From Starbucks to the OR; Stories from the other side of the nurses station

Recently I had an epidural in my back due to a pinched nerve, which was causing some pain, but more importantly limiting my activities. The procedure was nothing, but the process was involved and interesting.

The procedure was scheduled for an outpatient surgery center at the corner of Regents Road and La Jolla village drive. An anesthesiologist was to do the procedure. I had previously had an MRI. Prior to arriving at the center I had filled out a lengthy medical history and sworn that someone would drive me home.

Upon arriving I was checked inn by a nurse and given a hospital gown with hat and booties to put on. I was hooked up to a blood pressure machine and a pulse recorder. The doctor, an imposing figure at 6’5” or more impressed me as a competent, straightforward person. He explained the procedure and left. Jeff Eaton, son of Gary and Linda, who does surgery at the center, popped in to say hello.

I was then passed along to another nurse who wheeled me to the OR, where I laid face down on a bed. The doctor was there, but I couldn’t see him. I felt a couple of needles, which I assumed was the local anesthetic. I was wondering when the real shot would take place, when the nurse got me up and said we were finished.

She wheeled me to the recovery area and handed me off to another nurse. I now felt like a football, but I didn’t care because clearly we were making yardage and moving downfield. After a diet coke, I dressed and the nurse led me through a door to the parking lot.

Though I was only there a couple of hours, I felt culture shock. It was if someone dropped you into Rome for an afternoon and then teleported back to San Diego.

Everyone was nice and did their job, but Starbucks to the OR in 45 minutes was a strange experience.