Kidney Transplant 2

I was oblivious of everything that transpired as the doctors worked on me during the operation. I finally woke up in the ICU unit. Lucy was there, and her sister Esther. I was gagging as I felt I was in a cage--or worse yet, in an iron mask. It was not a good feeling at all. At least I could breathe. Then I heard a voice telling me to relax, which helped the situation as I relaxed. I had a gastric tube down my throat, and I also had a breathing tube still placed. I couldn't talk.

They tied my hands, which upset Lucy. It was for my own safety, and the safety of the monitors around me. Lucy and Esther soon left. I couldn't communicate but I gradually woke up more. I became concerned about the breathing tube because I was afraid of choking. I became more concerned, especially when I felt that it was moving and could get in the way of being comfortable.

I motioned to the nurse to take it out. She insisted that I relax. As time went on I became more adamant about removing the tube and I became more insistent. She said that the monitors said everything was OK. But I was not OK. I was not to be quieted so she tied my hands, turned out the lights and walked away.

But I was not finished yet. I had a finger pulse oximeter on my finger to keep track of my oxygen level and I shamelessly tapped on the frame of my gurney to get attention. She came back and scolded me for it, but I kept insisting that I needed attention and I was not just a fussy patient. In the struggle that she precipitated, she got unintentionally scratched. She walked away and shouted, "He scratched me, he scratched me!"

Finally...someone with common sense came along to see what the fuss was all about. He reiterated the concern my caretaker had but I needed to bring them to the attention I needed. I motioned for a pencil and paper. I wrote down my concerns and as I wrote he asked questions. I told him that I felt something was not right and I needed more stability in the setup I had to deal with. He said that he would have to retape it. I wrote, "Retape it then!" He proceeded to retape whatever was needed. It turned out to be more than I expected, but when he finished, I felt it was more stable.

I motioned for the pencil and paper again. I wrote, "I am not a mean person. I did not scratch her on purpose. I was concerned about what was happening and needed it to be corrected."

As I wrote he realized that I was serious about my situation. He took the papers and walked back to the group of people and one by one they came and apologized, including my nurse. A half hour later they removed the breathing tube and I could talk again.

Months later I told the story to a nurse and she was horrified, "You shouldn't have remembered that!" she exclaimed. I was not medicated enough.

I was finally sent to my room from the ICU and then began the recovery. And I had a new setup to deal with; the urinary diversion. It was working fine but I had to get used to it.