Woke up at the obscene hour of 4am. Okay, it’s not totally foreign to me since I already get up between 5am and 6am anyway, but to be told to report for heart bypass surgery at 5:30am 35 miles from your house just seems bizarre. Checked in at the desk at St. Joe’s in my now lucky and famous Martin Truex Jr. / Kentucky Fried Chicken shirt. I figure that if you’re gonna do things, you ought to do things that make you laugh even when facing some daunting circumstances. And you have to admit that wearing a KFC t-shirt into a cardiac ward is on the list of stuff that is a tick funny.

Anyway, during the pre-operative interview with a member of the Anesthesiology department, several notes were made on my chart:

Patient is anxious (up arrow – up arrow – up arrow)
Give patient something to relax in pre-op
Patient has high tolerance for anesthesia

(The last line is terribly true. They said that I required over seven times the normal amount during the cardiac catheterization two weeks ago. Apparently I just wouldn’t shut up despite the doctor asking me several times to be quiet so he could concentrate on working on my heart. Not shocking, but more than a little surprising I’d say considering the circumstances).

I appreciated the hospital’s ability to identify a patient that was:

A) EXTREMELY anxious, and
B) Delicate when it came to needles.

Ayway, I was early to arrive since I didn't sleep well and also since I was Dr. Murphy's first and only patient of the day. After all we'd been thru to that point, I thought it would be rude to keep him waiting.

I was called back to pre-op curtain area 7 around 6:20am and I immediately said "hey...that's good news. I got Robby Gordon's number."

Actually, the first thing I thought was that Lauren would be happy if I were in curtain area 8 since she loves Junior and all.

Vincent was the guy tasked with making sure I was ready and relaxed when the doctors called.

Thanks to the nervous notations, the first thing I got was a Xanax, then a VERY small IV that was immediately filled with something magical, because I stopped giving a shit about anything at that exact second.

The wife and I shared a few pleasntries and I assured her that everything would be fine, and she did the same for me. The funny thing is that I really was a lot less nervous about the bypass than I was the cardiac catheterization, if THAT makes any sense at all.

From there I was wheeled into the operating room that contained "The da Vinci Robot." It can't be moved or anything, so that OR is where every one of these procedures at St. Joe's has ever been done.

I remember the anesthesiologist and his team being very nice and friendly, and they assured me that I was in great hands. They also put something else into my IV that made me feel pretty assured that I could actually be shot with a gun and not feel anything.

It is at this point that the guy said "you're gonna start feeling pretty relaxed," and the next thing I knew it was Thursday evening. (That guy deserves a raise, by the way).

Later, the wife informed me that Dr. Murphy came out to see her around 8:30am to talk to my family. He said that they'd started the IV and would be starting the procedure around 9am. He said that they should be done around 12:30pm - 1:00pm and gave my wife his nurse's cell phone number.

at 10:10am, Brian called from the OR and said they were just starting. Anesthesia was taking longer to take than normal and that all of the safety precautions they have to do to the robot take longer as well.

I was appreciative of these safety measures, because I didn't want to wake up hearing "Open the pod bay doors, HAL. I SAID OPEN THE POD BAY DOORS, HAL!!"

At 2:40pm, Dr. Murphy called and said that it had worked and that there were no problems, etc. He also said that it had taken longer than they had expected because I was such a big guy. I assume he meant from the waist down.

At 3:55pm they brought my wife back to see me. I sort of recall it, but I remember because I was freaked out because of the ventilator. They tell you and tell you until you're blue in the face, but the fact is that nothing prepares you for trying to remain calm when you wake up in an ICU and are on a respirator.

Once I was extubated (it's a real word...look it up) I was much better. Except for the fact that I thought I was going to fucking die. My chest hurt. A lot. That's all there was. Oh, and I was thirsty. VERY thirsty. It was several hours before they'd even throw me a bone and give me some ice chips. Not much happened the rest of the day except that they got me out of bed and into a chair and made me cough. Coughing sucked. I cannot tell you how much it sucked. But it sucked.

Eventually, an angel in scrubs brought me some ice and later some water. I learned to manage water and ice consumption like a champ, and it really made my night tolerable.

Oh, and I also found out that during pre-op, I was re-shorn on just one side of my groin, leaving a tri-level area of different lengths that's gonna be a bear to maintain.

Unless I just go the easy way and keep the garden bare.

Sleep on that image, my friends.