…is not something I’d have thought I’d be setting up on my new phone, but here we are.

(This is post-surgery stuff, which will be peppering the blog for the next few weeks or so.)

Fun fact: I have been in four car accidents, including one where the car ended in a ditch, yet have never had surgery.

That will change on Friday…but not because of a car accident.

In fact, the source of the surgery is one of those little mysteries, but in this case, a mystery that needs to be yoinked out of my body.

Nice fatty mass you got there

It all began (vaguely ominous music starts here) about a year and a half ago, when my body thought it might be fun to try on a really good kidney infection. As part of the diagnosis, I got my first CT scan. This revealed a 2 cm mass of fatty tissue in my chest where no masses of fatty tissue should be. My family doctor thought it was nothing to get alarmed about, but did put me on the proverbial slow boat for an MRI, a procedure I would not wish on anyone. This lead to an appointment with a thoracic surgeon, who ordered another CT scan, a PFT and a PET scan. I got a little of everything.

In the end, the conclusion was that although the mass was just sitting there, all quiet-like, it shouldn’t be there, as it could one day turn evil, so it was best to remove it.

The removal is on Friday. A tiny camera may be involved, which is both neat in a modern tech kind of way, but also something I don’t really want to think about too much, since the camera will be inside me.

Pre-surgery pep talk, but without the pep

Today was my preadmission clinic for the surgery, in which a nurse and an anesthesiologist asked me a bunch of questions, told me things, took my weight, measured my height and blood pressure, looked at my teeth and sent me off to surrender blood and have my first-ever EKG (or ECG, if you prefer).

My blood pressure was a bit high, but not alarmingly high, so the nurse took it again after she was wrapping up, thinking, I suppose, that my anxiety level would be lower at the end of our talk. My blood pressure was actually higher still. She suggested getting a home kit for blood pressure just to, you know, see if it’s high when I’m checking it at home and relaxed and wearing slippers or something. She again assured me it was not alarmingly high.

The questions were mostly expected–allergies, any prescription drugs I might be taking, stuff like that. The things they told me were also pretty much what I expected, mostly to do with what to eat/drink or not eat/drink before surgery.

I was advised to leave all tech doodads like my watch and phone at home, and go to the hospital with only my keys and Compass card, like some sort of caveman. They suggested someone (Jeff) could being me a bag of technology (BOT) after the operation, so I don’t have to just lay back and stare up at the ceiling of the semi-private room I’ll be in. I’ll also be able to stare at my phone.

(As a side note, my new phone is so boring and has so little installed on it, that I barely looked at it during the entire time I was at the hospital today, which was a little over three hours. I did adjust the clock on the lock screen, though.)

The clinic itself was supposed to last just under two hours and started at 9:30. By 10:15 the nurse was done and I awaited the anesthesiologist. A few minutes later a receptionist came in and said she was running late and wouldn’t be there until 11:00, so I could wander off for a bit and get drunk or something, if I wanted.

Instead, I found where Admitting is in the main hospital building, which is named after Jim Pattison, because what’s the point of having money if you can’t lord it over the populace by using it to get your name slapped onto every hospital? I asked a nice woman at the Information desk in the lobby and she pointed to Admitting, which was literally behind the desk. I was practically looking directly at the sign. Feeling like an idiot, I thanked her and went to buy the antibacterial stuff I’m supposed to use as part of the two showers pre-surgery (one the night before, one the morning of). Having done these things, I headed back up a bit early and lo, the anesthesiologist came in, also early!

She explained a bunch of stuff, and answered a few questions, such as how long it takes for the IV to knock you out (15-30 seconds) and where they’d likely put the IV. She seemed to think the bulging veins on my tiny, girlie hands would do nicely.

She also went over some pain remedies that might be applied after surgery, if I give consent. A few sounded less optional, as apparently a lot of people can get nauseous or barf after the anesthetic, so they’ll pump me full of something to reduce the chance of barfing. Because the surgery will be in the chest area, the risk of higher-than-normal pain is, well, higher, because every time I breathe in or out, it might hurt. And I breathe like, all the time.

Fun with needles, both theoretical and hands-on

One option she described was an epidural, in which you get an injection near your spine to help relieve pain. This sounds worse to me than the actual pain.

Another was a regional anesthetic, sort of like a Novocaine shot at the dentist, but applied to the chest area. I’d probably be OK with this. I was also shown a pain scale from 1 to 10, complete with a face that looked very neutral at 1 and kind of like the Doom guy after getting killed by 10 (which was labelled “Excruciating”). They aim to keep pain to a 4 (“Moderate”) or lower.

She did try to reassure me that the incision will be small, so it’s not like they’re flaying me open and then having to use 1000 staples to hold everything together afterward. This should help to reduce the overall pain/discomfort post-surgery.

The part that probably bummed me out the most was how both the nurse and the anesthesiologist thought it was likely I’d be kept for two nights, not just one. Boo. I am booing now, but it is quite possible I may ask for a third night when the time comes, depending on how I feel.

With the talking parts done, I went to the lab on the main floor to get blood taken. I took a number, which was 69 (hehe). The number last served was 30, so it looked like a long wait was ahead of me.

Which was accurate.

I was initially sitting and waiting next to an older man who would occasionally cough into both of his hands, then would set these same hands on the armrests of his chair, all the better to smear his germs around. Sometimes he just coughed hands-free.

I moved to a chair across the room.

When I finally went in, a little over an hour after arriving, the tech asked if I had a preferred arm and based on previous experience, I immediately said no, because it would not matter. Both of my arms suck, as determined by science. She tested the right arm, then tested the left arm. Then she went back to the right arm. She got the needle in, then noted a minor complication–I was not producing any blood. She worked the needle a bit, apologizing if it was painful, then struck gold, so to speak, and quickly filled at least four vials. It sounds a bit awful the way I’ve described it, but the worst it felt was slightly uncomfortable for a moment or two. No biggie, especially considering the human pincushion experiences of my recent past.

Next was the EKG. I only had to wait a little over 20 minutes for this and it was easy-peasy. I lay down on the bed, the tech attached 10 electrodes and after maybe 15 or 20 seconds, was done. There was no sensation at all. I was a bit concerned about the electrodes being removed from my chest afterward, as I am a bit…hirsute. But even that part was fine.

And that concluded my visit to VGH for today.

I’m not exactly worried about the surgery, but I am…thinking about it.

I was originally going to end this post with an animated surgery GIF, but that proved to be not one of my better ideas, so use your imagination instead.