Part 2: Surgery Day

My surgery was originally scheduled for 9:30am but then it was changed to 1:30pm.  Ugh!  A longer time to feel famished and thirsty.  But at least I didn't have to check in until later in the morning.

So we arrived at the hospital promptly at 11:00am as instructed.

An hour later (this would be a sign of things to come), they finally came to take me back to pre-op where I changed into my gown and got hooked up to IV fluids.  By then I was dehydrated (and felt hungover) so I was thankful for the fluids.  That made my pounding headache go away so I could sit and read a mindless novel by Vince Flynn.

After reading some 250 pages, they finally wheeled me back to the OR.  Yep!  By then it was 6:30pm.

ONLY FIVE HOURS LATE.

I'm not sure how long the surgery took but the first time I glanced at the clock it was 8:00pm.

Oh Lawd!  I was hurtin'.  That gas pain was terrible!  Personally, I think they could have done a better job squishing all that gas out before closing up my incisions.  But what do I know?  I'm not a surgeon.  My belly felt like a brick wall and I looked pregnant.

I stayed in the PACU (post-anesthesia care unit) for about 2 hours before they took me up to my room where my mom & BFF were waiting for me.

All I remember about being in the PACU is that I got in trouble for scratching my face.  My nurse, a man, got right in my face and said, "YOU ARE GOING TO HURT YOURSELF.  Scratch with your blanket, not your fingernails."  Umm okay.  Sorry dude.  I was kinda out of it.

While my nurse was wheeling me from the PACU to my room he said, "I saw you in pre-op and I wouldv'e never guessed you were a patient.  You're so pretty and skinny.  You were walking around and reading a book instead of laying on your bed, so I assumed you were the patient's family member."  Hmm, I guess the hospital gown I was wearing didn't give it away....   (but that was a sweet thing to say).

Speaking of "skinny," they weighed me in pre-op and I was 180lbs exactly.  That's not skinny when you're 5 ft 2...

So, he got me to my room and thankfully, it was late, so my mom and BFF didn't stay long.  I just wanted to be by myself because I was in pain and didn't feel like putting on a brave face for everyone else.

During the night, I only slept in one hour increments.  The pain would wake me up and then I'd decide to pee.  Every trip to the bathroom was a big production.  Before sitting up, I had to pull those massaging things off my calves.  Then, I got up, unplugged my IV pole, pulled my PCA line off and wrapped it around the IV pole, and drug the damn thing to the bathroom.  And, why, might I ask, am I ALWAYS the person that gets the shitty grocery cart that has a messed up wheel?  This dubious honor apparently applies to IV poles as well because every surgery I have ever had, I've gotten the IV pole that doesn't want to roll.  I nearly pulled it on top of me more than once.  My IV pole had six wheels and I'm positive at least two did not work AT ALL.

Anywho.

Around 4:00am my nurse came into the room and caught me in the bathroom.  She was like, "What are you doing??!"

Me, "Going pee.....?"  (Was it a trick question?).

I got scolded for getting up alone and for not measuring my pee pee.  Sorry!

And well, since I was already out of bed, she decided it was time to start walking.  Yep, at 4 in the freaking morning.

So we did a few laps around the unit.  She had me step on a scale.  187!  What the EFF??????

Seven pounds of fluid?  Are you kidding me?  That woke me right up.