Day: December 24, 2006

Dear Santa,

Dear Santa,

I know I’m supposed to have given up on my believe in you 20 or more years ago but, some years you just need to hang onto the belief to get you to the next one.

This has been one of those years and it wants to continue that way until the bitter end. I thought maybe we had gotten to the end of the bad of 2006 until Friday, then all that had to happen.

Now, Santa, I don’t want a lot of material things. I don’t need them, don’t have a home to put them in, anyway, and well, the material things just don’t mean that much to me anymore. I do have things I want, though:

I want a place to live, just Tony and me. A small apartment, one bedroom, would be more than enough for the two of us.

I want my family, all my family, to be happy and healthy and joyful and not hateful to one another. I want the part that needs to be healed, healed, so that life can move on. Life is too damn short for some of the things that have been happening.

Please take care of my nieces and nephews, blood related, marriage related, and those just related by love. Make them grow up to be the wonderful human beings that I see they have in them.

A year of good health for me would be wonderful. I’d really like a good report back from Friday’s surgery as well. A nice big report showing me that the hyperplasia is gone and that I’m done with these surgeries.

My blood sugar staying under 110 would be nice, as well. Since, I have been diagnosed as diabetic since Thursday, I know that I need to keep a tight control on them.

A wish for Tony to find a wonderful job that pays well enough for the two of us to have a home of our own. Yes, a material item but, really a needed one.

Tony to be well and never sick, always the wonderful man that he is, and a nice dose of happiness for him would be in order, as well.

Good health to my Granny, whose age seems to be catching up with her. I can’t imagine a world without her whirlwinding around it so, I wish her to be well.

And, last of all, I wish for love. An overaboundance of love. If there is nothing else in the world for me, love will do.

Thanks Santa,

Suzy

And then it was black.

I wasn’t joking when I said they almost killed me yesterday. The surgery went wonderfully. It was quick, easy, in and out, back to recovery, tell the husband she’s okay, and done.

Afterwards wasn’t so easy. Now, I woke up in bad pain, again (which I was expecting but, it still sucks to wake up like that.) They gave me a shot of Toradol, the drug that has never killed a drop of pain in me, then after a bit, when I was still whining about the pain, they gave me two percocets.

That tells you how awake I was. I was able to swallow pills and talk with no problem. A short while later I felt like I was going to throw up, and I told the nurse that. She grabbed Phenergan attached it to the IV in my left arm, opened the line and started to push the Phenergan. I immediately started to shake my arms, jumping into the air, then getting heavy. I gasped out “I can’t breathe” with the last air I had, then I couldn’t speak, move or breathe anymore. I pitched forward (I was propped up in the bed) and everything started to go black.

The last thing that went to my head was “I’ll never see Tony again.” Then everything was completely black.

The next thing I remember is waking up with an ambu bag on my face and being unable to move even though I really wanted to. After some time, I became able to move a bit and I did, asking what was going on.

I’m not sure if it was a doctor, nurse, resident, whatever who first told me what had happened. It seems that during the surgery, due to my arm’s position, the IV in my left arm clogged as they were pushing the paralytic drug in.

So, the inserted and IV in my right arm and used that one for the surgery, instead. But, they never flushed or removed the left one. When the nurse opened the line to give me the Phenergan the paralytic drug that was sitting there rushed into me.

And, of course, paralyzed me, just as it is supposed to do. The arms jumping then unable to move, the inability to breathe or hold myself up are all normal reactions to rocuronium. Unfortunately, they weren’t ready with a tube and all that jazz, like they are in the OR.

I was lucky, it happened in the recovery room, someone picked it up right away and put the reversal meds going, and they bagged me immediately. Had I been sent back to my floor, and the nurse had pushed it through me up there, I wouldn’t be here typing this.

For 30 minutes though, I was not breathing on my own. They were breathing for me with the bag, and doing everything they could to fix the mistake.

After I was back with it and able to speak and move on my own, the doctor and nurses involved told me exactly what happened. My oxygen saturation rate dropped from 100 to the low 60s fast. By the time the nurse had turned back to me (she thought I was just nervous still and able to breathe, as did the others around me) I was blue and tipped forward.

The doctor apologized over and over again. Now, several people I know have already told me to sue. I don’t see the point in that. It was a mistake. A big one, that almost cost me my life, but, I guarentee that no one who was involved in this will ever make that mistake again.

I was at a teaching hospital and the doctor was already writing it up as a teaching case before I left. The residents who were all over will never do anything like this. The nurses won’t be so quick to dismiss someone saying “I can’t breathe.” And, they will either flush or pull a line when a drug doesn’t go like it should. They will never leave it again and risk someone’s life.

As for me? I’m extremely freaked out. I keep reliving the feeling of being unable to breathe or move as I fell forward and knowing I was dead, that I would never see my husband again. My chest still feels heavy like I’m about to lose the ability to breathe again.

I know it’s in my head but, I can’t get beyond it, yet. I’m still scared and freaked out and wondering why this all happened. Right now, I’m just grateful to have more time with my husband, my niece and nephews, my parents, family, friends. I thought it was all gone and I got a second chance.

Now, I just need to take advantage of it.

Merry Christmas Eve.