Laryngoplasty (Thyroplasty Type I) - Second Attempt - Strong winds since morning

[ 6:00 AM : Wake up ]

The room lights turned on at wake-up time.
I sat up in bed and stretched slowly.
It would be a disaster if I got a cramp in my leg during surgery.
I tried to slowly stretch my stiff muscles and tendons.
Gently, without overdoing it. It's so stiff it's laughable.
When I stretched my shins, the soles of my feet felt like they were going to cramp.
When I stretched my hamstrings, the muscles in my buttocks and lower back were pulled.
The human body is connected everywhere.
It's impossible to ask for flexibility two hours before surgery.
This is how my daily habits come back to haunt me.
"You reap what you sow..."
I cursed at my body that wouldn't stretch at all.

[ 7:01 AM : Facility Announcement ]

"Code Blue, Code Blue, Ward 4!
Code Blue, Code Blue, Ward 4!"
The first time I heard a real "Code Blue".
My hands, which were taking out my change of clothes, stopped for a moment.

[ 7:55 AM : Preparation ]

I changed into a surgical gown and waited to be "picked up".
Valuables are to be put in a security box
and the key is to be left at the nurse station.
I stored my wallet, smartphone, wristwatch, and PC in the box.
Under the surgical gown, I only have underwear on. I'm not even wearing socks.
It's quite cold, so I crawled back under the covers.
When I closed my eyes, I suddenly remembered "bagworms".
When I was a child, in winter, I would often find bagworm nests,
take out the larvae inside, and play with them in my palms.
They seem to be an endangered species now. No wonder I don't see them anymore.

[ 8:20 AM : Pick up ]

The nurse came to pick me up.
She brought a wheelchair. Apparently, this is how I'll be moving.
I was told I would walk there, but it seems that's not the case.
Being transported in a wheelchair when I have no pain or itching anywhere
makes me feel a bit apologetic.
We went down in the elevator and proceeded to the central operating room area.
I was held up on the way and handed over to the operating room nurse.
Every time the person in charge changed, I was asked my name and date of birth multiple times.
Although they also manage it with barcodes on the ID wristband I'm wearing,
having the patient declare their name and date of birth each time is likely a reflection of the fact that
there are mistakes in patient identification.
I understood that they are minimizing the risk of errors by adding mechanical management,
confirmation by the person in charge, and self-declaration.

[ 8:40 AM : Operating Room ]

I was laid on the operating table and a pillow was placed under my back near my neck.
My chin was lifted and my neck was stretched out.
The doctor approached suddenly, holding a container with brown liquid and sponge forceps in both hands.
"Mr./Ms. XX, I'm going to disinfect you now. It will be a little cold."
Neck, chest, chin, cheeks, ears, nose, around the eyes... Everything from the chest up, including the face.
"Going for local anesthesia now."
(Local? Ah, local anesthesia.)
"It will hurt a little."
(I don't really want it to hurt... Oh, it really hurts!)
I could feel the injection needle piercing the left side of my neck and the liquid entering.
About 3 seconds per spot. I think it was 5 or 6 spots...
The doctor talked to me while pressing on my neck with his fingers.
"How is it? Does it hurt?"
"It doesn't hurt. I can feel the pressure."
"Okay, local anesthesia is good. Monitor, please.
Mr./Ms. XX, we will start the surgery from ****."
This surgery does not involve "arytenoid adduction," but rather
moving the vocal cords that have a gap by pushing them inward to reduce the gap between the vocal cords, making it easier to produce sound.

I cut a part of the left side of my neck to approach the thyroid cartilage, open a "window" there,
and insert "Gore-Tex" to push the vocal cords from there. Gore-Tex is
convenient because it can be used folded or rolled up. First, I remove the
Gore-Tex inserted last time, and I can tell they are pulling with considerable force. It must be adhered to the thyroid cartilage.
Along the way, they were saying things like "Chisel and hammer!" or "Get the spatula."
I can actually feel them hitting my throat with a hammer and chisel.
To think that surgery on a delicate part like the vocal cords is like carpentry.
When I asked later, they said that since they shift and shave bone, such work
comes up. They also said, "Otolaryngologists do manual labor."
They insert the Gore-Tex again, and while pressing the vocal cords from the thyroid cartilage side,
they make me produce sound to explore where and how much Gore-Tex to pack.
"Okay, say 'eeeeee' and make a sound."
"What is your name? How old are you?"
"Okay, keep saying 'eeeeee'."
The raspy voice that sounded like it had phlegm in it became a clear voice for a moment.
"This is it. This feels right. Okay, one more time, 'eeeeee'."
Repeating "eeeeee" over and over again.
"I think I can do a little better... I want to. Hmm...
Where should I settle on..." the doctor is agonizing.
"How about around here? Is this okay?"
I was asked suddenly, but I didn't know how to respond...
"The raspy feeling like phlegm is stuck has decreased, so I think it's good..."
So, we decided on the position and checked the voice quality produced.
At the doctor's discretion, a titanium plate is used in addition to the Gore-Tex.
This is because titanium prevents the Gore-Tex from "lifting" or "falling out," and its hardness
can maintain the subtle degree of pushing for a long period of time.
The procedure was almost finished in about 2 hours. Finally, the incision in my neck was stapled shut.
Click, click.

[ 4:29 PM : Post-operative check ]

"Take your time, please come to the treatment room."
I was called by the ENT department to check my post-operative condition.
"How is your condition?"
I show them the memo on my smartphone.
"The surgical site has started to throb with a pulsating pain.
The surface of my neck feels prickly."
"To some extent, it can't be helped. If the pain is too strong,
please let us know. We have painkiller tablets and IV drips."
As usual, they pass a nasal endoscope through my right nostril to check the condition of my vocal cords.
"Ah, it's clean. There are no problems."
So the check itself was over in about a minute.
I was given permission to drink water in small amounts.
If there were no pain, that would be perfect, but
I shouldn't be too greedy.

[ 6:00 PM : Rounds ]

"Mr./Ms. XX, how are you?"
The doctor who performed the procedure came for rounds in high spirits.
"Ah, you look well. That's good, that's good."
"The pain should be less than last time."
"You will have normal meals starting tomorrow."
"Were you able to drink tea? It's no problem if it's in small amounts."
"Discharge is scheduled for Friday, one week from now, so that's the 2nd."
"I'm sorry that you ended up being hospitalized over the New Year."
"I don't think they will serve mochi for New Year's."
He said and left.
I thought he was a good, reliable doctor.

[ 7:00 PM : Netflix ]

I'll watch Stranger Things Season 5 Vol. 2,
read a book, and go to bed early.
I'm really tired after all.
I'm also hungry.