My First Surgery and Two Weeks in Bed

If you are reading this while waiting for surgery, this is my record of my first operation and the days I spent in bed.

I wrote previously about the day I was told I had cancer, and the things I researched and decided afterward. This time, I will talk about my time after being admitted to the hospital.

I slept reasonably well the night before

The surgery was the day after I was admitted. The day before, I received explanations from my attending physician and the anesthesiologist, signed several documents, took a shower, ate, and then it was just time to sleep.

You might find it surprising, but I slept reasonably well the night before. At that time, the diagnosis was still around "Stage 1," and I felt from the doctors that it wasn't going to be a major surgery.

In front of the operating room

On the day of the surgery, as soon as I woke up, they secured a vein for an IV. From there, I walked with a nurse to the operating room. My wife followed me with a worried look on her face.

In front of the operating room, we said our temporary goodbyes. I couldn't help but think that if the worst were to happen, this might be the end, but we exchanged words with a smile, saying, "Don't worry. It will be fine."

"Oh, that's the thing you see in dramas"

The first thing I thought when I entered the operating room was, "Oh, that's the thing you see in dramas..." The doctors were washing their hands, putting on gloves, and holding their hands up. Even though it was my first time seeing it, for some reason, I felt a sense of déjà vu.

Looking back now, perhaps I was trying to calm myself down by viewing the scene with that kind of detachment. Thanks to that, I managed not to get too nervous.

I received the anesthesia explanation, lay down, and a mask was placed over my face. Even as the gas started flowing, my consciousness was still clear. At the anesthesiologist's signal, the medication entered through the IV line I had secured—and within a few seconds, my consciousness faded.

It goes without saying, but I had absolutely no pain or memory during the surgery.

The first thing I saw when I woke up

When I came to, the surgery was over. The mouthpiece that had been in my throat hurt a little, and my consciousness was hazy while I was being transported to my room in the bed.

In that state, I felt relieved when I saw the face of my wife, who had been waiting for me the whole time. I was glad that the worst-case scenario didn't happen.

What was painful wasn't the pain

For the first two or three days after surgery, I had to spend time with tubes attached to drain blood and bodily fluids. I had to go to the bathroom on my own while rolling the IV stand. I could only take a shower after the tubes were removed.

As for the pain, there was no excruciating pain. The painkillers were working.

What was difficult wasn't the pain... it was the uncomfortable sensation of the tubes coming out of my body. By nature, I'm the type of person who looks away when getting an injection. So, having tubes inside my body the whole time was mentally a bit tough. I even had to be careful when turning over in bed.

So, when they finally removed the tubes after a few days, I felt truly relieved. I thought, 'Now I can finally move the way I want to.'

A movie marathon, just as planned

When my hospitalization was decided, the thing I thought about most seriously was how to spend my time in bed. I was told the hospital stay would be at least two weeks. I imagined that time as realistically as possible and prepared accordingly. I even took the plunge and bought an iPad, which I had been holding off on until then.

My plan was to 'forget about work and indulge in movies and reading.' The situation was serious, but my motto is to be as cheerful and positive as possible.

The result was a huge success. I watched all the movies I had wanted to see but couldn't because I was too busy with work, and I read the manga I had been saving up on my e-reader. I felt deeply grateful to live in an era where I could enjoy so much entertainment from my bed.

I also prepared an arm mount that attaches to the bed frame, so the tablet would be right in front of my eyes without me having to hold it. The nurse who came to check on me even laughed and said, 'I'm jealous.'

My daily routine was: wake up, temperature check, meals, and doctor's rounds. After that, it was free time. I had been running at full speed until then, so I decided it was acceptable to allow myself this much.

The consideration of not meeting

I communicated with my family every day via phone and LINE. However, I intentionally asked them to reduce their visits.

I relied on a rental service for changing clothes, so I told them, 'You don't have to push yourself to come every day.' My wife works too, and I didn't want to burden her. Besides, especially in the beginning, I had tubes coming out of my body and looked more critically ill than necessary, so I also wanted to avoid worrying them.

I was very grateful for the offers to visit from my boss and colleagues, but I politely declined. I didn't want to cause them too much worry—and besides, everyone else was busy working while I was just lounging in bed watching movies. To be honest, I felt a bit guilty or awkward about them seeing me like that.

Before I knew it, I was hooked

While browsing news and YouTube between movies, topics about generative AI started catching my eye. I had been curious about it for a while, but I never had the time and had only glanced at it in passing.

Thinking it might be useful after I was discharged, I started reading about it mostly out of curiosity. As it turned out, it was fascinating. It seemed easier to get started than I had imagined.

Before I knew it, I was hooked, and I was spending more time looking at AI-related information than watching movies.

How this encounter led to what followed is something I wrote about in a previous article.

The day of discharge

My hospital stay ended in two weeks, just as I was initially told. On the day of my discharge, my wife was also called to the hospital, and we received an explanation of the pathology results from my doctor. They showed me a cross-section of the removed tissue. I'm not good with those kinds of things and almost looked away, but I listened carefully because it was important.

The result was that the cancer was larger than I had imagined, and it was 'on the verge of entering stage 2.' That said, no cancer cells were found in the cross-section of the removed tissue, so the surrounding area should be fine.

However, there was one thing. A small number of cancer cells were found in the lymphatic vessels within the removed lesion. The lymphatic vessels connect to the lymph nodes that were left behind. Before the surgery, I was told that 'it probably won't be necessary to remove the lymph nodes,' but the policy changed to observing carefully after discharge and removing the lymph nodes if there are any signs of swelling.

When I got home, I felt relieved to be back in my own house after such a long time. The hospital food was better than I expected, but my wife's cooking is still the best. Being able to sit around the dining table with my whole family was the thing that made me happiest.

And then

If it has metastasized to the lymph nodes, it will be stage 4 at that point.

I had been so happy about being able to be discharged, but suddenly I felt anxious.

And that anxiety would become a reality two months later.

I wrote about that story in another article.

Thank you for reading this far.

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