Randy:
We have noticed a couple of changes in pre-op procedures even in the six months since the transplant. I noticed the first change right away when I went back to spend time with Holly before the operation. She was on the gurney with a white hose attached to her gown and the other end was attached to a heater that looked sounded like an old "soft bonnet" hair dryer, not the bullet shaped missile tops but the bag-over-the-curler type women used to use before blow dryers.
The device is called "Bair Paws" and they were using because studies indicate that warming patients before surgery reduces the risk of infection. It probably also helps them relax and stay comfortable.
The second change is a bar code on the wrist band. This the square type code that advertisers and the post office are using. There are still a lot of questions about name and birth date which may be about confirmation and assessment. It was interesting that at least at one juncture the code was read by a device to register the presence of the band electronically. This is the second day I have noticed that they are using the bar code when collecting additional information. So it seems to be a part of the routine information control.
Holly introduced her own innovation.We were talking and she said "Give me some of that tape." so I gave her some tape from the cart in the prep room and she taped a note to her gown. Every nurse and anesthesiologist said oh a note and Holly let them know that it is reminder for the pathologist to take pictures of, measure and weigh her formerly native kidneys. The last took particular delight. "You've got a point, and you want to get it across."
------Holly, later------
Randy tells me I looked like I'd been through plenty of trauma when they brought me to my room after surgery. Sweating, pale, breathing hard around that stomach tube.
Coming out of everything, I had probably the most physically miserable 48 hours of my life. This time, I had the urinary catheter, an IV, a stomach-emptying tube going into my nose and down my throat, and oxygen. From there, I also had some trouble with pain control -- my own trouble, not the U's. I again had a little pushbutton "pain pump" in my hand to release the IV painkiller, but was either fast asleep or too woozy to give myself enough. So. Pain, dry mouth, dry throat, occasional choking feeling when not getting enough oxygen.
The "last dawdler in the store" thing played against me a little -- on Thursday night, my nurse really, really wanted me to "sit on the side of the bed and dangle." The op had taken some 3-4 hours, probably getting me out of post-op around 6 p.m. And here I was being asked in some hybrid toddler-medical lingo "Do you want to dangle?"
I made clear, I thought, kindly and firmly that no, I had no intentions of dangling anything that evening.
Then, Randy says, I was told I'd be getting blood-pressure lowering meds.
Prior to the operation, my mother said several times on the phone, "I'm glad you're able to stick up for yourself," which I think was her permission not to be the "nice girl" she had fully intended to raise.Permission or not, a certain amount of spirit did serve me well.
Told the name of the med I'd be getting, I said "Why?"
"It's a blood-pressure drug."
"But why?"
"For your blood pressure."
"I'm not asking what it is, I'm asking why you want to give it to me."
It turned out it was because my upper number was all of 1 digit higher than it should be. (And she was not kidding.)
I refused this help, too, even more firmly. When it's an existential struggle just to stay awake for someone to take your vitals, it shouldn't be too surprising if your BP is up. (We may also have been having a dangling debate while the nurse was taking my blood pressure.)
After two more offers to help me sit on the side of the bed, the nurse grumbled, "Well, it's my job to encourage you to sit up and move, and so I'll keep on doing it."
Still, I didn't hear another thing about "dangling" that day.
