surgery post – finallyPosted: March 13, 2008
What? Y’all haven’t been on the edge of your collective seats – eagerly awaiting the story of my surgery? Well, what have you been doing then?
Before you get all excited, let’s keep in mind that this really all turned out to be no big deal. I was far more apprehensive about the HSG, which, you’ll remember, all turned out fine. I was sort of generally apprehensive about general anthesisia, which was a whole new ball o’ wax for me (Let’s revisit here that the most invasive medical procedure I’ve ever had, prior to ttc, was getting a tooth filled without anethesisa. By my uncle who told bad jokes and played Aretha Franklin the whole time.) but I was pretty chill about the whole thing and, frankly, looking forward to a day off work. So all that is to say, don’t be mad if this story lacks some particular something…. like a plot.
Anyway. Cho-girl and I arrived bright and early and I filled out a mess of paper work (all of which I had already filled out at the pre-op the week before) while she reviewed her firm instructions to call 1. my mother 2. work 3. the other building of work to tell them how it all went down. (N.B. – these instructions were not from me.) I ended up sitting on the floor, because some folks took my seat while I was up passing back my ever-tedious paperwork. But that’s ok – I like the floor. So we hung out, talking about nothing and then an unseen some one called my name. It was not god (there’s not near death experiences in this story, so if you’re looking for that you’d better quit right now). It was a nurse, calling from a *whole other waiting room*! Crazy. There was a section with more chairs – enough for me! – and the receptionist had been to busy with the aforementioned ever-tedious paperwork to tell us. Or she was too moody.
So the nice nurse took me back and cho-girl moved into the other, new waiting room, because it had magazines (although I had stocked her with books, don’t you worry). The nice nurse (let’s take moment here to recognize that I should have done something to make me remember everyone’s names – they were all so great and I cannot even give them proper credit here) put in an IV (new experience # 33 million) and gave me a very nice green cap and asked me what drugs I am allergic to. Then she left me alone to change into my nice gown and little brown socks (new experience # 34 million). About 50-thousand other people came back to ask me what drugs I am allergic to after my original nice nurse. This seems to be the ambulatory surgery version of asking what my birthday is, which is the pick-up line at the RE’s office. In the midst of these 56-thousand people was the anesthesiologist resident, who looked 12. I swear. 12. So she did her little anesthesia pep-talk and then more people asked me what I was allergic to and my doctor came back and was peppy, too, and we were all filled with pep, except I was also really hungry and pretty thirsty, so I think the 58-million folks were slightly peppier than me, because they had eaten nice breakfasts and probably had Teh Coffeez.
Then they brought cho-girl back and we sat there for a smidge and then they had me walk to the OR. Because I am “young and healthy,” as they kept telling me. I asked if I’d get a ride if I were old and infirm. They said no. It was called ambulatory surgery for a reason. They were funny. And by they, I mean all the 63-million folks who came in and did shit to me. And by funny, I mean so nice. Really, if I could remember their names, I would make a whole post for them: a list of their names with the title “So Nice” so that when they google themselves they would get to see it and feel good. Oh, right, but where was I? Oh, yes, being young and healthy and perambulating back to the OR. Which was freezing. Which I commented on and so they gave me not just one but two warm blankets. I tell you, I could get used to this warm blanket thing. It was very, very white, in addition to very cold, and the people buzzed around sort of quietly doing their thing and the 12 year-old anesthesiologist talked to me very, very quietly as she hooked me up to all the monitors, explaining what each sensor did. I *love* that shit. And then I looked at the clock across the room and up at the lights while she told me to think of some “nice dreams” to have and then I woke up in another room.
Ok, so here’s the one sort of bad part. I felt like crap right when I woke up. Really crap. Confused and then nauseous and crampy. And I kind of wanted to cry, which, you’ll remember is not something I’m a big fan of. All alone, my tiny self in a hospital gown….. Crying yet? Well, quit, because yet another very nice nurse put her hand on my arm and asked how I was and shot me up with pain meds and anti-nausea meds and after another minute or two of misery, I was ok. Ok enough to be excited that they were going to wheel me into the other recovery room; apparently post surgery, I am no longer “young and healthy” enough to walk. Heh. So the nice nurse number two wheeled me to a curtained off lazy-boy recliner (hospital style, you know) and went to fetch cho-girl. And I was fine. The nice nurse (#2) gave me some ginger ale and animal cookies and let me manipulate her into taking me out to the car in a wheel chair (new experience #39 million!) and cho-girl took me home.
To the couch, where I lay in repose for the rest of the day. Ahhhhh…. it was like a sick day only I felt fine. We had coffee and expensive sandwiches and my mama came over and then I napped off and on. An old friend came by mid-afternoon to bring me some arnica and fancy ginger beer and the the ever-vigilant LB came by in the evening after work, so I was well tended. And so fine. I mean, really – I was tired after about 6 o’clock, but really I felt so ok.
So, to summarize: nice folks, no more Polly (R.I.P.), day off of work. Western Medicine – 1, me – 1. We’re all winners here in Starr Hill.
There are no pictures up yet, because I am not the proud owner of a scanner. But when they are ready, oh internets, you’ll be the first to know. I swear.