Imagine being on that table: Operating Theatre with Robotic Surgery Machine
27 February 2020: Up at 4 am, Uber to hospital in the dark for my radical prostatectomy. I’m so scared and yet something is reassuring about all the rules, uniforms, gleaming corridors of the hospital.
I am inviting a surgeon to make half a dozen holes in my tummy and insert robotic arms with lights, cameras, tweezers, mini-chompers like crocodile clips, and scalpels right to my core. Scared, but not doubting my decision. I suppose I prefer the firmness of action – cutting out the whole prostate in one go, instead of eating away at it with radiation therapy. I like but it feels too late for the natural approach – entrusting my future to a change of diet and attitude and ramping up my already-healthy living.
Eventually it is time to be wheeled into the operating theatre. My heart drops so far down it almost bounces off my ankles. Bright lights. Da Vinci machine with so many arms I can’t count. Barely in my field of vision, a couple of metres away, is the huge command console with my surgeon already immersed in it. Knowing I am going to go under, go deep under, and as the surgeon said “in a tiny percentage of cases death is the outcome.” What is different this time is truly amazing – when I get into the theatre, the whole team introduce themselves! Two of these medical professionals even shake my hand!
This changes everything. These are human beings. They are a team working for my good health. I am grateful and sink under with peace and hope.
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What a scary moment!
This brings back the mixed emotions of “Surgery Day”. Happiness, relief that the day has finally arrived after numerous tests, but anxiety and fear of the process to come. Yes one of the rare complications of surgery is…death…try not to think about it, focus on the positive…The operating room is such an intimidating place. as a patient you are stripped of all identity safe for the little band on your wrist that tells all. I have a memory of lying on the stretcher waiting to go into the OR when the lovely young Gynecologist who finally arrived at my diagnosis spots me and comes over to say hello and give me some encouragement. It is great that the routine these days is for all the OR staff to introduce themselves as part of the pre-op safety checks as I had not yet met my operating surgeon. I was also very lucky as I had the privilege of asking one of my trusted colleagues to be my anesthesiologist. It was very reassuring to know the fellow who was going to be putting me to sleep, making sure i woke up and supervising my post op pain control. i felt safe in giving up control to this team Al did a little dance of joy in the hospital corridor when the surgeon came out to tell him my surgery had gone well and there was no evidence of spread.We sometimes forget the impact this disease has on our loved ones.
Yes! Our loved ones are hugely impacted. And having had prior contact with your anaesthetist is a great help at that scary moment.
A scary time indeed, but having a fatalistic attitude helps – it has to be done because the alternative is death by cancer, so just get on with it and take it all on the chin and smile as often as you can!