Monday, January 18, 2010

The surgery

I am going to try to be more diligent with this blog. especially now that I have finally had my surgery I want to use this page as my resource to record my thoughts, experiences and just whatever I feel like with regard to the surgery and anything else that may be in my head.

Let me start at the beginning. The day of.

I woke up at 4am. Well, I woke up a lot more than that but I woke up and actually got up at 4am. I had to be at the hospital at 5:30. I had my "hopeful clothes" bag packed and ready to go. Yes, hopeful clothes. Hopeful to wear underwear at some point. A comfy nightgown and pajama pants. Comfy socks. All of those things that would make the hospital experience less painful and scary and more comfortable and reassuring.

Riding with my dad was a bit of a nightmare. Our car took a trip to the shop while I was in hospital since I wouldn't be needing it so onward with Rudy the 3 of us went. By the time we got to the hospital I couldn't wait to get out. I can't even begin to describe the thoughts racing through my head and only a couple of them were about the surgery. =)

I checked in and waited. And waited some more. After 3o minutes of waiting and not wanting to leave to use the restroom I finally broke down and quickly went. Within minutes I was called back and the first thing they said was they needed a urine sample. oops.. Well no one even bothered to tell me they would want a pee sample and I couldn't help the fact I had just gone. But...alas they claimed they just needed a tad for a prego test. Ha! Me pregnant! Yeah... with a "snipped" husband, birth control pills and a serious lack of intimate activity since I was in Mexico for a week, then 4 days after i came home Jeremy had hernia surgery, the concept of being pregnant was a laughable one. I tried to explain all of this to no avail. I managed to pee, they came back with the oh so shocking news I wasn't pregnant...

On to the IV. Yah, so no one ever seems to be able to give me good IV's. I can count on one finger how many good ones I have had in the last 5 years. But I thought positively to myself. This is a center of excellence, therefore they will be excellent at IV's. I just know it. Unfortunately the power of positive thinking did not help the situation and once again, after digging in my left forearm with an 18 gauge needle and having no success the nurse assured me she would call someone. And she did. And that someone was aghast at nurse 1 for having used an 18 gauge needle. Nurse 2 used a 20 gauge and got it fast right in my hand. Ouch.

I look at the clock. It is 7am.. my 7:30 time is drawing near. My surgeon comes in and says hello. All is ready, all is a go. Finally my parents and husband get to come back. My mom squeezes my hand, my dad gives me sweet kisses on my forehead, both reassuring me everything is going to be alright. I have managed to hold it together but I can't anymore. The nurse ushers my parents out leaving Jeremy and I to ourselves for a last few moments before I go to the operating room. I start to cry. "I can't do this. I don't want to do this. This can't be the only way... I'm not ready". My husband has tears in his eyes as he too reassures me that it is good. It is what I want. "What if I die Jeremy? What if something goes wrong"? "I love you", he says.

It is time to go. They are wheeling me down the hall and I can't quit crying. I am scared. I am not ready. Can I still stop this? I have to quit crying or they won't be able to put me under. My throat is closing up. I am scared. I know this is best. All of these thoughts and more are running through my head as the doors to the operating room open. Everyone asks me how I am. Clearly I am not good. Tears are still coursing down my cheeks. I move to the operating table. The anesthesiologist looks at me, smiles. I look back, terrified. He begins pushing the plunger...

to be continued...