Surgical Procedure or How Sabrina Got Her Food Back

Four days ago I went to a weird little hospital in downtown Abu Dhabi to have laparoscopic cholecystectomy (my gallbladder scooped out through small incisions).  I really had no idea what to expect.  I didn't know if I'd be in a dormitory style room or a private room.  If I would be able to keep my personal belongings with me or even if Dan would be able to see me at all or if I would definitely have to stay the night.  Well, now that it's all done with (except for a follow up visit this week) here's how it went down.

My pre-op instructions were on half a sheet of paper that the nurse took when I arrived at the hospital.  They were pretty standard and also pretty vague:

• Maintain good hygiene by bathing the day of the surgery before coming to hospital (I didn't do this, I bathed the night before because no way was I going to have wet hair all day long.  Take that, The Man)
• Maintain good hygiene by using toothbrush and toothpaste on the day or surgery
• No food or liquids on the day of surgery
• Stop use of alcohol or tobacco as soon as possible before the surgery (I interpreted that to mean 48 hours)
• Prep the area using trimmers if necessary

So, prepped and wearing my pajamas (certainly inappropriate and disrespectful of the local culture), Dan and I arrived at 6:45am, were escorted to a private room on another floor of the hospital (the hospital building is two interconnected 20 story buildings). and left there for 4 hours.  There was a telephone, bed, couch, wardrobe, and TV that got 1.5 English channels.  During that time I was given a smock and trousers, and repeatedly asked if I had removed everything else. 

YES I TOOK OFF MY PANTIES!!

Although I kept saying yes, I had removed everything, boy was I wrong.  I was wearing nail polish!!!1!

And it looked hella cool too

This was such an unprecedented event that it was discussed at length by the OR nurses.  I don't know the essence of the conversation, because the only words in English were "nail polish", but eventually something was decided (probably that no one really cared) and on I walked into the operating room.  That's right, I walked, carrying my IV bag of fluids, into the room where I was to be cut open.  The hospital is so small, it's impractical to move patients on gurneys everywhere.  The anesthesiologist was a very genial man who asked me all kinds of questions, probably to distract me from the fact I was about to be cut open for the first time.  He asked the usual questions, where are you from, how many children, do you drink a lot, doesn't this anesthesia feel better than a drink?  He also asked me what kind of livelihoods they have in Arizona.

"Gold mining and cattle ranching, good sir."

I have no idea how they managed to get me back to my room afterwards, but I did have to shift my own body from one bed to another, reminding me how much pain I was in (a lot, a lot of pain).  Luckily, the rest of the day was just me dozing, only waking up when someone came in to remove my IV bag and bring my liquid dinner of mango squash (super-thick juice).  I saw the doctor at about 9pm, cementing my opinion that he works all the time.  He might live on site for all I know.  I asked for stronger pain medicine than I was getting, and I did get something better, but just that one time.  And there's the biggest difference between surgery here and surgery in the US.  Here, what I got was fancy ibuprofen (in the US it's called Rimadyl and is marketed for arthritic dogs and cats), in the US, I would have gotten something that actually helps with the pain, like vicodin.  Next time I need my guts scooped out, I'm asking for an American doctor or going to Dubai and the American hospital, I don't care if that makes me seem racist.  I do not want to be in pain because of the cultural hang-ups of my doctor.

Just give me the good stuff

Dan stayed most of the first day, leaving only when he knew I'd come out of surgery OK.  There wasn't any reason for him to stay and watch me sleep all day.  He got enough of that the next day, when he woke up and came straight to the hospital to sit and play poker on his phone while I slept through Dora the Explorer for four hours, because the only all English channel was Nick Jr.  That's a man who loves me.

There!  Candy Mountain is right there!  Geez, Dora, turn the hell around!

Anyway, other than the lack of actual pain relief, the experience was fine.  If I had gone to another hospital here in Abu Dhabi, I would have gotten the same service, only dressed up in fancier equipment.  I'm recovering well enough: sleeping a lot and eating small meals.  I can even lay on my side already.  I don't have stitches because my incisions are glued shut, and I only have three instead of the usual four (Dr. Ravi must have been showing off.  I hope he won that round of Remove That Organ).  They even brought me my stones afterwards, even though I didn't ask for them.  They are super gross, so of course I'm legally obligated to post a photo: 

Grosser images available upon request

On Thursday I'll going in for my check-up, and I can resume all regular activities a week after that. 

Well folks, that was quite a slog though my surgical experience.  I'll try to bring on something shorter and more light-hearted for my next post.  I'm off to take some doggie motrin and eat a small sandwich.

Maybe I'll hide the pill *in* the sandwich to trick myself into eating it