Yesterday I had a liver biopsy.
Billed as a minor surgical procedure, it still required IV sedation, so to me, it seemed a smidge more than minor.
The drugs they gave me were, according to the nurse, “to make you do what we want, but be half-asleep… and they’re slightly amnesic, so you won’t remember much.”
The nurses were great, my IV was in with not much trouble (first time I’ve ever not had a massive bruise on my hand) and they were marking me with a pen when the doctor came in.
Fortunately the drugs weren’t in me yet, because proclaiming that Doogie Howser wasn’t doing my surgery didn’t seem like the best plan.
Instead, I smiled, said, “You look younger than me. You are SO not allowed to do my surgery.”
Fortunately they all laughed and he assured me that one, he was older than me (maybe, but just barely), and two, he would be assisting the other doctor, who, I would be happy to know, was a grandfather.
Here’s the thing. You’re getting a delicate procedure done, one that requires many years of experience because most of it is done by eye from outside of the body. I’m sorry, but I want the oldest person on staff who’s been doing this since before I was born, not the kid who has perfect skin (unbelievable, he said it was genes), blushed when I flirted with him and said he used to watch Doogie Howser too. Uhuh, no way.
The doctor who came in had the perfect balance of wrinkles and white hair and a lovely German accent. The nurses told him that I was pleased he was old enough to do my surgery and as he looked at me over his spectacles, I grinned and said, “Perfect blend of age and beauty.”
He chuckled and said I was cheeky. Then he asked if my dad was old enough to ever do my surgery and I said, “of course, but also, he gets automatic dad points.”
By this point they were starting to drug me, so they pulled aside the gown, draped the area and started the ultrasound to see my liver.
I vaguely remember this part, but basically they numbed my side with Novocaine and used a spring-loaded pressured giant needle to push into my side and take the biopsies. They took four.
The weird thing was I distinctly remember the sound of the pressure releasing and the pain of the needle plunging in. Mainly, I think, because they had to keep me awake to hold my breath every time they put the needle in.
Why, you ask? Well apparently it’s because your liver moves every time you breathe, due to its proximity to your lungs. And that’s a pain, because now every time I breathe it hurts. Lovely, all around.
I was quite lucid when they wheeled me to recovery and aside from the pain when I breathed, was ready to go home. Unfortunately they want to make sure you clot, so they made me lay on the offended side for an hour, then stay there for three more.
My parents and the Porkchop came back to sit with me and whilst we waited I taught my dad how to use his laptop, lol.
They gave me lunch and wanted me to drink liquids, but then neglected to tell me that if I had to pee, I’d need to do it in a bedpan until the allotted time lying down was over. Yeah, I’ll hold it, thanks.
We used to live in the area when my dad was in the military and he and my mom desperately wanted to visit a turkey farm they remembered (for pot pies) and an ice cream stand. Since it was only 30 minutes from the hospital (and we were about two hours from home), I said why not and we ended up spending most of the afternoon having lunch at a diner on the side of the road (they hadn’t eaten), buying pot pies at a turkey farm and going into sugar comas at a huge ice cream stand (gah).
Heading for home, the Porkchop agreed to drive (my dad had been driving and the man is a BAD driver.. he doesn’t pay attention, he hits all the potholes and he slams on brakes.. not good for a person whose side hurts and needs to take shallow breaths to control the pain) and we made it home in an hour and a half.
I went to bed almost immediately and this morning I feel much better. Although my side is still painful, I’m more aware of how to breathe to minimize the discomfort. I can’t twist around, I move quite slowly and can’t lift anything or do anything for the next three days.
The rest of them are still asleep, so I’m padding about the house by myself, trying to decide if it’s been 24 hours since the procedure so I can shower.
It hasn’t, but I’m thinking two hours doesn’t make much difference, lol.
