After the picture taking was finished, I was taken up to day surgery. Here we encountered the rudest, least sensitive woman on the face of the planet. She was in charge of admitting me for the surgery. She started off angry because I didn't know that my doctor had reserved a ward room for me, and got more and more bitchy as time went on. I was a little afraid that my mom was going to go over the counter and strangle her. She is pictured behind the desk here... if you ever see her, throw something at her and tell her she is a bad person.
After we checked in, I was allowed to take one person into a separate waiting area before I was called back to my own personal surgery prep. room. While we were waiting, we heard one of the nurses yell down the hall at an unseen person "Oh, you're still alive?". Ha (stomach flip). This was met with several nervous giggles and shocked faces by those of us still waiting to go under the knife.
After I was brought back to my personal prep. room, my cousin came up to find me, and eventually was able to usher my parents into my private suite. I was briefed by the surgeon, the surgeons nurse, and the anesthesiologist.
Apparently someone who was schedule to go into surgery before me had committed the cardinal sin of eating after mid-night and had to be re-scheduled. Breathe. I was next on the chopping block. Keep breathing. Nurse Mary came to get me and walked me into the operating room. After I was situated on the table, the surgical team joked with me as much as possible and I continued to remind myself to breathe.
(awaiting surgery in my private room)
The resident anesthesiologist was given the opportunity to insert the IV. The first time didn't go so well, so the doctor told her to try again. The second one failed too, and the tears started to roll down my face. This is not a comfortable procedure. Looking over and seeing blood gushing out of your hand, is equally uncomfortable. One more try on my wrist also failed. Meanwhile, nurse Mary was stroking my hair and comforting me as best she could. The anesthesiologist, seeing how upset I was, decided it was time to insert it himself, and had no problems.
I wanted to tell the girl the only reason I was crying was because I was scared, but I didn't have a chance. They had a mask on me and were starting the anaesthetic before I knew what was happening. Nurse Mary told me to think about happy things so that I would have good dreams when I was out. I thought about my cottage, and within about 15 seconds, I was out.
Straining to focus my eyes, I could have sworn the clock on the opposite wall said it was 10:50pm. A little groggy and dazed, I wondered what the heck they did to me that took almost 10 bloody hours. This was followed immediately by the worst wave of nausea I have felt in years. After about 30 minutes, I regained the ability to focus my eyes and realized that it was really only about 3:30.
After several failed attempts to lift my arm to flag down the nurse that kept walking by, I let out a rather uncouth groan to gain her attention. She came over and asked me if I was in pain. "No", I replied, "but I do believe that I am going to throw up". She handed me a plastic kidney shaped bowl and put something into my IV.
Great, I thought, if I puke into this, it will end up all over the dressing that was applied after surgery. What a nice little mess that would make. I took a breath.
After another 15 minutes, I managed to flag down another nurse to tell her that I still felt like I was going to throw up. She went to ask a fellow nurse if I had been given anything, the nurse said no. I started having a little freak out. I said, "YES, I was", but she didn't hear me. I yelled a little louder, she finally acknowledged my reply and asked another nurse who backed up my statement.
She pumped more junk into my IV anyway.
At about 4pm, they decided that I was stable enough to be moved up to my ward. Ever so slowly, I was wheeled from the 5th floor to the 16th floor. My curiosity was momentarily aroused when I saw two police officers guarding the door of the room next to mine. I still don't know why they were there.
Adam, arrived shortly after I was wheeled into my room. He was followed by my parents, and Kyle. I'm sure it was a welcoming site, watching me gag like mad as I was moved from one bed to another. However, they assured me that I looked far better than they had expected me to.
(immediately after being moved)
(Kyle and Adam, shortly after surgery)
(My parents and me)
The remainder of my day was spent drifting in and out of sleep.
(Emptying my drainage bags)
(My drainage tubes)