Last month, I said good-bye to a part of me.
An important part. A part that had been with me my whole life.
It wasn't a sad good-bye, but one that I knew would be good for me and make my life better.
I said good-bye to my gall bladder.
For 20 years whenever I had stomach pains I thought I had a corn allergy, when, in fact, it was those nasty gall stones.
My hospital stay was only about seven hours. But even in that short time-span -- and being heavily sedated -- I still managed to be on green patrol.
I was hooked up to monitors with disposable electric sticky pads, had various IV tubes stuck in my hand (including one that the anesthesiologist took out and replaced because he didn't like the nurse's "attachment style") and sported more band-aids than I could keep track of. I watched in amazement as the nurses continuously reached for the trash can.
As the doctor administered the anesthesia and I began to drift off (while alerting him every few seconds that I was still awake and it wasn't time to start cutting), I worried about the disposable items that were being used on me to make me feel better.
Wait! Isn't that how our whole lives are tailored these days? How much disposable stuff do we use to make our lives easier which in turn makes us feel better?
Why did I think the hospital would be any different?
I wondered, where does all that red bucket waste go? Is there a separate landfill?
It turns out that hospitals alone generate over two million tons of medical waste annually, of which about 90% is incinerated, generating all sorts of horrible gases into the atmosphere.
Before I knew it, I was back in the recovery room telling anyone who would listen that "it hurt."
They gave me another disposable plastic bag full of saline (I assume...it was really potent saline!) and I tried hard to keep my eyes open so I could go home.
John came by to visit me, but the doctor assured him that it would be a while longer. He told me later that I said something he didn't understand about "recycled styrofoam cups."
As my stupor began to wear off, I overheard three residents sitting at the desk across from my bed.
Here is the conversation as I remember it:
(Lots of laughter)
"Oh! You're the one!"
"Yes...she's the one that's all paper conscious and sh*t."
"Wow. Wait till she sees the OR and what they throw away in there! You better get over your 'green' thing fast!"
(More laughter as the female resident hit the "green thing" resident with a folder.)
So the good news was there was a fellow greenie on the staff. The bad news was they had to have a conversation about it. How much waste was generated on account of my stupid gall stones?
With infections on the rise, I realize that everything has to be pre-packaged and sterile. I'm all for that. But there must be a better way to dispose of medical waste.
A hospital's primary function is to serve the health of the people - which includes the health of the planet.
Now when someone says to me, "You mean to say you have the gall to tell me we should worry about hospital waste, too?" I'll say, "No, I don't have any gall at all."
After all, I said good-bye to it.
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