Looks like I am still here, and for that I am grateful.
Thursday, December 12,
2013: Surgery Day
“The sun is shining bright this morning,” I tell mom as the
cab driver enters the FDR drive. I took a picture of the sun between the Brooklyn
and Manhattan bridges. I then posted on Facebook with a good morning message.
The responses were fast and very encouraging. Well wishes for a successful
surgery, and speedy recovery from friends. I fought back tears. Oddly, I felt
calm with occasional nervousness. The sun was my guide. I knew I was in good
hands.
“You’re in the wrong building; you need to go to East 63rd
between 2nd and 3rd Avenue” the woman at the front desk
of ambulatory surgery said to mom and I. “Really? This is where I had my
surgery last time,” I replied. The woman checked my appointment, which was at
10:30. It was now 9:20am. She said my doctor was performing the surgery at East
63rd Street as opposed to Lenox Hill Hospital at 77th
Street. We proceeded to the 6 train. In walking fast, I tried to keep the
crutches from slipping from my hands. The train was crowded but thankfully, the
next stop, 68th Street-Hunter College was ours. As we got off, I
felt like we were in an episode of America’s Top Model, trying to find the
address. We walked in the brisk cold, bypassing oncoming crowds. As we got to the
address on East 63rd Street, it was a dentist office. “I think we’re
at the wrong place,” mom said. I called my doctor’s office when I was told we
had to be on East 64th Street. Thankfully, that was a block away.
“Welcome Ms. Fulton, we’ve been waiting for you,” the woman at
the front desk said. “Good morning, we were told to go to Lenox Hill only to be
told to come here. But the important thing is we’re here,” I said. The woman
was very nice. We went to a room where I needed to be registered; that is where
you get that cool ID bracelet for surgery. As a nice man verified my
information, my doctor walks in. I signed some forms and off I went.
“You need to take THAT off now!” a nurse yelled at me while
putting my things in my assigned locker. The “that” she was referring to was my
crucifix I wear around my neck. The way she said it made me emotional. She gestured in a way as if seeing it bothered
her. I said okay and took it off putting it in my jacket pocket. The crabby
nurse who I overheard say to someone she was “tired,” took my blood pressure. “It’s
too high! This is no good!” I wanted to say, “No shit lady!” but I composed
myself and looked away. I had my gown on already and was waiting to be called
upstairs. When Ms. Crabby left, I read a few prayers from a prayer book and
asked God to keep me calm. I put it in my bag in the locker. I tried to do so
without Crabby seeing me. As I sat back down, another nurse approached me with
mom. When they asked me how I was, I cried. The nurse put her hands on my
shoulders and said, “Its okay honey.” I wiped the tears saying, “I can’t, I can’t…my
nerves.” I then realized Ms. Crabby was there and she rubbed my back saying, “It’s
gonna be alright.” I didn’t want her to touch me, but instead go away. Mom
hugged me. The nice nurse comforted me as she escorted mom and I upstairs via
elevator. As the doors opened, the nurse said, “This is where everyone wears
pajamas, so you’ll feel right at home.” Everyone was in blue scrubs. I smiled.
Once seated, nurse said she wanted to take my pressure again. “Think 120 over
80.” I did and my pressure was lower than that. Mom and the nurse were
surprised. “Good job! Now you’re all set,” the nurse said happily. Once the IV
was in my arm and I met the handsome anesthesiologist (his smile is
infectious), it was time to go in for surgery.
“Let me fix that for you,” another nurse said fixing my
gown. “We don’t want you exposed,” she said. As the nice nurse and mom headed
to the elevator, I looked back at them saying, “Oh we can’t have that, I can’t
be scaring people!” We all laughed as I went through the double doors. The operating room looked like a spaceship.
Lights everywhere and gadgets, and a narrow table that is intimidating to look
at. I got on as a woman and man assisted me. We introduced ourselves. All I
remember is mentioning how the room looked like a spaceship, and smelling the
man’s cologne. “Oh he smells good,” I said to myself when I fell asleep.
“Ms. Fulton, how are you feeling?” a nurse asked me. Everything
was a blur, and I couldn't see her clearly. I said in a low voice, “Hi, I’m
okay. Where is my mom?” She said they were sending her up to see me. She then
asked about my level of pain. It was around a 6, at which the nurse gave me
more medicine. “How are we doing professor?” Mom asks holding my hand. I didn’t
realize I fell back to sleep. “Hi Mommy, I’m really happy you’re here.” Several
nurses attended to me giving me water, apple juice, and a small apple cinnamon
muffin. It was so hard to eat, I felt so nauseous. Eventually, another nurse
assisted mom in dressing me, and wanted to show me how to walk using the
crutches. After using the restroom, the nurse showed me how to walk with the
crutches. That was challenging since I kept falling asleep every few seconds.
“Wake
up Dara, I need you to see where you’re walking,” the nurse said sternly. I felt
frustrated, because I couldn’t help it. Whatever drug I was on to decrease the
pain, it caused wooziness, sleepiness, and drowsiness. I don’t like those
feelings. Once finished, I was given a “hip” wheelchair, a wheelchair
specifically for hip surgeries. I thanked the nurse and mom for their help, and
patience. A car service was called. It was time to go home. My brother helped
me upstairs to our home. Luckily, it wasn’t as difficult as I thought. It just
hurt. I posted a picture mom took of me
in the hospital, and posted on Facebook and Twitter. I wanted my friends to
know I was okay, and thank them for their continuous support and love. Their
love and encouragement means more to me than they know.
I thank you all.
Sunday, December 22,
2013: the Aftermath
It has been a week since surgery. The first few days were
challenging, since I didn’t have my medicine. There was a mix up with my doctor’s
office and the pharmacy. I took aspirin. I didn’t get my medicine until Monday.
I kept my spirits up by collecting things around the house to recycle, and
search crafting ideas for those recycled items. Talking with friends on
Facebook and Twitter has been a big help. I appreciate the check-ins, messages,
and “get well” wishes. I had made some handmade Christmas cards for friends
before surgery. Their surprise made me smile. I received some nice cards as
well. I like doing nice things for people. This year is different than last,
because I am focusing on those who care about me, and ignoring the rest. I have
moved on which is something to smile about. After Tuesday, I became ill and
stressed out. My living conditions aren’t the best, which have taken a toll on
my family. Dealing with incompetence and ignorance doesn’t make it easier. I
haven’t rested well, which plagues my recovery process. I have my nostalgic
moments, and feel sad I am not into the holidays this time around. This year
hasn’t been a good year. I’m glad it’s ending. I pray for a happier new year
2014.
Today I am pushing through the pain and sadness by doing what
comforts me most, writing. I missed it. Tomorrow is my post-surgery doctor’s
appointment. I don’t want to go, but I will because I know it’s the right thing
to do. All I want now is rest. I hope to get that this week without any more
incidents, let us hope.
