Last month I had cataract surgery on my left eye. I returned to the hospital this month to have the other eye operated on. It was an entirely different experience. My husband and I got up at 4:30 AM to make it to the hospital waiting room at the very early time of 6:15 AM. “You’ll be his first patient”, I was told. We immediately noticed the woman who shuffled in with a walker and her husband. Her eyelids were cherry red. We also noticed the young mother and her baby, who looked to be about 2 months old. The baby was the eye patient. The mother and grandmother of the baby anxiously watched as the child was taken away for surgery. In fact, I watched every patient taken away for surgery while I waited in the holding room.
Marking the site
As he did last time, my surgeon again checked the dot pasted over my eye to be operated on, and wrote his initials on my forehead to mark the spot. I noticed that he politely greeted the staff, and that they responded to him with pleasantries. (It is very important for your doctor to get along with the staff.)
You felt pain?
When the cheerful anesthesiologist stood at the bottom of my stretcher, he shot off a series of rapid fire questions. I could tell he asked the same questions over and over – “any medical problems, do you smoke, do you drink?” Then he said, “I promise you will feel no pain and no awareness of what is happening.” “Oh, really?” I told him. “I felt pain last time.” He looked puzzled. “You did? There is no knife or needle.” I told him I don’t know what caused the pain but I did feel pain at the end and asked the doctor for pain relievers, which he would not give to me. Then the anesthesiologist looked uncomfortable and reminded me I would not have to have cataract surgery again as both eyes would have been operated on.
The wait
The patient with the cherry red eyelids went off to the operating room before I did, and I suspect her surgery was more involved than mine; she had the same surgeon I did. When the nurse anesthetist and operating room nurse came to get me, the nurse anesthetist immediately gave me a full 3 cc syringe of Versed (sedation) as she was wheeling my stretcher down the hall to the operating room. That seemed to be the height of efficiency. But then we waited and waited in the operating room for my surgeon to finish up with the cherry red eyelids lady. I floated in a pleasant Versed-induced haze, dimly aware of the voices of the operating room nurse and nurse anesthetist. At one point, one of them said, “She’s asleep.” “No, I am not, I can hear everything you are saying.” It got quiet then.
Hiccoughs
While still waiting for the surgeon, I developed the hiccoughs. “My surgeon is not going to like this”, I told them. I imagined him trying to operate on my eye while I was hiccoughing. Ever the helpful patient, I remembered that Thorazine can be given for hiccoughs and asked the nurse anesthetist if she had any. “No, we don’t have anything like that here.” The next thing I knew, I woke up. My wrists were tied to the stretcher (me, in wrist restraints!) The surgeon said, “I’m taking the clamps and mask off. We’re done.” Wow! I got to sleep through the surgery.
Fentanyl: my new best friend
The nurse anesthetist told me she gave me Fentanyl, a fast acting pain reliever. Fentanyl took away awareness of surgery. I saw the first surgery taking place; I did not need to see the second one too. My curiosity was satisfied. My husband helped me walk to the car, as Fentanyl made it hard for me to walk a straight line. Fentanyl also made me see double cars on the highway headed home. Fentanyl allowed me to take a nap when I got home. Fentanyl is now my new best friend.
