The Double-Edged Sword: When Surgery Success Doesn't Guarantee Recovery Bliss
People tend to view surgery as the ultimate fix. An ailment, a problem, a source of pain – all meticulously addressed by skilled hands and innovative techniques. And sometimes, that’s exactly what happens. The surgery is a resounding success; the surgeon emerges with a celebratory nod, and medical scans reveal a textbook outcome. Yet, the journey is far from over. For some, a seemingly picture-perfect surgical procedure is followed by a recovery that plunges off the proverbial cliff.
It’s a cruel irony: the very thing that was supposed to heal, to liberate, can become the starting point of a new, unexpected journey. This isn't about surgical errors or malpractice; although that can be a factor for some- this is about the often-unpredictable complexities of the human body and the sometimes-fraught pathway to healing.
It's a scenario that unfolds all too frequently. The causes are multifaceted and often intertwined:
Individual Variability: Everyone's body responds differently to surgery. Genetics, age, overall health, pre-existing conditions, and even mental well-being can significantly impact recovery. What works wonderfully for one person might trigger a cascade of complications for another.
The Psychological Toll: Surgery, even when successful, is a traumatic event for the body and mind. The anxiety, discomfort, and limitations of recovery can take a significant psychological toll, contributing to depression, frustration, and a sense of helplessness.
Infection and Complications: While surgical techniques have advanced, the risk of infection persists. Even minor infections can derail recovery, leading to prolonged discomfort and the need for further interventions. Other complications, like blood clots, nerve damage, and persistent pain, can also significantly impact the recovery process.
Lifestyle Factors: Adherence to post-operative instructions, engaging in prescribed physical therapy, and maintaining a healthy lifestyle are all crucial to a successful recovery. Neglecting these elements can drastically increase the risk of setbacks.
The "Perfect Storm": Sometimes, it's simply a combination of these factors that creates a "perfect storm," where good surgery is followed by a difficult, or even failed, recovery.
The reality is that even the most successful surgery doesn't guarantee a smooth and effortless recovery. By acknowledging the complexities and nuances of the healing process, we can move towards a more holistic and patient-centred approach. This approach focuses on anticipating challenges, addressing individual needs, and providing the support required to navigate the potentially turbulent waters of post-operative recovery. Only then can we ensure that even when surgery goes right, the recovery doesn't go off the side of a cliff.
September 9th, 2024 will stay with me forever. This was the day I was scheduled for a total thyroidectomy, a surgery I had both anticipated and dreaded. The morning arrived with a mix of nervous energy and quiet determination. The check-in process was a blur of forms and procedures: weight and height measurements, the obligatory wristband, and a brief but necessary rundown of what to expect. My anxiety, a familiar companion linked to my PTSD, was surging. The hospital staff, thankfully, recognized this and offered medication. I took said chill pills and settled in for the long wait until ‘my turn’.
I was ushered to a pre-op waiting area, where I donned the less-than-glamorous surgical gown and knee-high compression socks. It was a rather surreal feeling, sitting there, stripped of my everyday clothes and identity, replaced by the sexy uniform of a patient. The room was a mix of hushed conversations on mobile phones and nervous glances. A very small group of us sat, pretending to read a book or watch the television on the wall. I watched as other individuals, similarly dressed in fashionable hospital outfits, were called away for their respective procedures. The waiting, seemingly endless, stretched on. Each person who was anxiously ushered away was a reminder: soon, my turn would come.
With each tick of the clock, each shift of my body in the uncomfortable chair, I was aware of the myriad of thoughts swirling through my mind: fears, hopes, and a strange sense of calm acceptance. The sterile environment certainly did nothing to ease the anxiety; it seemed to amplify the intensity of the entire experience. I tried to distract myself, focusing on the people around me, the distant hum of hospital activity, and the patterns on the floor.
Finally, after many hours, the moment arrived. A nurse approached, a soft smile on her face, and announced the words I had been waiting for: "They're calling for you." A mixture of relief and trepidation washed over me. The wait was over. The next chapter of this journey was about to begin.
The day of a major surgery is a whirlwind of emotions, a mix of apprehension and a desperate hope for a positive outcome. For me, the actual surgery procedure began not on the operating table, but in a small, unassuming cubicle tucked away in the theatre area. It was here, amidst the sterile surroundings, that I encountered two incredibly kind women who helped me navigate the rising tide of panic.
The anesthesiologist and a nurse welcomed me with gentle smiles, their voices a soothing balm against the inner turmoil. They walked me through the procedure, detailing what to expect and allowing me to ask questions. As the reality of the impending surgery settled in, my anxieties came bubbling back to the surface along with many tears as I lost composure. I must have asked the anaesthesiologist countless times, "Will I wake up during surgery?" and "How can you be sure I won't wake up before they're finished?" Each time, she responded with patience and reassurance, carefully explaining the methods she would employ. While my fears didn't magically vanish, her confident and gentle explanations did offer a small measure of comfort. A little calmer, but definitely still panicking internally and I suspect externally.
Shortly after, the surgeon and another doctor joined us, introducing themselves with a sense of calm professionalism. It was reassuring to put faces to the names, to see the people who would be responsible for my care. The transition was swift after this. Orderlies arrived, and the next thing I knew, I was being wheeled into a room adjacent to the operating theatre itself.
Here, two more nurses greeted me, beginning the process of inserting lines and preparing me further for the surgery. I had made numerous jokes about my difficult veins previously, I was so relieved, and extremely grateful when I saw an ultrasound machine waiting for me. My veins are notoriously difficult to access, normally resulting in multiple attempts, so knowing that this was available made it such a relief. The process was undoubtedly faster, less painful, and generally a far better experience than my usual "multi-stick fails". It was a small thing, but it truly made a difference in my overall experience, a testament to the thoughtfulness and preparation of the medical team.
And then, the moment arrived. The brief reprieve was over, and it was time to face the reality of the impending surgery. Being wheeled into the operating theatre was something that had been lurking in my dreams, a scenario I had rehearsed countless times in my mind.
The journey up to the surgery had been punctuated by moments of anxiety and panic, but also by moments of genuine human connection and kindness. The medical team, through their patience, their reassurance, and their proactive care provided more than just medical expertise they offered a much-needed sense of calm during the storm. It was small moments, gentle smiles, reassuring words and a willingness to make it as comfortable as possible for me that I'll take away with me. Although there was still a long way to go, I could face the next step with a little more peace in my heart.
A Theatre Full of Guardians and the Strangest Trip I Ever Took
The moment the theatre doors swung open, I was hit by a wave – not of cold air, but of sheer, unexpected noise. It wasn't a raucous crowd, more like a quiet hum, but still, the sheer number of people surprised me. "Why are there so many people?" I asked, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. The answer was both reassuring and utterly surreal: "We're all here to make sure you're safe." And they were. A small army of nurses, doctors – were there. Faces, many I only vaguely recall now, were kind and intent. The sheer weight of it all was overwhelming; the tears began to roll again, fuelled by pre-surgery nerves. Seeing my distress, one of the doctors, bless his soul, decided to deploy humour, of all things. He launched into a series of jokes, for some inexplicable reason, about cheese. Don't ask me why cheese! But the absurdity of it, the unexpectedness of it, had me and other theatre staff giggling.
Speaking of which… did you hear there was an explosion in a cheese factory recently? Da Bri everywhere!
Corny and undeniably dad-joke levels of awful, but they worked. They broke through the tension. Distracted, I allowed them to move me onto the table. The ritual began; meds to calm me, rapid-fire conversations in the background, the gentle touch of an oxygen mask. The nurse that had stayed with me, talking calmly, telling me what they were doing and holding my hand until I was asleep. The counting down began... and suddenly nothing. Then they remove my thyroid.
The initial estimate for the surgery had been two to three hours. When I finally woke, I was told it had been over five. My thyroid was very swollen and large. I woke in recovery, groggy, and was assured I had done well before promptly passing out again.
When I next regained consciousness, it was sometime in the night. I was no longer in recovery but in a room in a ward. I had an oxygen mask and the strange realisation that I couldn't move. I saw it: a Ketamine drip attached to my IV pole. I have multiple conditions and chronic pain, and Ketamine was the weapon of choice to keep it all under control. Have you ever heard of it? The uninitiated often call it an elephant tranquillizer. My personal experience? That’s underselling it, by a lot. I couldn’t even lift my head, no matter how hard I tried. I attempted to wiggle my fingers, only to discover I couldn’t and then, the world dissolved again.
The cycle repeated itself several times. I'd wake, disoriented, with no sense of time, usually staring vacantly at a nurse at the end of my bed. I was incredibly exhausted, my eyelids feeling like lead weights. I would wake up to a nurse or other random staff member talking to me, but I had no clue what they were saying (I still have no idea!).
TRIGGER WARNING - Images below of hospital and wound dressings
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I do not remember taking these pictures, but here you go.
This stuff is potent. So potent that it’s locked in a secure box on the IV pole, needing a two-person code to open it - one keyholder has to be a member of the pain team. It's some wicked stuff.
And the hallucinations. During my brief awake times, I remember seeing cockroaches scaling the walls, dangling from spiderwebs. Normally, a fully conscious, non-medicated me would have been OUT of there. My Ketamine-infused self, however, remembers thinking, "Oh, that's weird," before promptly drifting back to unconsciousness (ha!). When awake, I was not in pain, so it did its job. At one point I woke and was starving. With the medication working well and despite my throat having been cut and operated on, I wolfed down a sandwich before drifting off to Neverland again. I have to say, I remember it being the best sandwich of my life. Good ol hospital cheese sandwich and orange juice.
My experience was a chaotic mix of intense medical care, surreal comedy, and a truly bizarre psychedelic trip. While the memory of the surgery itself is still hazy and most of the initial post-surgery time is a blur of strange hallucinations and people with bobbleheads talking to me and putting my oxygen back on (how did it even get on the floor?) and the kindness of those cheese-joke-wielding doctors and the sheer power of the drugs are definitely not forgotten. This experience serves as a reminder that sometimes, the most unexpected things can happen when you're under the care of a team determined to keep you safe.
The world felt hazy, a kaleidoscope of echoes and muted sensations. After a few days confined within hospital walls and the reality of major surgery, I was finally released. Less one organ.
The Ketamine, which had been a constant companion, was gone, leaving behind a lingering fog. Groggy as I was, still navigating the ebb and flow of post-operative medication, I managed to gather my untouched overnight bag and stumble outside. My friend's familiar face was a welcome sight, a beacon in my still slightly disoriented state.
Home. Such a simple yet powerful word. Stepping back inside, the familiarity was comforting. The surgery had been successful, and a significant hurdle crossed. Now, the real work began: recovery. The anaesthesia and pain medication took their time to dissipate. Days melted into a blur of deep, healing sleep, mostly spent curled up in my armchair. But it was done. The process of diagnosis, preparation, and the surgery itself, was behind me. The medical team had done their job; now it was my turn to heal and regain my strength and zest. The prospect of feeling better and getting back to my routines filled me with hope.
TRIGGER WARNING - Images below of wound dressings AND undressed surgical wound
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Having been through this experience, I wanted to share some insights for anyone facing a thyroidectomy. This operation involves a delicate area, and the recovery can be a bit challenging, but manageable with the right care:
Tips for a Smoother Thyroidectomy Recovery:
Embrace the Upright Position: For the first few days, expect discomfort when lying flat. Sleeping in an armchair or propped up in bed or on the sofa will make a world of difference. It reduces pressure and helps with breathing.
Ice is Your Best Friend: The incision area can feel inflamed and burning. Stock up on ice packs and swap them out frequently. Apply them gently to your throat and neck to find relief. This is crucial for soothing the area and minimizing swelling.
Soft Foods are Key: Your throat will be sensitive, so stick to soft foods for the first few days. Custard, yoghurt, and ice cream are great choices. Avoid crunchy, hard, or chewy foods that require much effort to swallow. It also helps with the feeling of choking to have smooth, easy-to-swallow food in small amounts.
Mind the Temperature: Steer clear of drinks that are too hot, as they can irritate your throat. Lukewarm or cool beverages will be gentler on your recovering tissue.
Dry is Good: Try to avoid getting your neck and throat wet for a little while. Follow your doctor's instructions on how to keep the area clean and dry.
Hands Off: As tempting as it may be, resist the urge to poke or prod at your incision. The area will feel strange, but leave it alone to heal properly.
Listen to Your Body (and Your Doctor): Avoid lifting or bending until cleared by your doctor or surgeon. Overdoing it too soon can cause the incision to reopen, leading to complications. Recovery is a gradual process, not a sprint.
When in Doubt, Reach Out: If you have any concerns about anything, don't hesitate to contact a medical professional. It's always better to seek expert advice than to worry.
Recovery is a journey, not a destination. It takes time, patience, and careful attention to your body's needs. By following these tips and staying in tune with your body, the transition back to your normal routine after a thyroidectomy can be a smoother, less painful experience. Just remember, you're not alone, and you've got this!
Note: My recovery has not been a typical one. I have been hospitalised multiple times since surgery and will be slowly detailing this over time, keep an eye out for those posts. For now, I wanted to share the story of my actual surgery and give hope to those who are due to have the surgery.
If you are anxious, TELL the medical staff looking after you, they get it. They can help.
Take some deep breaths, calm yourself and ask the questions. I am proud of you for getting as far as you have!
Keep an eye on my upcoming posts. A lot of it is traumatic, so it will take me time to post it, but I will, in time, get there.
x x Tab
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