Temporal artery biopsy recovery
The same nurse that wheeled me in to the operating room brings me into the recovery area and everyone’s in a good mood. I like it. The anesthesiologist is following closely for some reason. In all my other procedures, I don’t remember one like him doing that. He gives her the rundown, including my anxiety during the procedure so that the recovery nurse is aware. The nurse is nice and likes to joke around, which works for me because I like to think I’m the same way. Medical professionals with senses of humor always, in my opinion, make situations easier and I appreciated this nurse for that trait in her. We trade sarcasm and jokes and it just made the process a little better for me.
Then she notices that I’m struggling with the way I’m positioned in the bed and raises the head of it, so I can sit up. Because I’m still a little woozy, I’m slow in catching the sheet that was covering my chest. Luckily, I catch it in time because I look across the recovery area and notice two men looking my way. I’m not saying they were watching me, but it was the position of our respective beds that made looking at each other really easy. Another nurse quickly catches on and pulls the curtain around my bed, shielding me from view. My recovery nurse apologizes and gets down to business, rechecking my vitals. Then she offers a snack and juice. She actually gives me two juices because she noticed that I was dehydrated. This made a difference to me because not all nurses take that extra step, no matter how much we hope they do.
Then, since available space is minimal, she asks who the one person is that I would like to come back and help me. While I wait for her to go and get my sister, another nurse comes and de-accesses my port then starts rushing around. Right in front of me, she starts talking to the other nurses about closing up and leaving by 6:30. Shouldn’t it be a safety concern for one nurse to be left alone with a patient and their caregiver? Not that my recovery nurse would be in any specific danger from my sister or I, but seriously? Anyway, she unhurriedly gives us post-op instructions, especially as it pertains to the wound and leaves so I can get up and get dressed.
So, my sister helps me get dressed and helps me get into the wheelchair. Yes, the same hospital procedure where the patient gets wheeled out to their transportation. My sister, the amazing woman she is, offers to push me for the nurse. My sister is used to pushing me in things like wheelchairs (and she never complains because she’s awesome like that). The whole time, from the recovery room to my dad’s truck, the nurse, my sister, my dad, and my sister-in-law are joking around and I’m loving it. It made a scary experience into something more tolerable, not that I ever want to have to do it again.
My message for this entry? No matter the situation, try to make the best of it. You may not like what’s necessary, but it’s up to you to keep it from being horrible. Remember…it’s YOUR life.
Next…recovery at home.