Surgery

This past Tuesday was D-Day for surgery. I was really really really not happy about it. I'm an intelligent person, but when it comes to overreactions, I'm kind of a moron. My biggest fear was that they would give me anesthesia, and I would be paralyzed, but would still be able to feel everything. That, and throwing up. And, oh yeah, dying on the operating table. But honestly, dying was definitely #3 on the list - behind the anesthesia not working, and puking after I woke up. See? Moron.

We had to be at the hospital at 6am on Tuesday, but they actually didn't start anything til 8:30am or so. These were probably the scariest 2.5 hours of my life. Thankfully they gave me a sedative before they wheeled me away from Josh and into the OR. I remember the last thing the anesthesiologist said was, "Think happy thoughts, so you dream happy things." So, I went to sleep thinking about Ireland, and my honeymoon. And what is the only dream I actually remember?? Facebook. I couldn't tell you what I dreamt about facebook, but I know I had a dream about it. Maybe that means it's time to take a break from it....

Anyway, I guess I was in recovery for 2 hours-ish?? I don't really know. I know I couldn't keep my eyes open, but I couldn't sleep. My throat hurt (from the tubes). I asked for antinausea meds, even though I wasn't really nauseous (just as a precaution). Finally they wheeled me into my actually hospital room - which I shared with two other girls in their 20s. At this point I guess it was around 2pm?? I was really happy when Josh came in the room. He sat with me until about 8pm, but I don't remember some of it. Mostly I just kept my eyes closed, but I didn't really sleep.

Now, compared with surgery, the night in the hospital was by far the worst thing. I would so much rather go thru surgery again than sleep one more night in a hospital. Between the snores of the other two girls, my insomnia (didn't go to sleep til 3:30am), my machines malfunctioning (I swear, beeps and buzzers went off about 7 times throughout the night) and the nurses coming in to check vitals - I got absolutely zero rest. Plus, the IVs kept making me have to pee. Luckily (or unluckily, as the case may be), they put a potty chair next to my bed so I wouldn't have to go down the hall. It was easier on me, but a hell of a lot more embarrassing.

The doctors wanted me to stay another night, but there was no way in hell I was letting that happen. The pain wasn't bad, and I had already been using crutches for two weeks before, so they really had no reason to keep me. THANK GOD!!

I am just so ready to be done with all of this. My sleep cycle is all messed up (I think mostly due to the pain meds). I have no appetite (which I guess is a blessing in disguise). I'm really just bored and cranky, which I know has to be irritating to Josh and Chris. Who, by the way, are being really helpful to me. But I just can't quit being Grumpy Gus. I'm mad at the world right now. And I swear, if the little German brats outside my window don't keep it down when I'm trying to nap, I swear I'm going to start throwing things at them.

See? Grumpy Gus.