No, that’s not me after surgery. That’s me, at home, reading Jilbur and Mindy’s posts and laughing so hard my stitches threaten to let go. *wiping tears*
Tis true! I’m home! And I owe my girlfriends many thanks and trinkets of appreciation, for not only did they hold down the fort and make me sound ever so much more heroic than I actually am, but they also had a care package waiting for me upon my return home (damn, they work fast!) and I am just about the luckiest uterus-less lady in the world, I think. So there. If you simply must have all your reproductive organs ripped out, this is definitely the way to have it done. So, first: a round of applause for Mindy and Jilbur, please!! Yeah!
Next: I am still a bit woozy and whiney, so I will regale you only with a few pertinent highlights for now, and save the rest for a later time, I think. But you’ve all been so wonderful to hang about and wait for updates, I have to share just a little bit….
1) I actually had an argument with one of the intake nurses, while in pre-op, because she wanted me to sign a “sterilization authorization” release. Not a big deal, right? Except that my last surgery was an endometrial ablation and tubal ligation (say it five times fast). In other words, I’ve already been sterilized. She still wanted me to sign the form. I felt rather strongly that this is how people end up leaving the hospital with the wrong foot missing. We were at an impasse, and finally we were saved by a smarter nurse (and I didn’t have to sign).
2) My anesthesiologist? So cute! I wanted to pinch him. All over. He wanted to talk about my nausea tendencies after surgery… I wanted to squeeeeeeeze him. My friend who was with me on surgery day asked me if I thought I’d seen a wedding ring, and I replied that I hadn’t noticed, but that after the guy knocks me out and watches them pull out several misbehaving organs, it seeemed doubtful that a date would be in our future. Alas.
3) I remember NOTHING from post-op other than my doctor about an inch from my face saying very slowly “NO CANCER” (that was at my request), and a lot of “9, 9, 9!” (They ask you to rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10, and apparently I wasn’t all that happy with the morphine to begin with.)
4) The hospital where I had my surgery has the nicest nursing staff in the world, and the worst food. To wit: one nurse, after waking me out of a sound sleep in the middle of the night because she had to take my vitals, gave me a back rub (a good one, too!) to help me get back to sleep. However, the three identical “clear liquid” trays I was served (despite Mindy’s sound advice, it took me a while to get those toots going) were uniformly frightening. Chicken broth or beef broth… didn’t matter… they were both just dirty-looking salty water. And yellow jello??? Who eats yellow jello? And once I’d graduated to solid food… well… I wished I hadn’t. Ick.
5) There is no hormone patch in the world that will stop your emotions from taking a roller coaster ride. What Jilbur did not tell you about my first trek on two feet was that they got me up and I started to sob, and continued to do so until they put me back to bed. I have no idea why. And the two nurses walking me acted like it was perfectly normal.
6) My doctor, the one who had the habit of forgetting who I was or why I was there? Will now be granted sainthood. She was supposed to come by around 5 last night to discharge me… and as things usually go, it got later and later and now there was a question of who would come get me and when, and she was still willing to discharge me if I could make arrangements, but she discovered that my prescriptions needed to be filled that night because the floor nurses wouldn’t be allowed to give me enough medicine to last til the next day. I then discovered that I hadn’t brought my wallet, and the prospect of having to send a friend to fill a prescription for me when it was now getting to be quite late and everything… well… I may have gotten a little frantic. My doctor patted my arm, told me to sit tight, and said she’d be right back. She returned with my prescriptions. Which she’d just driven to the pharmacy to fill, and paid for herself. She told me to pay her back at my post-op appointment but not to worry my head about it. Nice, huh?
Alright, that is all for now, as I am still quite tired and cranky and drugged. I am soooooo glad to be home in my own bed. And I am sending out huge gigantic thank-yous to Mindy and Jilbur for being such amazing hostesses in my absence… when I am no longer loopy I will come up with a more appropriate thank-you, but for right now you’ll just have to settle for a teary “I LOOOOOOVE YOU GUUUUYS!!!”