Your Effin' Bladder

Everything in the surgery went as expected. This was my first morning surgery, and I may only schedule morning surgeries from now on. Pre-op nurses are more chipper, you don't have to starve all day, and you go "under" near the scheduled surgery time. I spent 4 hours in recovery where I listened in on a lot of other patient's stories. The pain killer they give me right out of surgery takes the pain away, but does not let me sleep like most people. The gal next me had a hip replaced and was hallucinating on her painkillers. She kept calling our female nurse Ted. That's the kind of pain killer I want!!!!

And I am not sure, but I think the gentleman across the aisle was knocking on death's door. He left Recovery to go back into surgery...maybe? It's not as if I could really see these people, so I had to infer a lot. For some reason, I inferred death. Morbid much?

My post op nurse was very diligent, but not too talkative, so I asked if Kyle could come back and entertain me. Nope! Recovery was too crowded (and full of inferred death) to have extra patrons around (one draw back of a normally timed surgery).

I even got back to my room before dark, so I chit chatted with my parents for a bit. I had insisted that Kyle not spend the night with me, but luckily he didn't listen and ordered a cot for the room. Needless to say, we knew the routine at Research Medical Center since this was my 4th surgery in 15 months. I even fell asleep for the presumable night by 10pm. We were tucked all in and then my bladder started screaming.

Kyle dutifully helped me sit up (which was challenging being I had a head, neck, chest, and stomach incision) and roll my IV into the bathroom. Nothing came out. So we wheeled back to the bed. 5 minuets later came, I could not take it any longer and had to try again. Kyle, again with a smile on his face, rolled me to the bathroom. Nothing! This was our pattern every 10-20 min throughout the ENTIRE night. Yes, the ENTIRE night. The only difference was Kyle's smile transitioned into a grin, then to smirk, then a frown, and finally a "you have got to be kidding me" scowl. I am not sure how he didn't just say "NO, April...you can't pee...deal with it."

Around 6 am, I finally asked Estella, my very efficient Jamaican nurse, if there was something wrong with me. She retrieved a machine (a Doppler...I think) that was able to measure the amount of liquid in my bladder. Who knew such a machine existed? My instincts were right, it was full. I guess with the previously removed catheter and general anesthesia, things slow down in the pee area. I finally had some success later that morning, but poor Kyle was too tired to celebrate with me. His loyalty was solidified that night with all the fruitless trips to the bathroom. Of course, that's what he gets for waking me up with his snoring for the last 9 years. Payback is a bitch, Farmer!