As luck would have it, the surgeon had a cancellation for the very next week on the day that he does surgery at the hospital that I was so happy with. He only does surgery there one day a week and he was surprised when I said I preferred to be there. (The other option was a newer, fancier hospital much closer to my house although traffic didn’t make it that much quicker to get to.)
I’ll stop here to say I am the least medical person you will ever know. I know how the body works for the most part and love to study nutrition and exercise, but I have a very limited knowledge of medical procedures and drugs. I haven’t had much need for such and I don’t seem to retain such. I am fearful of needles and prefer not to see blood. My philosophy is that metal doesn’t belong inside of my body and I would prefer if what is inside of me just stays there.
Once I was scheduled, I went in for pre-op testing. As I waited to be called back, there was a morning prayer time over the intercom. It was short, and merely asked for our health and safety as we went through our time in that hospital. I was calm as I was called back.
I had tubes and tubes of blood taken out and a swab stuck up my nose. I have had to have Covid testing before due to exposure, but this time they really stuck it up there! I thought they were going for the mucus in my nose, but maybe they test with brain fluid??
After all of the medical stuff, they of course wanted money and to go over medical history, etc. Interspersed with the usual questions that I have answered a million times, were questions about where I had traveled recently (because of the plague) but one odd question thrown in the middle of it all was surprising to me. They asked me if I felt safe in my own home.
I admit I was taken aback- the question came out of left field. After a short pause, I told her that I definitely did feel safe, but I wanted to question her about the question. I didn’t because I fear I am becoming that old lady that starts long, drawn out conversations with people who just want to do their job and get you out of there. However, I still wonder how many people say no, they don’t feel safe. I wonder if they feel unsafe due to a partner that abuses them or if their living conditions are just not safe. I wonder when that question was added and what the hospital does if someone has the courage to honestly answer no to that question. It really got me to thinking about things I have not had worry about in my life.
I was scheduled to be at the hospital 3 days later at 5am. Let me state for anyone who hasn’t gotten this (and if you read this blog or know me at all you know) I am not a morning person!!! Arriving at 5 meant getting up before 4 so I could shower and dress (no food or makeup helped to give me a little extra sleep!) before leaving at 4:30.
Considering that I have dreaded the possibility of back surgery for years, I was fairly calm riding to the hospital. Once there, things moved rather quickly. I signed in, was taken back and in a hospital gown within minutes. I was my doctor’s first surgery of the day, so there had been no time for them to get behind- a perk of getting there so early that I will begrudgingly admit to.
The nurse who showed me to my bed and gave me a gown and socks to change into, came back soon to check on me. As she began to ask questions and type into her computer station she had rolled in, she stopped and said, “Are you Tim Lunceford’s wife?” When I said yes, she went on to tell me that she was the ex-wife of one of his best friends from high school. She had been at my wedding almost 40 years ago!
As I chatted with her about people we both knew, I spied a waving hand through the opening in the curtain. On the other side of the nurses station was the wife of my son’s best friend. I had been at her wedding a few years ago, helping Tim to DJ a very special occasion! I was beginning to feel surrounded by friends and good vibes.
Minutes later, Felecia, my son’s friend’s wife, opened the curtain and sat in the chair beside my bed. She told me what to expect and that they would take me down to surgery soon. She told me that she would take care of me afterwards. The other nurse had told me I was scheduled to spend the night, but Felecia assured me that if all went well, I would get to go home that afternoon. After we had discussed what was about to unfold, we chatted about her daughter, what was going on in our lives, how long she had been at this hospital and how much she liked it.
I have been around Felecia many times. She has always seemed rather shy and quiet. In the hospital environment, she came across differently. She was more talkative, seemed more self-assured and outgoing. I was so happy to see her in her element, to see that side of her. I have always liked her, but didn’t know her very well because usually there were so many people around who took over the conversation. It was so nice to see that she had a career that seemed to agree with her so much.
Fairly soon, a young man came to take me to surgery. He asked me what everyone asks you over and over and over in the medical profession- tell me your name and birthdate. When I did, he smiled and said that while my birthdate is 8-15-57, his birthdate was 8-15-77.
As he began to roll my bed out of its cubicle, we tried to find ways we were alike. A 64 year old white woman and a much younger 44 year old black man have lots more in common than you would guess- I learned that lesson doing my college BFA project! As we chatted and rolled down the hall, we passed doctors, nurses, administrators and custodians. Each and everyone of them spoke to us with a “Good Morning!” or a ” Good luck!”
I was put in an area where it seemed I would be all alone. My new “birthday twin” left me with well wishes and a smile. No other patients were around me and although I had really liked the guy who brought me down there, I was beginning to wonder if he had messed up and left me in the wrong spot.
Although it was a weird place to be, I had a ring side seat to an area that was full of activity. Doctors and nurses came by to get supplies from the cabinets right in front of me. To the left was a stack of shelves that held PPE- masks, gowns, hats and gloves. Staff came by grabbing items and getting ready for their next task. To the right of the cabinets were a dozen or more hooks on the wall that had bags of IV fluid lined up on them. As people would get suited up, they would get syringes and little bottles, items wrapped in paper and cellophane and then grab a bag of fluid. Once they were ready they quickly moved on.
As some time passed, I kept thinking that wherever they were going was where I was supposed to be! The amazing thing about all of this was that every person who came to gather supplies or get masked up, would take a moment to speak to me. Where I had felt so alone without Tim beside me at the last two pain blocks, I never felt alone during this whole experience. I found watching the personnel getting ready rather entertaining. After all, I watch Grey’s Anatomy every week! And this was for real!! But the thing that kept hitting me was the kindness of every person I had passed, talked to or seen.
As staff members got supplies they would say good morning or touch my foot as they walked past, wishing me well or telling me it would all be fine. I have never been in a place so warm and friendly. When I had told the doctor I wanted to be at that hospital because of how kind they had been to my father and I during that ordeal, he had reminded me that we would be in a different area with different people.
What I saw was a continuation of the kindness, compassion and professionalism that I had seen during the days I spent there with my dad. A work place seems to have a personality, usually created from the top down. A kind attitude that fills a place as big as this hospital has to be encouraged and nurtured- it was remarkable. Again.
When the nurse came to do my IV, I told her that I was going to look the other way because I didn’t like needles. While she messed with my right hand, I turned to the left just as an anesthesiologist came up on my left. She said she was going to distract me with a bunch of questions I had already answered a million times.
The nurse on my right was hurting my right hand as I talked to the doctor on my left. After some time, the nurse stopped and I turned towards her only to see that there was no IV. She had hit a vein that promptly collapsed. I had never had that happen before! Tim has had it happen and when he has told me about it, it gave me the queazies!!
As she came around to try my left hand, apologizing profusely, I asked her why she hadn’t done the numbing shot first, like most places usually did. Her response made it impossible for me to be upset. She said when I told her I hated needles, she thought the shot was just one more needle, so she skipped it! I told her I did not like needles, but I appreciated what they did for us and to please deaden my hand this time.
She did and the IV was quickly put in.
About then my surgeon was by my side with a few other people who introduced themselves and told me it was all going to be alright. I truly believed them. I saw one of them use a syringe to put something in my IV and they began to wheel me away. I guess I had been in the right place all along! I felt bad that I had doubted the guy who took me down there! And that is the last thing I remember!
By the time I was really awake again, I was back in my cubicle and Felecia was there. I had juice and the infamous graham crackers. She talked to me, told me that I had done great and that after I had some more to drink and a little time to recover, I could definitely go home. She gave me a bottle of water to add to my snack.
At one point, she told me she was going to take out the IV. She said sometimes that hurt almost as much as when it went in. I looked the other way as we talked about other things. After a few seconds I thought something must be wrong so I looked towards her and saw that the IV was gone- I had not felt a thing!
It seemed like no time until I was being helped into my clothes. Felecia wheeled me out to Tim’s truck and gave me final instructions. She and Tim helped me in and I was on the way home.
My mouth was so dry my lips stuck together and the tube they had put down my throat left me sore. I wanted to talk and talk, any kind of pain medicine does that to me, but I had to stop because my whole mouth was one dry, sticking together mess!!
Mostly I was glad that the surgery was over and that I was going home. I will forever be grateful for such a positive experience. It might not be “my side of town” or the most convenient hospital in an emergency, but if I ever have a choice, I know where I am headed.
How wonderful would it be if every time we had a problem, as serious as an illness or injury or as simple as a lost package or leaky faucet, the people we dealt with were kind and caring and compassionate? If they answered your need with positivity and joy?
I have learned in my old age that I can not control anyone but myself. I have no way of making others act a certain way or do anything. Many of the things we worry about we have absolutely no control over. Again and again I see that all I can have a tiny bit of control over is me- my attitude, my caring, my compassion.
I was truly lucky to have nurses that I knew caring for me. The other people that I encountered that were so kind made a scary day so much less scary. It showed me how much a smile, a “good morning”, a pat on the foot or arm can mean to someone. Even from a stranger!
We are so lucky in this area to have so much amazing medical talent and so many hospitals to choose from. We take for granted the amazing work that is done here in the medical field every day. I stay grateful for all of that, but I am even more grateful for the human side of those professionals that care for people every day.
