So...now that the surgery has come and gone...I have the following thoughts:
1) Was that REALLY necessary for me to feel better? Because right now...I feel worse.
2) I have a new found respect for women that have had a C-Section.
3) I'm just really not a fan of pain killers. Maybe this has a direct cause on #1.
So...Tuesday morning...pretty much all went well. I got up early, drank coffee, and read for a while on the balcony. Then I showered, and hung out for a bit, and then headed to the hospital. On the way to the hospital, I got a call saying that my Dr. was actually ahead of schedule, and could I come now. Well...I'm already on my way...will that work? Perfect!
So I get to the hospital, which is an indefinite saga of "hurry up and wait." But I finally get to pre-op...and my mom is hanging out with me. I think I see every Dr. and nurse that is working in the hospital that day...and ALL of them ask the same questions, all of them ask me how to spell my name, and what my birthday is. The only problem anyone has is the ring in my tragus. And really...it's only the head nurse that has a problem with it. She thinks it needs to be taken out...no one else has said anything about it. When all is said and done...it never got taken out...which is good...because there's a good chance it never would have been put back in.
After more waiting...the anesthesiologist comes in and says "it's time to go!" And we start sprinting to the OR. I'm not really sure what the hurry is...but then again...I really don't have to do anything but sleep.
I wake...very briefly...and use the term "wake" quite loosely...because I really don't remember much, except the nurse telling me that if I was in pain, I could push the magic little button...and it would give me drugs. I grew to love and hate the magic button.
So they finally get me to my room, and my parents arrive a few minutes later. Still...I don't remember much. I have no idea what time it is. All I know is that I'm being told that the surgery went really well. Well...awesome...as I push the magic little button again.
For the next few hours, I'm in and out of consciousness. Let's say mainly out. Because I really don't remember much. I know that I was told that I needed to keep drinking...and they kept asking me if I had farted yet. Seriously...funniest question ever...and the KEEP ASKING IT!! Well...the answer was no...but I finally was able to get up...briefly...and then went straight back to bed.
Fortunately for me...my momma loves me...and was willing to stay in the hospital with me that night...which for the most part was a good thing. We'll get to the not so good part in a bit.
The nurse I had that night was also awesome. She was really helpful to mom, and was really supportive to both of us the entire night. So...around 2am...I decide it's time to take a walk. Yeah...because THAT was a good idea. Let's just say...it wasn't such a good idea...and I ended up throwing everything up that went in...and then some. Still not sure where everything came from. But I felt much better after that, and was able to get some decent sleep.
Around 5...the Drs. started making the rounds...one med student had been in and out all night. Oh wait...I forgot the on-call surgeon...who...after he came in the second time...which I got to call him a liar...because he told me he wouldn't see me again...then he came back to change my dressing...then I looked over at my mom and asked if the Dr. looked 12 to her as well. I didn't have my glasses on...and he definitely looked 12 to me. Anyway...the med student came in around 5:30...and then prepped me for the rounds to come in later. So around 7:30...my room was invaded by about 10 med students, residents, etc...which the resident that worked on my surgery is totally not a morning person. But they all checked me out...assured me that I could still go home that day...and I went back to sleep.
Oh...mom not so helpful. So...granted...she did this really awesome thing of staying with me while I was in the hospital. But around 4am...I had rolled over and pulled on my IV line...which I yelled about...and was practically in tears...and I called for her to help...and she was so out of it from being asleep that she couldn't figure out what I needed...and was getting annoyed that I had woken her up. Oh well...she gets a pass I suppose.
So dad finally shows up about mid-morning...and he and I go for a walk. As I reach the circle they told us to walk around...there is an older woman who is probably in her 70's...who is looking about as perky as I am...so I ask her "want to race?" She starts smiling. We both continue to hobble around the circle. At least I made an old woman laugh.
So the day continues...and I sleep a lot. And get sick a little more. And get checked out by more Doctors, and more nurses...and then eat some real food. Then hang out some more...and then get discharged.
We make it home without much problem...and I hobble to the couch...and promptly pass out again.
I ended up sleeping most of the day yesterday...but actually ate a bit of real food. Mom and dad keep telling me I need to get up and walk, and drink more water. And I'm trying...but good grief...when it's 95 degrees in the hallway...and I feel like I'm going to pass out...I really don't feel like taking another lap. But they're making me.
Today has been better. I haven't slept nearly as much...just a couple of naps...and we went for a walk of 5 whole blocks. As dad has said, I wasn't breaking any land speed records...but I'm not doing too shabby. Plus...I've also gotten to watch them clean my apartment this afternoon. As my sister-in-law told me...get them to do as much as you can while you can...this doesn't last forever.
But now that I'm starting to feel a little better...I'm also starting to get a little antsy. But as soon as that creeps up...I move...and I remember why I'm supposed to be taking it easy for now...
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