Mom performed a master class on how to handle surgery without grace or ease
Like most Generation Xers, I grew up in the Just Say No era, which was about “This is your brain on drugs – do you have any questions?” for an egg cracked open in a pan. Every tiny bit of substance would get us straight to jail, hell, or skid row. My friends and I obeyed and said no, convinced we could never face our parents if we were caught even with a joint.
So there is something strange and wonderful about seeing my mother as high up as the Space Needle, which abstained just as much as she insisted I do. She blurs her words. She makes up sentences. She says it feels worse than the contractions. She asked Ryan (my ace in Los Angeles) to give her pain medication even after the nurse named Austin gave a morphine drip.
She won’t remember any of these, and the relief that she is okay is the only permission I need to laugh every five minutes. We are lucky because others face dire consequences in their situation.
During a superficial CT scan with contrast agent three weeks ago, the doctors found that one of my mother’s carotid arteries was more than 80% blocked. The other was almost as alarming. This was certainly an imminent stroke area. If she didn’t remove the badge as soon as possible, it would fail.
They planned a carotid endarterectomy, an operation that involves cutting the neck to open the artery and release the blockage.
To draw attention to this problem that my mother could have prevented, I offer a little humor and satire about our experience. My mom gave a full Oprah-worthy masterclass on how to torture your child. Remember my mom is a retired English professor, so a seasoned professional teacher:
1. Double the technology resistor.
First, the best way to communicate the news of your health emergency to your loved ones is to send a photo of the doctor’s general document explaining the diagnosis. Via WhatsApp. Forget the usual SMS challenges.
It’s important to know that when I took my mom to the preoperative appointments for her triple bypass 10 years ago, the ultrasound revealed a 40% blockage. But ignoring the technician’s advice to change diet and exercise habits was just a Ted talk alongside this master class. Which brings me to the next lesson.
2. Completely ignore any doctor’s recommendations for changing lifestyle.
Load up your fries or your nachos or whatever you have covered with chilli, cheese and other high cholesterol stuff. And then, in your full retirement, you won’t find time to exercise intensely. For 10 years.
3. Do not call your child to warn them of an upcoming surgery. You don’t want to disturb him.
After your aunt finally provided your son with information four days before the operation (Aunt Travis’ 87 years got through it all) and after trying to arrange the logistics to be with you in Dallas during the operation, you call and start the conversation with the following:
“I know that when someone has some type of surgery and I get it, it is a common practice for the whole family to gather together. That happened when I was a kid. And I am always happy to see you and love to have you near me. But I don’t know if you have to jump through hoops to try to be here just to support you. “
“This is not soul food,” I tell her. “I’m not coming to Dallas because there is a Kumbaya mandate. I come to the office because I am your next of kin and if something happens I may need to be able to make decisions. “
“But they can call you or put you on Zoom with technology like it is these days.”
Was that a trap? What was she talking about? Because surely it is better to disrupt my random Tuesday with a phone call asking me to find a way to resolve a complication in surgery that I had no idea was happening.
“I’ll be there for the operation.”
Now, let’s take a moment to acknowledge the blessing of working in Houston just an hour’s flight away. Also, join me in thanking God for seeing the doctors pinpoint the clogged artery. For this reason I am writing; I want everyone who reads to instantly add a high contrast CT scan (or an MRI or MRI angiogram, or even a regular CT scan) to the medical menus of the baby boomers and chilli cheese fry addicts in your family.
4. Disregard things that need your special attention after surgery.
Understand that most things you may not be able to do after surgery, but don’t make any effort to clarify before surgery.
It turned out to be overnight (or a second night, depending on blood pressure) in the grandest suite of them all, with a second room for family members to hang up in if needed. Remarkably, when she was released she was back at her normal pace, her scar being the only indication that she had been cut.
Nowadays, they use a surgical adhesive that allows people recovering from surgery to shower and heal faster. This reminds me of one way to torment your child that needs to be higher on the list:
5. Find out absolutely nothing about the post-op or the procedure used to orient family members.
Don’t ask questions about COVID-19 logs, locations, and potential recovery time. Leave all of this to the family members to keep track of them. If only I had known about the fancy room.
My mother is fine and I’m delighted, all jokes aside. The scary part that should be mentioned again here is that nothing about her activity or general movement would have alerted anyone that she was in the stroke area.
Unless it is a CT scan, in addition to heart monitoring, you should also be extremely vigilant with a medical exam of carotid blood flow. Because of course we have to do the other side a few months after she has recovered from this one. Earlier if they didn’t fix Item # 2.
If there is someone who has taken a master class dealing with all of the above, please do not keep this information to yourself.
While mom is still high from the anesthetic, she asks Austin if she can take her own medication, the Tylenol 3 with codeine, which she has come to love. He explains that she cannot.
“That”, she says about the morphine, “not strong enough.”
I clutch her hand and look at her steadily.
“Just say no,” I say.
Jamal Story is the dance and air director for Cher’s Here We Go Again Tour and an alumnus of Southern Methodist University. He wrote this column for the Dallas Morning News.
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