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My sports headphones - the attraction in the operating theatre

28.3.2019

Translation: machine translated

I was skiing. I broke my hand in the process. It's a hair-raising experience, if I had any. But now I have three wires in my left hand. And sports headphones that helped me through the operation.

Before we go into the operating theatre, here is a brief reminder of the background:

Background information
Piste good. Hand broken.
by Patrick Bardelli

"Those are fancy headphones"

"Would you like to listen to music to distract yourself? I'm lying in the operating theatre at Bruderholz Cantonal Hospital waiting for the surgeon to cut my hand open. There's a hustle and bustle around me. The senior doctor, assistant doctor, two anaesthetists and several nurses are doing their work. I'm not sure if I've counted correctly. As a patient, you're a little cognitively impaired just before an operation. That's why I don't immediately answer the nice anaesthetist's question about whether I want to listen to music. So she repeats the question. Yes, I would like to. "Those are some fancy headphones you've got there," she says, looking at my Bose "SoundSportFree". Yes, I even advertise these sports headphones in the operating theatre. They are the best. From the fit to the sound and the case to the battery life, everything is just right for me as an amateur sportsman. For a moment, a small cluster of interested people forms to inspect the headphones.

Headphones

Bose SoundSport Free

5 h, Wireless

The second anaesthetist asks me for my playlist for the upcoming operation and whether I would like something to calm me down. Anaesthetists, the keepers of hellishly horny substances. But I decline with thanks and opt for Rammstein. There's another hellishly awesome concert by the Germans from 2017 in Paris on Spotify. Besides, I'm not in the mood for surgery today. So that fits.

Just before the operation, you wonder where the beard ends and the chest hair begins.

I don't feel like it

Apropos "Keine Lust" by Rammstein. Among other things, it says:

I'll just stay lying down
And again I count the flies
I touch myself listlessly and soon realise
I've been cold for a long time, so cold
I'm cold, so cold, I'm cold

My left arm is a lifeless piece of flesh. Meanwhile, the operation has begun. The surgeon cuts and pulls the wires into my hand. I feel absolutely no pain, but it jerks my shoulder. He hammers in between. It goes clack clack clack several times. And I can also hear the surgeon pinching off the wires with the pliers. As I said, my arm is in a deep sleep and yet I "feel" that something is entering my body that has no business being there. It's a bit creepy. I can't describe it any better.

"Only say it if you want something to calm you down." The anaesthetist speaks again. I look at the monitor: my pulse is just under 70 beats per minute. Almost relaxed, despite the Rammstein in my ears. But my blood pressure is elevated. Of course, the doctor hasn't missed it either. "Do you want something?" he repeats. I almost reply with: "Yes, super skunk for 50 please". But then I decide to leave it at that and decide to get through the last few minutes of the operation with as clear a head as possible. Then it's over and the operated hand is neatly wrapped up.

Thumbs up?

"Are you OK?" I ask the surgeon. Everything is fine so far, he says. Thumbs up. Only three instead of the originally planned two Kirschner wires had been "installed". Well, more is always better. The surgeon can't help but smile at my comment and simply says: "In this case, less would actually be more".

Back in the PAHoA, the Perioperative Anaesthesia Holding Area, I slowly get ready to go home. My left arm is still a lifeless sausage hanging limply beside me. I am given a sling that will support my arm for the next six to eight hours. This is how long it usually takes for the local anaesthetic to wear off. The anaesthetist tells me several times to leave my arm in the sling for this time or to guide it with my right hand. Otherwise it would fall down uncontrollably. All right, got it. I don't need any more broken bones. Then I'll be on my way home.

Thank you

There's a lot of grumbling about our healthcare system. And yes, when I think about what my wife, daughter and I pay in health insurance premiums every month, I immediately get high blood pressure again. But: going into hospital at 8 a.m., back home at 1 p.m., with a quick complex hand operation in between? Chapeau. That's something to say thank you for. So, many thanks to the whole team at Bruderholz Cantonal Hospital for their commitment! And also a big thank you to Rammstein and Bose. You made the operation more bearable for me.

And next time with "Patrick breaks something ..."

Operation successful, patient dead. Of course not. But now the arduous rehab phase begins. And I become acquainted with muscle atrophy. So quickly follow my author profile here before I completely fade away and click on the "Follow author" button in the top right-hand corner. <p

15 people like this article

Patrick Bardelli

Senior Editor

Patrick.Bardelli@digitecgalaxus.ch

From radio journalist to product tester and storyteller, jogger to gravel bike novice and fitness enthusiast with barbells and dumbbells. I'm excited to see where the journey'll take me next.

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