I was talking with someone Sunday about possibly doing something tomorrow (Tuesday). I said I could not, "I'm getting my battery changed." They looked at me a little quizzically - as though asking 'why would that take all day?'
"Oh, whoops." I was not used to having to talk about my medical stuff but there was no way out of it this time.
"I mean the battery for my brain implant."
It was nice that Mike* (pseudonym) and I knew each other enough that I did not have to make the long drawn out explanation of what an implant was, why I had it, and all that entails. As those with chronic pain it is not that often that we can say trigeminal neuralgia, RSD, even fibromyalgia (a little more well-known) or other pain names without having to go into what are sometimes, or at least feel like, excruciatingly long and detailed explanations. (Although I will in a future post)
The batteries usually last about 5-7 years but mine has been in for 10. The last time it was changed, and my memory may be a little off but not by much, despite having to go to the OR, for the sterility of the room, I stayed in my street clothes. I walked to the room, hopped on the table, Dr. Barolat gave me a shot of novacaine to numb the area, he popped out the old battery, popped in the new, sewed me up and I hopped back down off the table.
Not so this time. I had to get anaesthesia clearance, and cardiology clearance, and blood work, and x-rays. Tomorrow they will put in an IV and hook me up to monitors. An anaesthesiologist will be standing by 'just in case'.
The short procedure does not make me nervous or anxious. All this rigamarole surrounding it is what has me eating antacids. I kept saying to everyone I had to talk with "But it is just a shot of novacaine for goodness sakes!"
Writing has never been cathartic for me but writing this has made me feel a little better about tomorrow.
Talk to you later, new battery and all. ((*_*))