Post-Op

My mom came down to be with me and help me with the midgets while I had surgery. We were up at 3:30 in the morning on Friday and out the door by 4:30. A couple waiting rooms and a rack of paperwork later, I was leaving my bag with her and filing behind seven other people headed into the patient prep area. They sat us each in our individually curtained-off areas, confirmed all the pre-op information they had gathered the day before, and distributed the standard unis, complete with fuzzy bottom-grip slipper socks. I was asked to disrobe and put all my clothes in the blue bag I was given - a sort of "thank you for choosing Roosevelt Hospital" type duffle - and once I had done so, my mom was brought in to share some final moments with me before I was wheeled back to surgery.

I purposely disregarded the implication.

My sister called to pray with me and then after a few minutes, the eight patients were all rounded up, asked to send our family members off into the morning and follow the bowlegged Jamaican guy through the silver double doors. A cute Hispanic guy chatted me up, telling me about his hernia while assuring me that everything with my procedure would be alright. Guess I wasn't doing as good a job hiding my apprehension as I thought. I was taken to my bed and left to lie there until the anesthesiologist assigned to me came to retrieve me. He did so with releases in hand for me to sign off on. I took the pen along with a deep breath that gave way to tears as I suddenly wished more than ever before that my mother were there. It only got worse when they rolled my bed to the operating room I was assigned to, parked the bed outside the door and asked me to WALK through the OR doors. Never in all my life have I heard of anyone WALKING into their procedure.... the last thing I remember was crying my eyes out as I laid back on the table, wondering if I had hugged my mom tight enough for all the years I might miss if I didn't come back.... had I hugged my kids long enough. Did my friends know how much I love them? But the next thing I knew, I was struggling to open my eyes in some random corner, being debriefed as to how everything went, as if I could understand a damn thing being said with all the dope running through my veins. What I did understand was "you're gonna be okay" and "we're gonna go get your mom".... that's all I really wanted to hear anyway.

A while later, after I had been taken to my room, I broke down telling my mom how alone and terrified I felt walking into that operating room. There is nothing like looking around and seeing nothing but cold steel, lights and straps, a table with outstretched arms just waiting for you to sacrifice yourself to it and there's no one there to hold your hand. I hope I never have to go through that again. I don't wish that feeling on anybody.

Three days later I was home, glad my mother is as anal as she is about everything. My house was in impeccable condition LOL. She did her best to make me comfortable despite her own discomfort, running around so much in the time I was gone. I made sure the midgets looked out as much for her as they did for me. I think we both need this time off.

In the end, all is well and I just wanted to update my blog to that effect. I did have to lose an ovary in the process, which wasn't part of the plan, but it was necessary. My hope is that recovery will continue on the speedy path its started to take and that I'll be that much better on the other side of it. Please continue to pray for me and the family while we move toward normalcy and please know I've got plenty more to say about this experience, so stick around...