Well hello there blogland. I've been away recovering for the last (almost) week. I had grand visions of blogging the process, but narcotics can really wipe a girl out. Today is my first day without any pain medication, but I still have at least one more week of extremely limited physical activity--so I should be able to catch up with the writing.
Where to begin... I suppose, where we left off. (I want to get this all down, so I may breeze through some of it without much effort at it becoming a brilliant writing piece.)
Tuesday, I started getting nervous. My brain started doing the whole, "Wtf are you doing?" dance. It said, "Technically, this surgery is all elective. Are you nuts?" I had to do a lot of reminding myself that the surgery was going to help my future tremendously, that it was necessary for the life I want. So I got up Wednesday morning, and we headed to the hospital.
I checked in at 5:57am, and the receptionist gave me a number and told me to sit and wait. 45 minutes later, we were the only ones left waiting, and she asked, "Didn't anyone ever take you to registration?" It turns out the staff got locked out, then the system crashed and had to be restarted, they were having "wacky Wednesday," and I got lost somewhere in the mix. Fantastic. I went to my little room, changed, and hopped in bed.
The weirdest thing about being prepped for surgery was the number of people all around me at the same time. There were three nurses hooking me up, asking me questions, etc. It was like a little dance, and it kept me busy. Dr. Amazing stopped by to see how I was doing and go over the plan. Then off he went to change. Dr. Dimples came next to review his part. Done and done.
You know how on medical shows, they label "this leg" and "not this leg?" Well, for noses, they slap on a removable tattoo. Dr. Resident initials it, and you're good to go. Funny.
Next came Dr. Sleepytime (the anesthesiologist). I hit the jackpot. I told him right away that I'm a professional singer, and he handled it in the most amazing way possible. First of all, he let me know that he's been doing his job for 27 years (jackpot). He let let me know that in all honesty, his asst. is one of the only people he'd let intubate him if needed. He then reviewed for me, in great detail, all of the things he would do to be extra careful, and he completely reassured me. I'm not sure if this is standard, but he even checked back after the surgery to let me know that the intubation couldn't have gone more perfectly and to see how I was feeling.
When it was time for them to take me to surgery, I started to panic a little. Ok, I was totally freaking out--airplane style. And then, about 30 seconds into our roll down the hall, I was physically unable to panic anymore. "You started my IV, didn't you?" Yep, they had.
The O.R. was freezing. I know it's supposed to get hot under the lights, but if I were a surgeon, I'd be cutting zig zag incisions my hands would be trembling so much. In fact, I was trembling. Not because I was nervous anymore, but just because I was cold, and my body wouldn't stop. Again, there were people working all around me. They put warming blankets on me, and it felt like there were cushy items being placed in all the open areas around me until I was surrounded by a sleeping bag of warmth. I remember being asked if I was comfortable, and then nothing...
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