Early yesterday morning Jack and I showed up at UVRMC to check in for my surgery (laparoscopic fulguration, to be exact). My doctors told me it was the next step in figuring out why I can't have kids. And what a step it was! I was nervous, but glad it was me and not Jack. He told me yesterday that he would choose to die rather than have a urinary catheter placed. I guess lots of guys may side with him on that one. And he even got freaked out when the nurse put an IV in my arm. It's good he wasn't the one going under the knife.
But I can't say Jack didn't enjoy the chance to be in a hospital. Once the nurse left us in our same day surgery room, waiting for me to be taken to the OR, Jack was touching and trying out everything from the assortment of needles to the hand sanitizer. He even had his hands on the sharps container, but once I told him that was where they put all the bloody needles he was done exploring that item. It was good, though - helped keep my mind off the fact that doctors were about to cut me open!
So they finally took me into surgery. The anesthesiologist asked if I wanted something to help me relax. Part of me wanted to be tough, but a bigger part of me wanted to be calm. So I opted for the med. I was out before they even did the anesthesia (I know this only because they had to wake me up to make me take some deep breaths of that special gas). And then the next thing I knew, I was lying very comfortably in the PACU. I didn't even want to move. The nurse asked how I was, and I could barely muster the word, "fine." I just wanted to lie there forever.
They finally brought me back to a patient room, and then Jack came in. He gave me the good knews, that the surgery went well. I guess I already knew it had gone well enough - I didn't have a colostomy, I wasn't awake for the surgery, and I was still alive! The doctor did find and remove some endometriosis, a cyst, and a lot of scar tissue from my appendectomy 14 years ago. So then I spent about an hour and a half recovering and waking up. I guess I looked healthy enough, because Jack was taking my oxygen monitor off and trying it out on his own finger. :) You can't say the boy isn't curious. So around noon they kicked me out, and it seemed crazy to me. I could barely walk, and they were kicking me to the curb! But I guess they know what they're doing, because I did make it home and into my own bed. Thank goodness for Percocet.
The past two days have been filled with sleeping, reading In Style magazine, watching Stomp the Yard, and did I mention sleeping? I slept for about 18 of the 20 hours after getting home. But I did learn that Dawson's Creek is on at 3 o'clock in the morning. I guess you can use a little Dawson's Creek at any time of day (or night). Jack's been a trooper - getting water and meds for me, buying Ben and Jerry's ice cream, and even sleeping on the couch so he doesn't accidentally bump my incisions in the night. Toby, on the other hand, has no sympathy for post-op patients. Thankfully Jack saved me when that darn cat decided to attack my feet. I just don't move as nimbly as I used to.
So now I walk like a hunchback and have three small incisions on my abdomen. This too shall pass (except the scars, I guess). And hopefully it will all have been worth it - the things we'll do to have children!
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