Today's chai was forbidden as I was not allowed food nor drink before my surgery. I didn't eat for almost 24 hours and I thought I might die. I hope I don't have to do that again in a hurry. I really like food. And lattes.
Today I went in for my tubal ligation. Good times. I feel bloated and tired and pretty much like crap even after sleeping four hours this evening. However, emotionally, I feel great. I had a moment of "Am I 100% sure about this, really?" just before they were putting me under and briefly wondered how irritated they would be if I freaked out on the operating table, but then I thought...should I go completely mental and fall in love with someone who doesn't already have two kids to add to my current two kids and I want to have another baby at the age of 45, I will harvest some eggies and get a turkey baster. I still have all my parts, they just aren't connected to each other anymore. On the other hand, the likelihood of that happening is nil. So I'm good.
Going to the hospital, even for a minor surgery like this, is a little nerve-wracking. I keep telling my kids that I'm a grown up that can handle the adult world, but I often feel overwhelmed when faced with adult stuff. I hate forms and info-gathering and info booklets and I'm always worried I'm going to miss some vital information and not be prepared and be turned away at the door after all this prep. Apparently, I''m pretty good at being prepared, I had everything I needed and I was not turned away. I registered and waited for my name to be called. I left my phone off at home (and suffered withdrawal the entire time) and sat reading my book for a long time before I was called in to start my IV. Gross. Definitely hurt more than your average blood collecting needle. My nurse was happy with my veiny hands, at least someone likes them. Useful after all.
Then it was back to waiting again, this time with my handy drip on wheels. I especially loved my paper slippers, I felt like I was getting real surgery in a real hospital. Someone pushing a bed down the hall called my name and asked me to follow her. Mutli-tasking, good stuff. I went down with her into the restricted area to another...waiting room. Balls. Let's get on with this! So many waiting rooms. Thankfully this was not much of a wait and the same nurse came to collect me and take me to the operating room, which was every bit as bright and cold as you can imagine. It did not have the softly lit ambiance of an operating room from Grey's Anatomy, I can tell you that, but we all know that is just so they can talk about their sex lives and not have to really see each other in too much cringe-worthy detail, plus their skin looks a lot nicer under those less harsh lights of TVLand.
Moving on. The attending put a warm blanket on me, which was nice because it really was freezing in that room. My nurse asked my name and what procedure I was having done and told me my doctor would ask me the same difficult questions before she began the surgery, so best to be prepared and do some practice tests first. After all, you never know when I might forget my name or why I was there. My anesthesiologist came in and I recognized him from when he did my epidural for Anna and I told him so. He said, "Oh that's great! Did it work?"
"No, but I won't hold that against you. Just make sure it works today and we can be friends."
I started to get a little nervous when the attending brought the stirrups out and attached them to my bed. I thought they were going in through my stomach, why do we need those? And then I realized, I just didn't give a shit. And the drugs have kicked in people!! It was about that time the anesthesiologist said I would start feeling sleepy.
And then I woke up.
The end.
-Megs
P.S.
Just kidding. I woke up and felt like shit. Groggy and with a little pain at the incision point. On a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being the worst pain you have ever experienced, what are you? About a three. Okay, yeah, getting to four. And now it's five. Plus I feel like I'm going to vomit. And I need to pee. More drugs and I felt better. Then I started shaking, which was fun but it soon passed. On a scale of one to ten, how do you feel? About a three. Good. I still need to pee. And then I fell asleep. And then I woke up and felt fan-fucking-tastic. And then I fell asleep and woke up feeling like shit. That was about the time they said I could get dressed and go home with my mummy who was waiting outside to pick me up. Went home, ate three wraps of different varieties, some yogurt and some pudding. Then I read that I should have started eating again by ingesting liquids (see what I mean about not reading everything and missing info). Went to bed and slept for four hours. Have now been up for three and been writing to various peeps about my fabulous day and now here I am.
Overheard this while in recovery:
"Okay sir, on a scale of one to ten, what is your pain at?"
"About an eight."
"Eight? Really? Because, like, ten is like being hit by a truck."
"Oh. yeah, I don't feel that bad. Maybe a six."
For whatever reason I thought this was HILARIOUS.
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