The Worst Day of My Life

And so I arrived at a hospital in the San Antonio Medical Center, where I was settled in a room in the intensive care unit sometime around 6am.  Surgery was scheduled at some as yet unspecified time later that day.  Finally, I was wheeled down to the ER at around 1:30. 

Allegedly, according to witnesses, I was brought back to ICU a bit over 6 hours later.  Having still been unconscious at the time, I couldn't say for certain.  Nor can I say with any certainty when I did awaken, but I can testify that it is an experience I never want to go through again. 

It seems I don't take well to being restrained.  Well, I awakened with a ventilator tube down my throat and both wrists strapped to the bed rails.  Unable to speak, control my breathing, move my arms, or even gesture meaningfully, I very nearly went into complete panic.  I was able to keep myself under control through sheer willpower, and the memory of my surgeon's promise that the ventilator tube would be removed "shortly after I was aware enough to know it was there." 

Well, he lied.  When I realized there was a nurse at my bed, I attempted to point at the tube and tried to gesture that I'd like it removed.  The nurse got the point, but put me off and left the room again.  I can't say exactly how long I lay there trying not to fight the ventilator or my restraints, but it had to be something over an hour.  That is not what I call "shortly."

But finally they deigned to let me breathe on my own.  The actual removal of the breathing tube was unpleasant but quick.  The steps leading up to it were another sort of hell, involving the partial removal of another device, which was left dangling loosely in the throat, at just the right spot to trigger my gag reflex.  That seemed to go on forever, but was probably no more than a few minutes before they finally removed it and the breathing tube. 

At last, my throat was clear.  And dry, as dry as I can recall ever being.  I begged the nurse for water, for ice chips, for something that would give me some relief, but was ignored.  I remained in yet another form of agony until my wife got some gauze and soaked it in water for me to suck on. 

From what I understand, my chances of surviving my sojourn on the operating table had been a whopping 70%.