I may have been a little difficult Tuesday morning when I got sick of answering the same questions to 4 different people, 2 days in a row, even after filling out a history form about myself. I may have seemed a bit high maintenance when I refused to sign my Anesthesia consent until I spoke with the actual Anesthesiologist in person who had to convince me to undergo general anesthesia, only under the conditions she wouldn't give me enough to require intubation and the bill wouldn't be any more than any other type of sedation. And I may have gotten a little frustrated when the pre-op nurse didn't let me help her with starting my IV. But let's just blame it on my fasting induced edgy coping mechanisms. Then they came back in my room and asked, "Why didn't you tell us you were a nurse?" Egh, I really don't like to pull that card.
Patrick sat next to me the whole time and held my hand. He was refusing to eat or drink until I could (saying he got to wet his whistle when he brushed his teeth and he would be fine when he knew I was fine), but I convinced him to get something while I was in surgery so he didn't pass out, since he was my designated driver and caretaker.
I got my push of Versed, managed a drive by kiss to the Hubby as they wheeled me to the OR and remember scooting on to the table. I thought briefly about how weird it would be for someone to cut my underwear off, and then next thing I knew I was waking up in recovery. The night before was completely sleepless, besides the one very vivid and frightening dream I had about my uterus and 3 pig fetus' falling out of my abdomen before I made it to the hospital and when I told the doctor he said that wasn't good news and my kidneys were failing due to the stress and I needed to be on a diuretic for a while. I woke up in a panic and realized the dream was just a reaction to the medicine I had to take in real life, before bed to make my cervix dilate, which really did make my uterus feel like it was falling out. Ouch. But I'm glad I gave in to the General; I woke up feeling the most rested than I have in a long time, minus the feeling of my arm catching on fire from the preservatives in the Morhpine push.
I got to have my favorite hospital Ritz peanut butter crackers and CranGrape juice with crushed ice, and have my favorite person sit with me until I was released from recovery. My recovery nurse was so wonderful and sweet, and sent me on my way with a prescription for Hydrocodone, so I don't have to deal with the cramps anymore.
Anytime I'm feeling a little melancholy, I look down at my feet to remind me of who I am.
I am the lotus flower that keeps it's bright colors no matter how murky the waters. I am strong, loud, and yet still soft, like an ocean wave. I am beautiful and unique, like a snowflake. And I am the the bird that trusts in the light through the darkest of nights with the power of faith.
Then I raise my head high, because the difficult times not only mold us, but show us how to rejoice in the good.
Thanks for sticking with me through my struggles. I promise the posts will be back to their normal silly selves next week.
Can we talk about how amazing these one size fits all mesh boxer brief underwear they gave me feel? They are surely the least sexy thing I've ever worn, but someone needs to find a way to recreate and patent these things to sell in stores, because they would be used to restock my underwear drawer!
When are you feeling down or lost, what do you do to help reorient yourself to who you are?
Posts
