So when you watch medical dramas on TV the doctors are always discussing the sordid details of their love life or their fantastic weekend in Vale while removing someone’s spleen, right? Well, it’s pretty much like that in real life. You find that out if you ever have a C-section with a spinal instead of general anesthesia.
I got to listen in on a very deep theological discussion between my doctor, who is Hindu, and the assisting surgeon and medical student, both Catholic Notre Dame grads, while they were delivering Wade. Then they got on the subject of Obama speaking at Notre Dame, and finally they talked about what a nice city South Bend is. I almost jumped in and said, “Hey, I went to college near South Bend too,” but wasn’t sure if it’s proper etiquette to shout over the paper curtain to your doctor while he’s stitching your uterus back together.
If you’ve ever had a C-section you also know that before they close you up they check your uterus and all the surrounding tissue and organs to make sure nothing was punctured or damaged during the procedure. I over heard this as well:
“O.K. I see one ovary. Where is the other? Do you see it?”
“Uh…no. Hmmm. That’s strange.”
“Let’s see…No, it’s not there. I’m pretty sure it’s not there.” (I heard just a hint of panic in Dr. R’s voice at that point.) He leaned around the curtain. “CeeGee? I only see one ovary?”
“What? What do you mean there’s only one? They were both there yesterday!”
Alright, I didn’t say that, but I did think about it for half a second. I reminded Dr. R. that my eggs were all in one basket because I had an ovary removed years ago when it had a cyst on it.
I could see the the look of relief wash over his face, even with his mask on.
“Yes! Oh, yes! I remember you telling me that now.”
Stapling the incision was the last step before my surgery was finished. They asked the medical student to do that.
“How do you use this?”
“No one ever showed you how to use a stapler before?” I detected exasperation in the assisting surgeon’s voice.
“No,” the med student said sheepishly.
Not what I wanted to hear as I lay there imagining literally coming apart at the seams because the kid did it wrong.
“Just like this.” I heard a click as the assisting surgeon demonstrated. “Now you.” I heard another click. “No. No. Like this.” Another click.
There were several more clicks. More than seemed necessary to cover the few inches of my incision.
When the nurse took the staples out the day I left the hospital she remarked that the staples didn’t seem quite right.
Oh, well.
I’m still in one piece.
Save the missing ovary.
now I would have shouted “Dont give the newbie the stapler!” My luck, he would have stapled my belly button to my ribs
Now, I’m thinking a general would have been better than the local…just because “ingnorance is bliss”…I’d rather not know the student didn’t know what he is doing.
You poor thing 🙂 I’m so sorry, but I had to laugh. I am so glad I didn’t overhear anything like that for either of my C-sections!
wow… sometimes it’s truly a blessing to be deaf! : ) I’m very glad you’re in one piece too!!
That’s just a little scary!
oh dear! i had to read this one to kevin! i’m so glad you are ok! 🙂
I, your mother, Dave, and Pastor Stan could have told him that! Don’t they check one’s records before
doing a procedure? I check my notes before speaking.
Well, in all fairness he didn’t have my records since my C-section was unscheduled. My file was still at his office, and since it was Sunday, there was no one there to fax anything to him. It’s a good argument for an electronic medical database that can be accessed by your doctor any where, any time. And he has so many patients it’s no wonder he didn’t remember.
That’s just wrong. Just, wrong. The stuff of nightmares. I will now go and lie awake in bed.