6:30 am – We arrive at the hospital. Surgical reception lady was friendly, upbeat, and took me right away for some basic paperwork. I’m feeling a strange mix of excitement that the day has arrived, a little fear (at 59, I’ve never had an operation before…I still have my tonsils, appendix, wisdom teeth, etc.), and bleary-eyedness; we had to get up at 5 am to get there on time, and I haven’t started a day in the last 30 years of my life without a cup of coffee and lighting up my pipe. My whole system is in unfamiliar territory! We march down the hall, and wait to be called in.
7:30 am, and I’m being prepped. I’m in a 1930s hospital housefrau robe. I have one IV in my left hand, and one in my right, each an antibiotic (my Doc, Dr Gross, is really serious about preventing infection. I’ve been washing my junk with a special soap for the last week, and took an antibiotic pill last night.) Someone else is drawing blood for a CBC. They’re taking my temperature, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. Blood pressure is borderline low, which is weird, because I take high blood pressure meds and I’m always high. Maybe the lack of coffee and nicotine.
The Anesthesiologist stops in to chat. His assistant stops in to chat. The assisting nurse stops in to chat, and verifies my last name - except I lie, and get some enjoyment watching her face.... Another nurse stops in to chat. The Surgeon (Gross) stops in to chat.
At exactly 9:30 am, they put some ‘minor’ anesthesia into one of the IV drips, and Doc asks me if I’m ready. I respond, “Let’s do it!” – and I don’t remember a damned thing from that second on.
* * *
1:00 pm or thereabouts, Recovery room...I was apparently singing showtune songs for some time, and talking about 401k investment strategies with a nurse monitoring me, but I remember NONE of it! Not even vaguely! (My husband tells me I sang well…and apparently the entire operating team was coming back to check on me. They needed to give me some oxygen, as oxygen level was low – 95% - as was my blood pressure.)
2:00 pm –They’ve moved me from recovery to my room (Dr Gross insists on keeping implant patients overnight.) I get a glimpse of my body: My package is wrapped in a package of gauze, so I can’t really see it. I have a huge catheter that runs from my bladder to a bag at the side of the bed. It feels really weird – I can tell I’m dripping urine, but there’s no bladder pressure. I have another tube running from my dick to a little plastic bag to drain blood. More IVs, pills, and a neighborhood of nurses introducing themselves. I’m pretty upbeat. Doc comes in and let’s me know all went very well, and reviews what will happen in the morning. I order dinner, and flirt with the very embarrassed young man who brings it to me and naively asks, “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” It becomes a running joke between us until I leave.
I’m tired and try to sleep, but I have to stay on my back, and I don’t like to sleep on my back, so it’s not a good night’s sleep. Plus, every three hours they come in for the blood pressure-temperature-oxygen rate routine checks….Nurse informs me that Doc Gross will be checking on me at 7 am, so I ask her to wake me at 6 am so I can eat and be coherent.
- Day 1.PNG (438.03 KiB) Viewed 2592 times
DAY 2
Nurse wakes me at 6 am by bringing me a pot of coffee from the nursing station. I think I’m in love. Breakfast arrives, and a new team of nurses comes in to introduce themselves, including a student nurse from Morocco (we have a great conversation.)
Doc arrives as promised at 7 am, and proceeds to unwrap my package. I get to see the work for the first time. I was expecting black and blue and a mess – but damn, it looked good. Dr. Gross believes in inflating the Titan to about 60% full for the first two weeks, so I have a raging hard on. I’m wearing a jockstrap to keep it perfectly upright, and I’ll have to wear this for the next two weeks, at which point he will deflate it and we’ll go over operating it together.
More antibiotics (of course), some pain killers, a stool softener (I haven’t gone yet), and Doc tells me I can leave *after* I have walked around a bit, and have taken my first piss, but to take my time.
At about 9 am, the nurse comes in with a student intern to remove my urethral catheter. Before she does so, a male nurse comes in with two younger students as well. Smart-ass that I am, I say, “Sure, I’m gonna whip out my dick, and everyone comes in for the party!” Turns out the last three had just come in to look at the wall chart system, but everyone laughed and I asked aloud if the #MeToo movement was gonna go after me now. Fortunately, *everyone* is good-natured about it.
Nurse pulls out my catheter – TOTALLY WEIRD feeling. Then my blood drain is removed by the Doc – no problem there. And I have to pee. They give me a plastic bottle and away we go! Pissed about 450 units (not sure what they were – milliliters?), and then they decide to do a bladder ultrasound to see how much remained in my bladder; 75 units. Not bad, they say. Doc says I’m free to go home.
So, now I’m home, typing up this account. Making a TON of errors as I type, probably partly due to the fact that I’m on Oxycodone for pain.
General comments on my condition 24 hours later:
Staying upbeat and jovial in the hospital was a big help mentally.
Pissing burns like hell…like pissing glass shards...through a hard-on.
I admit it, my groin hurts. Like a 7 on a 1-10 scale, even with the Oxycodone.
I still get a little dizzy standing up.
My dick feels completely numb, and my balls hurt every time we hit a pothole or small bump on the way home.
It’s hard to find a comfortable way to sit, although I seem to be doing best sitting “Indian style” in a big comfy chair, but leaning back so that all the weight is on the upper part of my ass.
And overall, completely satisfied with the experience, grateful to the fantastic team who took care of me, eternal grateful to my husband who thought “two steps ahead” every step the way, and looking forward to the healing process.
80 yrs., married 57 yrs. ED for over 20 yrs.