The Insider’s Guide to Surgery
Since 2016, I’ve had about 7 different surgeries along my quest for wellness, ranging from 3 hour lung procedures to an 18 hour, whopper of an operation replacing my femur. I’ve had surgery in the midst of receiving treatment and then again later during recurrences.
Here’s what I can share from my own experiences:
PREP
It’s only natural that operation day is going to hang over you. You’ll feel anxious about not only the procedure, but what recovery and life will be like afterwards. Managing these uncomfortable emotions is as much a part of the process as the physical operation itself.
On the days leading up to my first surgery, the big one, I felt so much pressure to take advantage of my last moments being fully mobile that it actually made things worse. I couldn’t come up with any ideas worthy of the occasion and then got frustrated, like I was letting myself down. The next time around, I changed my approach and just tried to relax with loved ones. That’s seemed to work better for me.
Even grappling with the basic idea that once I awoke from surgery, my leg would no longer be functional, just like that, was really weird and unsettling… I’d never even broken a bone beforehand. Kori’s constant reminders to take things one day at a time helped me regain focus.
Be prepared with any questions when meeting the surgeon beforehand and always act as an advocate for yourself. At some point before the operation, you’ll run through pre-surgery tests to make sure your body is fit and able. Your surgeon will scare the crap out of you with a packet full of everything that might go wrong. Remember to breathe and don’t get too sucked too far into those rabbit holes. It’s standard procedure. You’ve chosen this procedure because it’s the best move for your health. Keep that in mind when feeling nervous.
SURGERY DAY
You may have had a rough night of sleep, that’s totally fine. You’ll shower with a strong anti-bacterial soap in the morning and are told not to eat or drink that day. Remember to pack a bag with clothes and necessities: sleep mask, surge protector, chargers, laptop, kindle, noise-canceling headphones and your favorite snacks.
You’ll show up and go through a series of waiting rooms, maybe fill out more forms. Mood might feel heavy, sure. Eventually someone will direct you to a bed in another room where you’ll change into a gown. Then come the waves of faces: nurses, the anesthesiologist and his assistant, the surgeon and his assistant, maybe someone asking if you’d like to say a prayer together. You’ll get a few minutes to see loves ones before the surgery. I use my phone for background music to break the tension.
Then come the drugs. Everything starts to fall into its right place from here, and suddenly, it’s a different game entirely. You’ll feel relaxed and ready to drift off, if people would just leave you alone already. Like magic, this blissful state will arrive just in time to protect you.
Eventually, nurses transport you to the operating room and place you on a table. The temperature is chilly but you’ll receive a pre-heated warm blanket. You’ll feel a little disoriented but calm; able to make out only a few blurry faces. One of the masks places something over your mouth and asks you take a few breaths. Again you’re so relaxed at this point that it almost feels like you’re a spectator rather than the one experiencing… You’ll doze off now— its almost like getting to time-travel until the operation’s finished— while the rest of your loved ones are worried sick in the waiting room.
POST-SURGERY
You’ll awake groggy but riding a terrific high over the progress you’ve made now that the procedure’s behind you. Loved ones will come over to join you. The morphine’s likely kicked in (watch out for reckless, unfiltered texting!) and doctors will work with you on the pain medicine schedule. My advice: stay hydrated and ask for stool softener as soon as possible because pain meds make you constipated.
Nurses and the surgeon will be popping in at all hours to run routine tests. As the nurses shifts change, they may not always remember all the details of your situation perfectly, and because they’re only human they may make the occasional mistake. This is where acting as your own advocate becomes so important. If something feels off, speak up. If they’re not bringing what they usually bring, speak up. Or try to have someone else in the room who’s filled in and has your back.
The medical staff will want you on your feet sooner than later and will introduce physical therapy when possible. You may need a blood transfusion, I’ve had plenty. It’s a pretty common procedure. At some point, they’ll also need to remove the catheter (tube they insert while you’re under to help your bladder drain urine) and drain (tube that removes fluid from the wound).
Friends and family will ask to visit. Seeing friendly faces can give you a nice boost but also feel exhausting at times. Don’t be afraid to stand your ground if you need to rest.
Food-wise, Kori helped me by running out to pick up healthy local options. The hospital menu wasn’t necessarily the healthiest and because I was avoiding added sugar, meats and high glycemic carbs, I made constant substitutions to stick with my diet.
At some point before you’re discharged, take a moment to think through transportation— everything from how you’ll get down to the main floor, to getting inside and out of the car and safely to your home— as well as how handicap-friendly your home is.
One last point: remember to go easy on yourself. After a major surgery, you may not be the same person you were beforehand. Recovery can take time and some changes last forever. I developed osteoarthritis after my hip surgery. It’s been painful and limiting, really frustrating to get used to… but the way I see it, accepting change is all part of a cancer fighter’s job description. I do the best I can to manage flareups, while staying grateful to at least be as healthy as I am, and taking it one day at a time. There’s still room for plenty of joy in life.
Good luck!