So the bronch....I feel like I'm getting ptsd just thinking about it. The bronch wasn't until 11:45 on Tuesday which meant that I was very hungry (and, as Isaiah said, hanxious) when we got to the hospital at 10:30 for all the pre-op stuff. My hunger was made worse by the fact that I had to walk past everyone eating at the breakfast table to get to the bathroom in the morning.
The pre-op nurses were very nice and listened to me about where to put in the IV for which I was quite grateful. The nurse got it in the first attempt, although with quite a bit of painful digging. The other nurse was asking me about the medication at that time and asked me how I felt after the last bronch. My last bronch was in Halifax and went fantastic as the doctor super drugged me up. The last bronch in Toronto was not as pleasent. I told her that I needed more meds than the last time and she reminded me that I was suppose to be 'consciously sedated' and not 100% knocked out. I told her that I tend to panic if I'm not knocked out so just note that I need extra drugs. She didn't note it.
I felt okay because I had talked about it so much with the doctor in clinic that I still felt as though I would get enough meds. Then an inpatient person was rolled into the pre-op area with a different doctor (who I knew from all my time in the hospital). The nurses told me the new patient was being added to the schedule and going in for a bronch the same time as me. The doctor gave a play by play of what happens during a bronch to the in-patient woman and her family, which really freaked me out.
After a bit, I was taken to a freezing room where I was given the freezing stuff to gargle and the terrible mask.
|The freezing mask|
I told the doctor that I needed extra meds and that I had woken up last procedure. He reassured me that I was going to be given the same amount as last time which was enough to "knock him out for three days." I said that I needed more and that if I was awake during the procedure, I would unconsciously be fighting against them.
The resident gave me more freezing spray, explained all the things that could go wrong, and had me sign the consent. Then I moved over to the procedure table, the nurse gave me the sedation, and I must've been knocked out for a bit but it felt like I was instantly opening my eyes only be able to see the towel they place over the face and was choking.
I felt like I couldn't breathe and started to panic. I started shaking and kept trying to cough and all I could hear was the doctor and nurse telling me in a panicked voice to stop trying to talk. I'm not sure why they thought I was trying to talk? Do people do that? I definitely wasn't, I was trying to get the 'I'm choking and dying' feeling to stop. The panic in their voices while they kept telling me that it was almost over, that I needed to stop trying to talk and to just relax, did not help me.
Besides, has telling someone that they need to calm down ever actually worked?
I did not calm down.
I continued to hyperventilate, shaking, and half-coughing until they were done. It was terrible. Once the scope was finally removed and I was able to breathe again, I couldn't stop crying for quite some time. It was traumatic. The doctor kept asking if I was okay and I had no answer because my throat hurt too much to talk and I was just focusing on breathing. I kept shaking my head.
They wheeled me into the recovery room where I laid until the x-ray man showed up with the x-ray-machine-on-wheels to make sure I had no air trapped in my lungs. After the x-ray was done and cleared by a doctor, I was free to go. I got dressed and a porter wheeled me to the front door and then Isaiah and I walked back to the B&B. It was a clear sign that I wasn't given enough sedation when I felt okay to walk around.
Back at the B&B, I did manage to nap for the afternoon before we went out for supper and gelato. My throat was super sore yesterday and still a bit sore today but I haven't had any of the other possible side-effects (temp, coughing up blood, collasped lung, etc...). I imagine my throat is raw from me trying to fight off the scope.
|Mmmm gelato to try and erase the trauma.|
The doctors always say they understand but then never give me enough meds. I understand why they couldn't when I was first post-transplant as my lungs weren't strong enough to handle that many drugs. But I can handle them now! I was given loads last Nov in Halifax and was out the entire time and it was wonderful. I really hope this doctor charted how terrible it went so the next one, in 6 months, will understand that I'm not joking when I say "I need to be out so give me all the drugs," otherwise I really will be crying.