very blurry vision, and my throat was sore, but my head was POUNDING. My 2 hour surgery had lasted just over FIVE and a half hours. I vaguely remember hearing Dr. C talking to the nurses telling them it was the worst thyroid he had ever seen in the 30 years he had been doing thyroidectomys (yeah, um, thanks doc). He was reminding them to check the drainage tube and to "force drain" it every 30 minutes to an hour and that he would be back later. My head was POUNDING!  Everything went black.  They must have given me some pain or sleeping meds or something.

When I woke up, it was just the nurse and I in the room now and I opened my mouth to let her know my head was excruciatingly painful, but nothing came out! I thought to myself, omg he was right, I will never speak, sing or laugh out loud again! Thru blurred eyes and a painful head, I motioned for the nurse with my hand and pointed at my head and made a fist symbol (ie, my head is pounding) and she said, "oh your head must be hurting quite badly right about now". She tried to give me a tablet, but it was not going to go down (um duh after throat surgery?) So she injected something into my IV and I went to sleep again, for a while.

I kept waking up with severe migranes (I never have migranes but these were terrible) and her routine was to put me out again and again since I couldn't swallow or speak. She was really nice, and would often cool me off with a cool washcloth. The forced dranage wasn't fun at all, but it had to be done.

Long story a little short, I finally got to go home a few days later. Healing at home is so much nicer, in my book. The doctor had come back in before I left and instructed me to take 2400mg of calcium per day since I would no longer be producing calcium, and to come back in and see him in a week, and that the stitches were desolvable.

To be continued (the real battle begins)...