When you write the things I write on my blog and when you say the things you say that I say on TikTok, it stands to reason that you will have enemies and other forms of haters. Last month, I discussed the fact that surgery was on the horizon due to my seizures. Well, today was that day (to the left is me before the surgery), and I hate to inform the haters (actually, I love it!) that the surgery was a complete success with absolutely no complications.
There were a lot of formalities that had to take place before I went into the operating room, of which the hospital where I went for outpatient surgery. I had to have a phone interview with the surgeon’s assistant and then another spot check with the surgeon’s nurse. The only thing that I was not fond of is that I had to waive my DNR and most of my MOLST until I left the hospital. If you’re unfamiliar with those acronyms, read this.
There was a brief hiccup when I was told that they might have to intubate me because of the type of anesthesia that was going to be used. One directive in my MOLST is that I am expressly not to be intubated. I very calmly and politely said at that point that if that’s going to be the case, then let’s shut this down here and now. When they saw how serious I was, the anesthesiologist was able to find another solution.
And yes, I am so firm in my convictions that I would have absolutely and politely had them take the IV out and I would have walked, despite the fact that at this point, the VNS is not a want, but a need. I am grateful for having the type of insurance that covered the entire outpatient procedure except for a $300 co-pay. Getting out of there with a $300 bill is more than reasonable, so I wouldn’t even dare try to Jew it down.
The one thing that I was able to keep was my directive within the paperwork that declines any form of blood transfusion. Obviously, by virtue of the fact that I am typing this, a transfusion was not needed. If it had been, the surgeon would have halted the procedure and let things happen naturally. I had to sign a lot of paperwork, including waivers of liability, ensuring that if I died due to a lack of a transfusion, my wife would not have been able to sue.
Everyone was professional and respectful of my refusal of blood products, though a couple of them asked me to walk them through why I refuse such procedures. It threw people off, because people my age rarely have DNR and MOLST orders. Well, I wasn’t seeking to make history when I got those documents signed, but here we are.
What happened today was that a VNS device was placed next to my heart, with a wire of sorts running from that device, through my neck and into my brain. This will stop a seizure when I or someone else places a magnet on my chest. To the left, you the magnets that I or someone else would need to use in the event of a seizure.
The only complaint that I have is that I was told to be there by 11:00, but the surgery did not begin until 2:00 for one reason or another. I am aware that Albany Medical Center is a level one trauma hospital, so I am not angry about it as such cases clearly take precedent over non-urgent procedures as mine.
To be honest, I didn’t want to go to AMC because my preferred network is the St. Peter’s Hospital and its affiliated providers. I had no choice, however. Despite the fact that I wanted to be at SPH as it is a Catholic hospital and is the best hospital/medical care network in the entire Albany area, I found AMC and its personnel to be professional, kind and honest.
I made sure to be extra nice to all the medical personnel, especially since they were subjected to horrible verbal threats and abuse at the hands of a patient who, big surprise, is black. Everything out of her mouth, in the room next to mine, was lawsuit this, lawsuit that, “let me the fuck out of here,” and so forth. What else can you expect from a black person?
I felt bad for them, so I made sure to try to make up for that hideous person’s abuse with kindness. Not for nothing, but she’s the type of fat black woman who has to waddle instead of walk. Kind of like how my former Mormon bishop’s wife gets around. She too has to waddle. But I digress.
Especially when someone else abuses them in any way, I always treat medical personnel with kindness even if they’re telling me things that I don’t want to hear. They put up with abuse from patients and their families all day long, and I refuse to add my name to that list. Today, I feel that I strongly advocated for myself, eventually acquiescing to the tube situation, not wanting to make their day less pleasant on my account.
My wife told me they wheeled me back into my room at around 4:30 (to the left is me after surgery, under the influence of anesthesia), and I was cleared to leave thirty minutes later. Okay, so I have two complaints, and this one’s petty: I was not allowed to walk out of the hospital of my own accord. I had to leave the building in a wheelchair as if I’m some sort of invalid or something. I do recognize, however, that it’s a liability issue.
If they had let me walk out and something happened, that would have caused them problems, so I kept my anger and humiliation to myself. Yes, I was still dizzy and maybe a little disoriented, but I could have handled walking out on my own, albeit with my wife by my side just in case.
I couldn’t be upset with anyone though. They have procedures and protocols and I get that. After all, the guy wheeling me out was merely doing his job. Even though I was humiliated beyond words (I am quite independent), I thanked him and climbed into my car. Yes, obviously my wife drove us away and on to a Chinese buffet in Colonie, a suburb of Albany.
This article is being written around five hours after leaving the hospital. As I sit on my living room couch, I am no longer dizzy and I feel normal except for soreness around the surgical site on my neck and in my chest.
Tired? Yes, and I will sleep well tonight as they hooked me up with some wicked awesome pain medication in the form of Oxycontin, the type of prescription that requires you to be 21 and in possession of a valid photo ID.
I can feel the device in there, and I probably will until my body gets used to it. It won’t actually be activated until a follow-up appointment with my neurologist in two weeks.
One bad thing about this is that I cannot take a shower until Friday. That does not please me as I take at least three showers a day. My water bill reflects that, so maybe I’ll save a few dollars, so there’s that.
Okay, so there are two bad things.
I can have no heavy physical activity. That means that when I do volunteer work at my parish on Thursday, I can’t walk there even though it’s right around the corner from my home. I have to have my wife drive me. And I can only do the volunteer work because it only involves sitting at a desk doing data entry for the parish’s food pantry.
But that’s not all, folks! I can’t have sex for two whole weeks. Given that my wife and I have a healthy sex life, this will be a problem. I jokingly asked the doctor if I can watch porn when in reality, as a Catholic, I don’t look at that filth. He said no, because that would get my heart rate up. And while we’re on the topic, I cannot masturbate as that too would increase my heart rate. But I have neither need nor desire to do something like that. But I digress.
I can’t even watch Jenna Ortega’s character make out with another female character because Ortega naturally increases my heart rate just by experience. So it’s quite possible that if I watch that movie clip, Ortega could in theory kill me. I kid, I kid. Please don’t sic your lawyer on me, Ortega! And no, I did not watch that clip just now. I merely linked to it. Apparently, watching it might put me in the ED and I really don’t want to explain that to my wife or the ED personnel.
Can you imagine?
“So what brings you in today, Mr. Crook?”
“Well, doc, you see, it’s like this: Jenna Ortega brought me here!”
All kidding aside and all in all, today was a pleasant experience. I really don’t remember much once I left my room for the actual surgery. I do remember being wheeled out of my room to the OR. I don’t recall making it there. I do recall waking up in my room though. Everything else is redacted like a sensitive government document.
No, Albany Medical Center was not my ideal choice. It never has been and it never will be. That being said, everyone from the intake personnel to the nurses, doctors and surgeons (the main surgeon is considered to be the best neurosurgeon in the region) to the guy who wheeled me out were top-notch and made the whole thing a better experience than I thought it would be.
Despite that, however, I will continue to avoid AMC only, and I mean only, because as a Catholic, I prefer to be treated at a Catholic hospital. Plus the hospital and its network have been taking care of me ever since we moved to Albany in 2013.
I really didn’t want to do what had to be done today, but it was a medical necessity, which is likely why my insurance provider covered pretty much everything, which is likely because it was a common, outpatient procedure. I honestly don’t know what kind of bill I’d be facing if I’d had to go inpatient. But that is now a moot point.
If you need to have neurosurgery done, and if St. Peter’s can’t provide the service as it apparently can’t, then AMC is the way to go. And now, it’s time to hippity-hop to bed. I’d rather stay up instead. But when the meds say must, there’s nothing but just hippity-hop to bed.