5 posts shown.
I honestly don't know how people deal with this stuff without losing their minds, I really don't. You see someone like brightwolf9 posting about their experience and you just think, "Yeah, that sounds about right," because life is just one long series of unexpected hurdles, isn't it? It’s like when you’re driving down a highway in Chicago and suddenly everything just goes sideways—you can't plan for it, you just have to react. And speaking of reacting, I was thinking about what Scott Allen10 mentioned earlier regarding the whole situation, and it really hits home how much we all just rely on luck sometimes. It’s exhausting, honestly. You try to follow every single rule, you stay on top of your health, maybe you even take your Synthroid exactly like the doctor told you, and then boom—life happens. It’s easy to get cynical, but I try not to. I really do. I think if we all just took a second to breathe and realize we're all in this messy boat together, things might feel a little less heavy. Anyway, I'm rambling now, my bad. Just one of those days where my brain won't stop spinning. kaže:
😁Man, you could seriously write a novel with this stuff... honestly, such an intense experience. I can't help but think that maybe everything would have been a little easier for you to swallow if you hadn't stayed so "involved" in all the details... but hey, what do I know? Everyone has a right to satisfy their curiosity, especially when it involves things like an anesthesiologist's procedures which... well, let's just say they can sometimes have some pretty unexpected side effects.
Man, I don't even know where to start with this one, but honestly, what do you guys think is actually the best way to go about it? For me, I found the whole thing pretty eye-opening, like, I walked away with a lot more insight than I expected to get, you know? 🙂 Honestly, the whole medical team was just beyond professional—like, seriously top-tier. But man, the stress is killing me... it’s that constant, obsessive need I have to feel like I’m actually in control, you know? Like, if I can just wrap my head around exactly what’s going to happen next, I might actually stay sane. But that's just how I'm wired, I guess. It’s been that way my entire life, in basically every single thing I do :S
I was just sitting here thinking about how much everything changes, you know? Like, one day you’re cruising along, thinking you’ve got the whole thing figured out, and then suddenly life throws a curveball that makes you question every single decision you've ever made. It's wild. I was reading some of those threads earlier—shout out to brightwolf9, by the way, because your perspective on the whole situation really hit home for me—and it got me spiraling down this rabbit hole of "what ifs." It's funny how we all try to find these patterns in the chaos, right? We look for rules, we look for logic, but sometimes there isn't any. You just have to ride the wave. I mean, I’m definitely not an expert, and I probably ramble too much, but I truly believe that being honest with yourself is the only way to actually move forward. Even when it's messy. Especially when it's messy. Anyway, just a thought I had while staring at my coffee this morning. Hope everyone is hanging in there. kaže:
So, just to clear the air on this one because I feel like there’s been some confusion lately—that CO2 absorber isn't there to tell you if your tube is sitting where it should be. It’s basically just a plastic canister tucked right into the expiratory side of the breathing circuit. Its whole job is to soak up the carbon dioxide using stuff like soda lime (you know, that calcium hydroxide mix), and the only way you'll really know it's working is by watching the color change from white to purple as it gets saturated. It's a chemical indicator, not a positioning tool, so don't go relying on it for placement!
Wait, wait, hold on—are we talking about closed-loop systems here? Because if that CO2 adsorber is running while it's actually in the middle of adsorbing, I honestly had no clue the machine was smart enough to give you an automated alert like that.
I was thinking along these lines:
I can't really click through to that link properly on my end, but I think I see what you're getting at with that product shot! It looks like one of those specialized medical supplies—maybe some kind of surgical instrument or a specific piece of equipment? Honestly, looking at stuff like this always makes me go down a bit of a rabbit hole. One minute I'm just glancing at a thumbnail, and the next, I've spent twenty minutes reading the technical specs and wondering about the logistics of how they even ship these things around the country. It’s funny how much detail goes into these tiny little items, isn't it? You look at it and think, "Okay, it's just a tool," but then you realize it's part of this massive, incredibly complex web of healthcare in America. It reminds me of that time I was reading up on how hospitals manage their inventory—it’s basically like trying to run a giant warehouse in Chicago while simultaneously performing surgery. Everything has to be perfect, right when you need it. Anyway, if there was something specific about this item you wanted to chat about or if you were looking for a comparison to something else, let me know! I'm happy to geek out over the details with you.I am like, 100% positive that the anesthesiologist pulled that thing right out of her kit, but honestly, having something that shifts colors based on CO2 levels would be such a game-changer for lab work—so I figured I’d double-check if that was actually what it was.
I honestly can't even begin to wrap my head around how much things have changed lately, you know? It feels like just yesterday we were all sitting around talking about the basics, and now everything is moving at a hundred miles an hour. I was reading what Scott Allen10 was saying earlier—and I mean, I totally get where they're coming from, really I do—but there's just this underlying feeling that we're missing the forest for the trees sometimes. It’s like when you're driving down a highway in the Midwest, everything looks so flat and uniform, but then you hit one of those unexpected construction zones and suddenly the whole rhythm of your trip is thrown off. That's how this feels. We're cruising along, thinking we've got a handle on the situation, and then *bam*, a new variable pops up and we're all scrambling to adjust our expectations. I don't want to sound like a broken record, but I really think we need to slow down and actually digest what's happening instead of just reacting to the immediate noise. It's easy to get caught up in the hype or the panic, but if we take a second to breathe, maybe the path forward won't seem quite so chaotic. Anyway, just some rambling thoughts while I sip my coffee and try to make sense of it all. kaže:
Look, the standard CO2 monitoring we all use every single day can definitely give you a hint about where things stand, but honestly? It’s pretty pathetic if an anesthesiologist only realizes they aren't actually in the trachea because they finally notice the CO2 waveform disappearing on the monitor... I mean, come on. Also, just as a side note for anyone getting confused, let's be clear: the CO2 absorber and CO2 monitoring are two completely different things entirely.
Man, I honestly wouldn't have even noticed the CO2 monitoring if it wasn't for that time over at Lognecker when I saw the concentration curve spiking like crazy because the tube was actually sitting in the esophagus... you know how it goes, just sitting there with those muffled stethoscopes and trying to watch chest rise like it's some kind of high-stakes guessing game.
Scott Allen10 said:Look, if you're actually some kind of masochist, just go ahead and Google SIMV, CMV, PCV, BiPAP, AC, APRV, CPAP—with or without ASB, PEEP, whatever...
I guess I should've looked at your previous post to see if I really am a masochist, 😉but by then it was probably too late, though once I actually dive into all that stuff, would it be okay if I hit you up via DM if I run into anything confusing? 😉
Scott Allen10 said:- regarding the whole allergy situation and those allergen tests... I don't quite follow you there, but I get the impression you were basically caught in a crossfire of being overmedicated, which honestly, having way too much medicine can be just as bad as not having enough...😁
Man, I totally would have agreed with you right up until the moment I realized I actually *am* allergic to anesthetics and muscle relaxants. Once you've dealt with a hellish bout of hives from a mild anaphylactic reaction, you realize there's such a thing as too much medicine. 😉
Thank you sooooo much for taking the time out of your day to give me such thoughtful answers. 😁
Hey everyone,
I’ve been lurking here for quite a while now—honestly, at first it was just pure curiosity, but lately, it’s become more of a necessity 🙂
So, basically, I ended up needing surgery on my sinuses, specifically the paranasal ones.
The exact moment my ORLOG doctor told me that the surgery was optional (which my primary care physician had also mentioned previously) and I agreed, and then he started writing down that I was scheduled for procedures at the Mayo Clinic and that I should head to the front desk to check my appointment time... man, that feeling is priceless. There I am, staring at this paperwork, having absolutely no clue what "FESS" even means,
other than maybe some kind of sinus surgery, but I definitely knew what the abbreviation meant regarding anesthesia—endotracheal anesthesia. Total panic. I started getting these massive flashbacks of health anxiety, projecting scenarios where they wouldn't be able to intubate me, or how my blood pressure might be too high, etc. In short, I went into a state of panic equivalent to the first time I ever had to give a public presentation to people
who were complete strangers. So, anyway, I set the date, got stamped with a thousand different tests, and immediately grabbed the internal referrals...
At that point, I slowly started picking up anesthesia textbooks (Lognecker) and ENT manuals, since I decided it would probably be better for my mental state if I stopped checking the forums for a bit.
In the meantime, I had my consultation with the anesthesiologist (everything was fine up to that point), and I remembered those comments posted here 😉 about how you can—and really should—speak openly with them, tell them everything that worries you about anesthesia, and ask any questions you have. And that’s exactly what I did. 🙂 One of my questions, when the anesthesiologist looked at me with that "OMG, are you one of us or just a hypochondriac?" kind of vibe, was whether they perform this specific surgery while I'm in a hypotensive state. Toward the end of the exam, because I had three hives of unknown origin, the doctor offered
either allergy testing or some kind of "protection" before the surgery—to make sure I don't break out in a rash on the operating table, he said. And I told him, look, it doesn't matter if I get a rash, what matters is that I don't go into anaphylaxis. So, allergy testing it was.
I was relieved to find out if I was allergic before hitting the table, though the doctor performing the test was pretty skeptical about why we were doing it... thirteen stabs and a few pretty painful ones later—turns out, I am indeed allergic to almost all relaxants except Atropine, plus I'm reactive to the others, like Midazolam. Copy that report and carry it everywhere with you, and just make sure
that the anesthesiologist who is going to, you know, treat you 🙂
And, looking through Lognecker, Atropine lasts much longer than the others, and almost twice as long as what I actually need for my procedure... just let it go, rapidgull94, I told myself, and I enjoyed life until hospitalization. I eventually made it to the pre-anesthesia exam (the third one, by the way 🙂. There was this incredibly sweet anesthesiologist,
I ran into her in the hallway that day; she’s in the OR from 8 AM, and she drives every single patient back to the ICU after surgery. You can imagine how much of a hero she seemed to me in that moment. It was already late afternoon, and she looked visibly exhausted. She checked me over and gave me a brief rundown (without using any heavy medical or anesthetic jargon) of her part of the job. Then, being a bit of a jerk, I asked: "Can I ask something now 🙂" about which relaxant they'll be giving me (since I knew exactly which ones were left that I wasn't allergic to). She just said, "Anesthesia without a relaxant." My mind raced—how are they going to intubate me? Okay, fine, they can intubate me, but what if I move right at a sensitive spot during the surgery? And most importantly, who is going to anesthetize me? Well, I won't be doing it, and I'm only available on the days you guys are on the schedule. Goddamn, she really made an impression on me.
The night before the procedure and again in the morning, I was given prophylaxis consisting of Synophene and Solu-Medrol, but I didn't get any anxiolytics, sedatives, nothing. My "anxiolytic" was my own doctor, who checked in on me both the night before and the morning of. And several times after the surgery. Okay, Synophene makes you *very, very* sleepy. On the way to the OR—I asked the nurse if they had taken all my lab results...
Do you guys have the CT scans from the imaging department? Or maybe an allergy test result—wait, yeah, I have one. Just kidding. A microscope. I really want to see a microscope. Honestly, they probably wouldn't even let me, they’d just knock me out with one of those tranquilizer guns they use for cattle. So, looking at the crowd I managed to count: two scrub techs actually working, one who clearly isn't, an anesthesia tech, the lady who wheeled me from the unit, the nurse positioning me on the bed, and some gentleman who asked me to scoot over so my head would sit better on the pillow—and no, before you ask, I am not the anesthesiologist. Nobody is talking to me, but I’m just sitting here watching everyone. I’m staring at the Drager machine, too. Such an imposing piece of equipment. I’m trying to spot where the CO2 absorber canister is located, but I can't find it, which is a total letdown. On this Drager, the mask is made of this gross, brownish-translucent rubber. It's nasty. And still, absolutely nobody is addressing me.
I mean, why didn't they just look at my pre-medication records and realize, "Hey, he's not sedated yet, this would be great"? 🙂 If anyone would just say something to me. But then again, is it dangerous if I start peppering them with questions?
Then comes Nurse Brenda Jones5. She’s an anesthesia nurse/tech. A familiar face. I ask her, "Are you Nurse Brenda Jones5?" and she goes, "Yes, yes, I remember you!" Great. Maybe she’ll actually be communicative. And she was. <3. There's a pad on my foot. Is that char from the cautery? An EKG?
A pad on my chest. Okay, that's the EKG. Then a cuff on my right arm, and then a cuff on my left arm. WTF? Just in case, I guess, it's your classic blood pressure monitor. Okay, as long as Nurse Brenda Jones5 is here, I think I'll be fine.
The anesthesiologist walks in and greets me. She asks if I have any allergies to local anesthetics. I had to exercise a massive amount of self-control not to say something rude to her. I don't. But I am allergic to relaxants. "I know, I know," she says. She looks at me, looks at the mask, and starts searching for a new one. Looking for an 8mm? Probably the tube. I lift myself up off the bed and glance at the vitals monitor. Okay, which number is the BP, which is the pulse, and which is the oxygen saturation? Two numbers are slightly under a hundred, and two numbers are hovering around 150. Fuck.
To all the anesthesiologists (I hate it when I don't know their names)—is it going to pass once you knock me out? I really hope so. That is definitely not the answer I want to hear a few minutes before anesthesia.
And there we go. I'm hooked up to everything—IV lines everywhere, one tube for saline, and then Nurse Brenda Jones5 jams the Propofol syringe into my other line. Here it is. I know how long it takes to kick in, and I know plenty of people experience pain or a burning sensation. To my surprise, I didn't feel the need to watch it happen; I just lay back and waited. Someone tossed something onto my chest. I couldn't care less what it was. Was it starting to work? Did she give me a little dose just to drop my blood pressure?
I remembered reading somewhere that Propofol affects the cardiovascular system and lowers blood pressure. So, I figured my pressure was about to tank. It's taking a while, though, so I lift my head and see that the line running from the saline bag into me is cloudy. What? I say, "Nothing is happening." They swap out the saline and finally give me a decent dose. "Goodnight," says the anesthesiologist. "Grrr—thanks," I mutter. And then, a flash of panic hits me because I realized I'm under anesthesia without any relaxants, and Propofol won't stop my breathing—give me oxygen! She gently places the mask over my face; I try to take the deepest breath possible, but then I start shallow, panicked breathing. "Breathe deeply," she tells me. I take two more deep breaths. Have we flushed out the nitrogen? Now I can hold my breath until they intubate me.
Two more times—"goodnight"—"thanks," and now I'm getting dizzy. Which is exactly what we're aiming for. "Goodnight"—no response. The next thing I remember is intense... coughing, coughing. Someone is adjusting the bed. I can't see anything, I just hear and feel things. Someone holds my shoulder and—bam—back into a deep sleep.
Christ—this is like a light version of my fate... to get straight to the point—I have a few questions, mostly just out of curiosity, if anyone has the time or inclination to answer them. 🙂
So—regarding the allergy test—since I'm allergic to the aforementioned components of anesthesia—is it standard practice to write some kind of
"card" listing the substances I'm allergic to—with the doctor's name and the composition—or am I actually supposed to carry an A4 printout in my wallet?
The physician who performed my allergy test told me that it isn't even that precise anyway, since allergens are introduced under the skin, and the skin reacts to physiological saline too. In other words, it primarily reacts to the physical stimulus of the needle prick and the fluid being injected.
And then there are the mast cells... right?
I'm curious how you guys actually handle patients—from an allergy standpoint—who go into anaphylaxis right there on your table? Like, who takes over the follow-up, and what's their specialty? In my case, I was handled by a clinical pharmacologist (which, if you're reading between the lines, might give you a clue which hospital system I was at).
Also, why on earth did I get prophylaxis with Synopene and Solu-Medrol when they were running anesthesia with Propofol and Fentanyl through an oxygen tube? I'm definitely not allergic to those substances, and honestly, can you even be allergic to Propofol? Or maybe it was a reaction triggered after the Fentanyl hit? (Maybe an allergy test thing?)
Is it actually "normal" to run parallel infusions of saline or whatever else through the same IV line with two lumens?
Because when they were putting me under, they inserted a second IV line.
Does Propofol drop your blood pressure by an average of 20mmHg? Is that systolic and diastolic?
Why do they rub ointment in your eyes?
I had this pain in my lower back that lasted for three weeks after the surgery—could that be related to lying on the table for so long? Could it have been prevented by keeping my knees slightly flexed?
How do they decide on volume replacement? I ended up getting 1.5L of saline plus another 0.5L during the procedure while I was in the ICU. Is that based on estimated blood loss or just how much fluid someone should ideally drink in a day?
I haven't asked anyone yet, but what do you think—did they have my head fixed in place during the procedure, even though I didn't have any relaxants?
In endotracheal anesthesia without relaxants, since I'm breathing on my own, what role does the anesthesia machine actually play? How does it deliver the gases—is it under pressure? How do you set it up so it stays in sync with my own breathing? And what happens if my depth or frequency changes mid-way? Does that change during the anesthesia process?
My pressure stayed at 120/65 throughout the whole anesthesia—does that mean I had enough anesthetic, or...? I mean, shouldn't it fluctuate?
I saw that crazy little thing that changes color based on CO2 (to check if the tube is in the right spot)—is that a single-use thing, or do they sterilize it?
About 3 or 4 days after the anesthesia, my incision developed this little blue "spot" right at its peak. Any idea what that could be?
Thanks so much in advance for the answers 🙂 and sorry for this total life confession;S
wanderingcobra76 said:Yes, certain institutions simply won't provide those files on a CD.
They tend to store everything for a specific window of time—and once that period passes, the data is wiped from the archives.
Though... I'm not entirely sure how much sense it makes to make the trip there if their house rule is to refuse CD requests in the first place.🤷
Besides, if you’re heading in for a follow-up with a specialist at the same hospital, they should be able to access those images just fine through the hospital's internal computer system.
Well, that's the catch right there—it's not even the same facility! In the clinic where I've been seeing my specialist for years, you're looking at a two-month wait just to get an appointment.
Anyway, I actually managed to get a hold of them and had to submit a formal
request to have my scans released in a digital format. So now I'm just sitting here waiting to see if the good old prof. approves it or shuts me down. 😕
To make things even more ridiculous, I went over to a neighboring facility that very same day (well, technically, it's the "new" version of the same institution under the current management), and it was radiology again. I needed an X-ray that I had taken a few months ago (5), but apparently, it hadn't been "processed" yet. The technician lady looks at me and goes, "Oh, why didn't you say so? Just come over here and I'll give it to you right now!" She pulls up the archive number on her computer, and within three minutes, I’ve got my film in hand. 🙏
So, seriously, who's the crazy one here?
Hey everyone,
I'm starting a fresh thread here since I'm honestly not sure where else to dump this question.
So, basically, I had an MSCT done at a hospital over in Chicago, and they just handed me the results—like, physical printed cross-sections on paper. But what I actually need is the digital files (not even for my own sake, my specialist is specifically demanding them). I actually went back to the hospital to sort it out, but I didn't get any further than the lady at the front desk, who just gave me this blank stare before basically shooing me away.
What I really want to know is if someone can tell me from experience—since I totally blanked on asking my doctor—do these places actually keep those scans stored digitally?
Because honestly, if I have to, I'll sit right back down in that CT machine until I get exactly what I need. 🙄
Thanks in advance.