Whoa! I think I just got hit by a Mack truck. Third time is a charm, it is said. My third surgery this year and boy do I feel it. I felt okay yesterday but today I feel awful. Well, I guess I could feel worse but I sure don't feel well. But I jump ahead. Let us go back to last Friday, which I have overlooked in the sadness of the weekend.
Friday was heart scan day. A very busy day, indeed. Had tea with Mary after doing some deliveries and visiting the post office. Then I scurried home so I would have time to walk downtown. I am getting used to walking to downtown Walnut Creek. It is the perfect distance for a nice walk one way and if I feel like it I walk both directions. If I don't, Andy comes to pick me up. Well, I left at about 11 a.m. and by noon I was at the corner of Mt. Diablo and Broadway. From there I visited my friends at the bank. Then I went to Nordstrom to visit another friend and show off my cool shirt. From there I strolled over to Kaiser. They saw me almost immediately. But it was interesting that there were two of us in the waiting room and we were both Margarets. I'm glad Kaiser is very, very careful about identity checking. Who knows what procedure I might have had if they didn't constantly ask for all my information. Anyway, the techncian remembered me from my CT scan so it was like coming home. She gave me a short EKG and then she attached an IV needle and drew some blood. Carefully she marked the vial of blood with a sticker and a twin sticker was attached to my IV. This vial already had some kind of radioactive dye in it and she put the vial away for about an hour. She gave me the choice of sitting in the waiting room or lying on a gurney in the scanning room. I chose the latter and read while I waited. At the appropriate time she came back and checked the vial, showed me the ID number and matched it against the ID on me. She wheeled me over to the modestly sized scanner and its display machine. The scanner was miniscule compared to the bone and CT scanners. Just a plate attached to a stand. The display that showed what was going on was much larger. The display showed three things. One rectange showed a bar graph. One rectange showed a verticle x/y graph and then my heart's radioactive image was displayed in the upper left hand corner. I assume that is what is was. It kept pulsing like a heart. And it shimmered which I assume my heart does. Don't you think?
Anyway, she reinjected my blood and started the scan which lasted 7 minutes or 50,000 somethings. I saw that number begin at 00000 and grow. After lying still for 7 minutes the machine seemed to go back to its default and then it displayed maybe a dozen or so pictures of my heart! The technician decided to do it again for 6 minutes and then we were done. Very exciting. And so I was done with things medical for that week.
Monday drove out to Antioch nice and early and had tea with my good friend Hadassah. We had a nice chat for two hours until I had to go to my pre-surgery physical. Dr. Rolle is my surgeon for the Porta-Cath. We went over what was going to happen and my whole medical history and the history of the world just to make sure nothing was missed. I kept thinking that his name was familiar and finally I told him so. He said he had worked for Kaiser out of Walnut Creek for 30 years and so I figured it out. He was Sonia's surgeon when she had her appendix out. I am pretty sure. So that was nice to have that connection.
Tuesday morning we drove out again to Antioch early, early, early. My surgery was scheduled for 9:46! Yes, that is correct. Not 9:45, not 9:30 but 9:46. And I was there in plenty of time. I recognized lots of the nurses. After all, this is my third surgery in seven weeks! And lo and behold, a number of the nurses remembered....Andy! For gosh sakes. I'm the patient with the flower in her hair. I'm the nice lady who is silly enough to make jokes before she gets wheeled in for the operation. But no, they remember him. Why? because, they say, he always has a nice smile on his face. Humph! Okay, one nurse remembered me and the nurse anethesthist remembered me. That is about 2 for 10. Humph again. But I am wandering from the narrative. I went through the whole drill, getting undressed, getting an IV, getting the cool leg wraps for my massage during the procedure, answering questions, and then, finally I listened to my guided imagery CD. That still does the trick for me. Just really relaxes me. So when they finally wheeled me in to surgery I was thinking about my cheering section of friends, all supporting me, all waving and smiling. It is such a comforting feeling. I slide onto the operating table and get comfortable. This time I was having a different anesthesia. Amber said it was a local with something to make me happy. I wouldn't have any feeling of discomfort but I might remember what was going on. So she stretches out my arm, puts a mask over my face and now, boom, I remember nothing. I don't even know if she said anything after the mask went over my face. The next thing I remember is waking up and knowing that I was waking up very slowly. Consciously knowing that I wanted to take my time. Very strange. I finally was awake enough to say something and as it happened last time, once they saw that I was okay they sent me on my way. And I was fine. I went home and took a nap. I decided to go to my book group at 7 but was tired by 8 and left before we got to talking about our books, Molokai and The Guernsey Tea and Potatoe Peel Society (I don't think that is right but I can't remember the correct title. You know what I'm talking about though, right?). But it was nice to see the ladies and there was much to chat about before the formal book discussion.
Then the Mack Truck hit me. I slept well but woke up this morning feeling pretty yucky. Nauseated and head achy and very, very sore. So much for the local being easier. So much for the vicodin. I responded to a couple of emails and then collapsed back into bed. Couple of hours later I'm feeling better but I think I am done with the vicodin. I'll stick with tylenol!
One last thing. Sunday night I had a strange dream. I had been drafted and sent to Iraq! I remember thinking in my dream, how did this happen? This is crazy. But then I woke up and it made perfect sense. My body is preparing for battle. I am going to fight the big fight. And this porta-cath being implanted is the next step in the fight. I'm ready.