Thyroid Surgery

On my last post, written on January 25th, I said that the next step in this whole thyroid process is that I had to wait for a scheduler to call me to set up the date of surgery. Since the process of getting an appointment at U of M was quite complicated, I assumed the surgery date would be even more so.

A woman from scheduling called me on Monday, the 27th to schedule the surgery. I had already planned to ask for the first available Thursday (the doctor operates on Tuesdays and Thursdays) because I figured Jerry could take Thursday and Friday off work, and then he'd be free on the weekend as well to help me out if needed.

Apparently, there was a canceled surgery on January 30th--just a few days later. I said I'll take it! It all happened so fast that I didn't really have time to even work myself up, haha. From everything I'd read and based on the consult I'd had with the doctor, I felt like it was a straight-forward surgery and relatively simple.

I wasn't given an arrival time until Wednesday; I was to be there at noon on Thursday, with a surgery time of 2:00. The operating room was booked for 3-1/2 hours, which kind of scared me because I thought that felt like a long time for what seemed like a "simple" surgery. They said I'd be able to leave 1-3 hours after surgery, depending on how I'm doing afterward.

That part made me nervous; when I'd left my biopsy, I was back and in the ER just a few hours later. I would actually have preferred that they keep me overnight after surgery! However, it was reassuring that the surgery was likely no big deal.

Jerry and went up to Ann Arbor for a noon arrival on Thursday and I checked in for surgery. (Once again, the receptionist--a different one--thought Jerry was my son. I might as well just accept that I look very old for my age.) The system they have is pretty cool--Jerry would receive continuous text message updates before, during, and after surgery to keep him informed of what was going on. We sat in the waiting room for a little while after we arrived and it was so interesting to people watch!

The room was filled with about 20 Amish people--men, women, and kids--who I'm assuming were waiting on someone to come out of surgery. I loved seeing that not a single one of them was on a cell phone; they were all talking and laughing with each other, reading "real" books, a couple of women were even hand-sewing(!), and the kids were on the floor playing with actual toys instead of on tablets.

I know this makes me sound ancient, but I really miss the days when a waiting room was an opportunity to have a quick chat with a stranger about current events or whatever, and there were outdated magazines to look through, and a sense of camaraderie among everyone waiting their turn. It was refreshing to see this group of people using the time to chat with each other.

Anyway, when it was my turn to go back for surgery, I was taken to an area with a hospital bed and monitors and a curtain around it. My nurse gave me a gown and said I had to take off literally everything--including my underwear?!--and put on the gown. I would have liked to keep my underwear on and I have no idea why I could not, but I did what I was asked and the nurse asked all the appropriate questions in preparation surgery.

While he was doing that, someone else gave me an IV and got me hooked up to some monitors. I was a little nervous after my IV--I've never had a painful IV before, but this one was bothering me pretty badly. She'd gotten blood all over my arm and even swapped out my blanket because it had blood on it. I told Jerry it was a sign we should turn around and go home and forget about the surgery, haha. You all know how anxious I am!

After that, Jerry was able to come wait with me. My cousin, who is a nurse practitioner in the ENT department there, came to visit for a few minutes and she brought one of the doctors on my team with her. She assured me that I had truly the best team I could ask for (and I 100% trust her opinion). The doctor she introduced me to was SO nice and fantastic at answering my questions and super patient with me. I had been ridiculously nervous, but after speaking to them, I felt much more comfortable with the surgery.

The anesthesiologist came to talk to me next, and he was just as great. He's British and has a fun sense of humor; he made me feel comfortable with the anesthesia part. Finally, my surgeon came in to talk to me about the plan. I got the impression that the surgery would be very simple and nothing to worry about. They were only removing the left thyroid, so the chances of needing thyroid medications after surgery are low.

The surgeon said I'd be ready to head home shortly after surgery and that most people are fine with just the usual tylenol/motrin cycle for pain for a day or two. I certainly would not object to "real" pain meds, but it was nice to know that the post-op pain would likely be no big deal.

When it was finally time for my surgery, I said goodbye to Jerry and was taken back to the operating room. Each time I've experienced that for surgeries, it feels surreal. I think it's a combination of my nerves and knowing what's going to happen there, along with the the hustle of everyone doing their jobs to prepare for surgery. I just wanted them to hurry up and put me under anesthesia.

And the next thing I remember is waking up in (what I think was) the same place I'd been for pre-op. The details are kind of fuzzy now, but I remember being in an enormous amount of pain. My throat felt SO tight and I could barely swallow. The nurses were working on getting me stable and comfortable but I was just not expecting the amount of pain that I was in. They asked my pain level and while I wanted to say 10, I knew that everyone probably says that and it's not taken seriously, so I said "8". They gave me more pain meds in my IV. Still no change. More meds. Still no change.

[Side note: I have a ridiculously high tolerance to pain meds. My only guess as to why is because when I broke my jaw, I was on three different narcotics for over eight weeks and it made me much more tolerant of them, I guess. A tolerance to pain meds isn't something you can really explain to doctors, though, because they think you are just seeking drugs.]

They eventually maxed me out on the IV and oral pain meds--all were in disbelief that I was even still conscious--and my pain felt like it was about a 5 or 6. I don't know why I was in so much pain--whether something went wrong during surgery, or my pain tolerance is that of a five-year old child, or my medication tolerance was working against me--but I was not feeling great at all and I was totally regretting the surgery at that point.

The whole care team was SO fantastic, though. Every nurse and doctor and that I interacted with was super kind and caring and helpful. I didn't have any post-op complications that I know of (thankfully no hematoma!) and was able to leave when I felt my pain was under control. (The doctor said that everything went as expected during surgery.)

The next couple of hours were a blur. Lots of meds (and apple juice!) later, I was finally starting to get sleepy enough to go home. Jerry wheeled me out to the car and drove home. My pain was about a 5-6 and I was SO hungry. And tired. I had been awake for about 20 hours at that point (minus the surgery time, about 1-1/2 hours) and hadn't eaten in nearly 30 hours. I wanted to eat but I was extremely nauseous--probably due to the pain meds--and I only managed a few bites of a banana. And for the life of me, I could not sleep. I was wide awake until I finally quit trying to fall asleep and just got up out of bed at 3:00 or so.

I have been avoiding writing about all of this, because I just don't have many positive things to say yet. My outlook right now is not optimistic, but it's real. So, with that in mind, here is where I am at...

I was stunned at how terrible I felt. I wish my expectations had been much worse so that when I woke up from surgery, I would maybe be pleasantly surprised. But the opposite had happened. I spent the next day in a lot of pain and nausea. I was able to take off my bandage 24 hours post-op and I kind of wish I just hadn't looked. My skin looks so bad--very saggy and wrinkled. I can't see the scar yet, but I was never really worried about a scar. I just didn't expect the rest of my skin to look like this.

I am not ready to post a picture yet. I just feel really ugly right now and I'm still in a lot of pain. I've been coughing really hard and that definitely doesn't help with the pain. It made my neck muscles feel incredibly tight and sore. The coughing has gotten better since yesterday, though. My post-op appointment is in a couple of weeks, so hopefully I'll learn more about whether this is all "normal". I hoped I would feel better as far as swallowing, but it honestly feels even harder to swallow now than it did before surgery. I'm guessing this is due to swelling and that it will get better. After all, that was the main reason for this surgery!

So, while I'm feeling like a "negative Nancy" right now, I know it's early yet--just a few days post-op--and I hope that things will get better. It's just hard to do that when I'm in pain and coughing and knowing that I was "supposed" to have been feeling great the day after surgery. I guess only time will tell!