Two weeks ago, I underwent surgery for a total knee replacement of my right knee. I had my left knee done four years ago, so I knew what I was getting into. Despite the pain and therapy I knew was coming, I was already looking forward to someday soon walking without pain or a limp!
Everyone has their own experience of surgery, but I decided I wanted to share a few blog posts about my experience. This is a longer post, so sit back with whatever you are drinking and enjoy!
The day started, as my grandson would say, “at the butt-crack of dawn.” My alarm went off at 4:15 a.m. I had to take a shower with special soap and have my daughter get me to the hospital by 5:30 a.m. As an aside, I sometimes think the surgeons have us report so early for surgery so we’re already sleepy and, therefore, ready to be put to sleep pharmaceutically!!!
Once registered, we proceeded to the “A.M. Admit” area, where initial preparations were made, including this very special inflatable gown to keep me warm, and the surgical resident arriving to put the surgeon’s initials on my right knee so that we were all on the same page about which knee was having surgery! From there, I climbed onto a cart (which I later found out was cart #984). Once on the cart, I was pushed into an elevator, went down one floor and then to the “Pre-op” area. And this is where it got interesting!
I was wheeled into this large room, where there was one nurse clad in blue scrubs. The rest of the room was filled with empty, clean carts all pushed into a bunch like a herd of cattle, evidently waiting for patients. I asked the nurse if I was in a storeroom. He laughed and told me that soon all those carts would be filled with people like me, just waiting to have surgery. And…..he wasn’t kidding. Soon, orderlies came and got the carts one by one and returned shortly with people. So, the room full of empty carts was full of carts with people on them and nurses, doctors, and anesthesiologists were buzzing around the room, ducking behind the curtains, and visiting with the patients. Blood pressures, oxygen saturations, and temperatures were checked all around the room. Each patient was asked their name and birthdate repeatedly. Each patient was asked what surgery they were having that day.
The anesthesiologist who was going to be taking care of me during surgery came to meet me and tell me about the anesthesia he planned to use for my surgery. He introduced himself with what I thought was a very Scandinavian-sounding name. Not being a person to just let that go, I commented on his name. He told me it was very Norwegian. I told him that I wasn’t Norwegian at all, but that I had attended St. Olaf College, and by the time I graduated, I thought I was at least a part Norwegian!! He exclaimed, “St. Olaf?!? My grandfather, my dad and my brother all went to St. Olaf!” I, once again, could not help myself and replied, “So, what are you? The family rebel?” He told me that he went to a sister college of St. Olaf. I told him he was lucky he said the one he did, because if he mentioned a different sister college, I would have had to ask for a different anesthesiologist! One would think I would be careful what I say to the person who is about to hold my life in his hands for several hours, but no…..I just kept talking. He assured me that he knew St. Olaf’s’ fight song, even though he didn’t attend St. Olaf.
The anesthesiologist went to the operating room to prepare, and I prepared to go to surgery, including a visit with my surgeon who stopped by. And then I waited…..and waited….and waited. I watched as people who arrived in pre-op after me left for their surgeries, and their carts came back empty. I remembered a concept I learned when I was studying for my MBA. It’s called FIFO – or first in, first out. This means that the products that come into the store first are sold off the shelves first. I was reflecting that this pre-op area was not operating in FIFO fashion. As time went on, I realized that this pre-op area, for me, was operating in FILO – first in, last out fashion, and I was going to be the last one out! It was during this time that I noticed that each cart on which patients had come and gone had a number on it. A nurse across the room was cleaning carts, and I asked her what the number was on my cart. She didn’t bat an eye as she said, “You are on cart 984!”
Finally, after everyone else had left for surgery and I figured new patients were about to start arriving, an orderly came and took me on cart 984 to the operating room. As we entered the operating room, the orderly and I were discussing the music they might play during my surgery. As I climbed from my now familiar and beloved cart 984 (after all we had just been through quite a lot together!), Dr. Scandinavian heard us and said, “Music? Do you want music? I’ll sing for you.” And with that he promptly burst into the St. Olaf College fight song.
As cart 984 was wheeled out of the room, we could all hear the strains of “Um! Yah! Yah!”
We come from St. Olaf, we sure are the real stuff.
Our team is the cream of the colleges great.
We fight fast and furious, our team is injurious.
Tonight Carleton College will sure meet its fate.
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah!, Um! Yah! Yah!
Um! Yah! Yah! Yah!
Shortly after the fight song I was (gratefully) unconscious. Thank you Cart #984 for an interesting ride for the start of my surgical day.