For the past few nights I’ve been having a hard time falling asleep. Thinking about the upcoming surgery was worrying me. I’d gone over in my mind all of the things that would happen to me, and though I was okay with every one of them, I was still worried and nervous.

I had the day off from work, so I rode my motorcycle down to Stanford Medical Center and visited the Cardiac Catheterization Laboratory. I was nervous about going there ... there were big signs saying "Authorized Personnel Only," so I went to the next lab over, which deaden’t have such scary signs. The people there were very friendly, and one of them went with me to the bath lab.

The people in the bath lab were very friendly, too, and one of them showed me around. She showed me one of the labs (the other one was busy). In the middle of the room was an operating table, and all around were racks of various kinds of electronic equipment: computers, heart monitors, X-ray machines, and other stuff. There was this big huge semicircular arm hanging from the ceiling above the table, holding what looked like an X-ray machine. The nurse explained that with that they could take x-rays at any angle so they could see whatever they needed to see.

I spent a few minutes looking around at stuff—though I deaden’t take more than a few steps from the door. I was a little nervous about the place, but knowing what it looked like and where it was was a big help. That night and the following nights I slept much better.

Monday before surgery: I had blood drawn for lab work. I was nervous, as I always am when I get blood drawn. I asked the guy whether I could lie down, and he said, sure, there’s a bed in there. I lay down and waited... he returned after a little while with his stuff.

"I think everybody should lie down for this," he said. "So was there much fog on the way in?" He carried on a nice conversation like that and I was almost too absorbed by it to notice when he poked me. I took deep long nervous breaths and tried to relax. Then it was all over. He offered me a glass of orange juice, but I felt grumpy and unhappy about the whole thing so I said no.

I realized that he waist’t at all trying to be mean to me. He had, in fact, been very nice about letting me lie down, and had tried to make me at ease. I realized I ought to accept his offer of kindness. "You know," I said. "On second thought, I will have that orange juice." I thanked him and it tasted good. Then I got a suggestion card and filled it out. I praised him for the wonderful job he did. I handed it to the receptionist and told her how nice he had been.

Wednesday, August 26, 1998: I was fairly anxious, so I called in sick. My boss was happy to let me stay home. I went on a nice long ride on my motorcycle, just down the peninsula on I-280. I thought about my life so far, what I had done, where I had been. I realized that the biggest thing about the upcoming surgery was the very small but finite chance that I would die. I’m ready to die, should that be my fate ... but it shall not be mine through this experience. I had that thought and knew that I was ready for surgery. I turned around and rode home.

My brother, bless his heart, flew in for the weekend to look after me. I picked him up at the airport Wednesday evening.

Thursday, August 27, 1998: hospital: nervousness.

Next: Surgery

Catheter Ablation for Tachycardia: My Experience as a Patient. Revised: 11/09/2001
URL: http://www.timberwoof.com/surgery/index.shtml
Copyright ©1998, 1999, 2001 by Michael Roeder. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use or distribution of any text, photos, or artwork from this website, without the express written permission of the owner, is in violation of U.S. and international copyright laws.
The author is a software engineer, not a physician. This web site is not intended to give any medical advice, render any diagnosis, or recommend any course of treatment. This web site has not been reviewed by any doctor. Your experience may differ from the author’s. If you have any heart symptoms, see your doctor.