Surgery

I reported for surgery at 8:30 on a Monday morning. I had to fast, starting at midnight, including NO COFFEE. That was like adding insult to injury.

I sat on the couch and told my husband “I changed my mind. I don’t WANNA” but we went on over anyway.

I had two pieces of paper given to me at the same time by the same person, the previous week. One of them said to report to the third floor. It was highlighted by hand. The other said to report to the first floor. It was underlined by hand. So we left a bit early and reported to the third floor (which is street level.) They called someone, (probably made sure I already paid my copay)  and sent us to the first floor.

Some guy pushing something or other got into the elevator with us. After a while, he said “do you like movies?” We nodded, and I thought “oh great, conversation, bah.” He went on “I heard some actress stabbed her husband” and I thought “I don’t need to hear this” but we smiled politely. He said her name was “Reese… um… Reese…” I kept quiet for a minute but no one said anything and he kept saying “Reese…”

As the elevator opened on the first floor I finally said “Witherspoon?” and he looked at me, and said “No with a knife.”

I almost slugged him but I pulled back, laughing. I think he could tell though.

How random is that? I walked into the waiting area for my surgery still laughing. Which I assume is not that normal.

Some poor girl was asleep in a chair. When she woke up she said she had been there since 5am. I hoped we would not wait that long. Soon though they moved us to a booth, where I sat in a chair that looked more comfy than it was, after changing into their gowns and trick “compression socks”.

A nurse asked me a bunch of all the same questions, including what procedure was I there for. Then she marked my right breast with an “X” and threw out the pen. (My husband pulled it out later and I’m using it to note when I take my meds and empty my drain. Don’t worry, it was sitting on top of clean trash.)

We were glad she marked the breast, as we had been tempted to do it, and I thought my husband might try to follow me to surgery to make sure. She marked it high up, and the mark is still visible.

The nurse left us and we sat there until around 11. Then they took me by wheelchair  to “pre-op” where I laid on a gurney. A few people came and talked to me, including the anethesiologist, and the surgeon. The surgeon walked into the room and stood there, and I could recognize her even without my glasses. I peered at her and she said “oh that *is* you” and I said the same. She talked to me a bit and even gave me a hug.

The anesthesiologist was nice, too, and made me feel reassured.

Finally they wheeled me around a bunch of hallways (due to some construction, they had to go the long way round.) Then they used some tricky thing that blows up like a raft, and moved me over to the operating table. I feel sure the anesthesiologist had something to say at that point but I can’t remember it….

Next thing I knew I was in a recovery room. My legs kept shivering violently.

Someone else in the recovery room woke up yelling “it hurts, it hurts, oh ow ow ow it hurts.” People gathered around him and he kept yelling. After a while I asked someone “I didn’t do that when I was waking up, did I?” She assured me that I did not, and said it was uncommon.

After a while there, they wheeled me to my room. Right outside my room, I saw my husband standing there. I looked at him and said “hey buddy.” (This is our term of endearment.)

The look of relief and love on his face in that moment, I will never forget.