It has been a week since my surgery. Well, it's nearly 2AM so that technically makes it Thursday but it is still Wednesday night in my mind. So, a week. According to my doctor I'm healing fine - everything looks good. To me, of course, things are not so good. I've been in a constant level of pain, albeit minimal, and while I'm taking strong pain meds it's those meds that also make me feel sick. There's a long list of side effects and my body seems to be experiencing them all. Not to mention my uncomfortable sleeping position, lack of appetite, and uneasy showering. My stitches prevent me from 100% movement, which I'm painfully reminded when I do a routine gesture like stretching. Ouch. Still, through all my complaining, I find a strange happiness. It's all over with. Everything is fine now and I'm on the mend. There is so much to be thankful for and so many people to thank for staying by my side through all this. Including the hospital staff. Sure, it's their job but I got such great treatment and I can judge this because I was hysterical before the surgery. I scared off three nurses and it got to the point to where the anesthesiologist had to administer the IV. He had kids so he knew how to handle me. Haha. I was freaking out so bad. Once the IV was in, I was half relieved. Half my battle was won - the second half being the actual surgery. Surprisingly it went just as everyone said it would. I do remember entering the OR, and a man named Steve asking me how I felt. I told him I was really scared and he replied something akin to, "Oh, I'll take care of that." Within what felt like seconds, I was out.
I was in the OR for nearly two hours, according to my mom. And it's true, I felt nothing nor one second of that time. The next thing I remember was waking up in the last room they put me in (not recovery, but step down) where I heard my mom and my doctor talking, but I was too sleepy to open my eyes. I remember asking for more drugs too for the pain. As I am not accustomed to taking any meds beyond Tylenol and Claritin, this knocked me out cold. My surgery was at noon and I didn't leave the hospital till 7PM. Yeah, kinda crazy.
I keep thanking God it's over and for giving me whatever strength I had to get through it. When I checked in to the hospital I excused myself to the restroom to cry...hard. I thought for sure I couldn't go through with it. But I did. And I'm alive to tell about it. Gosh, the medical tecnology today is amazing. There have been times when I wished so bad to have lived in the 19th century among the Anglo-Saxon Victorians. Ha, forget that. I am very grateful now to have been born in this era. Very very grateful.
So now this scary event has passed. The pain is unfortunate but I'm okay. I did it. Hope I never have to undergo anything like this again but it really wasn't as bad as I made it to be in my head. My head is a very bad place to be sometimes. All my education and still I haven't learned to think rationally about some things. My goodness. Will I ever not be afraid of life? During my recovery this past week has me thinking on so much - all the things I'm afraid of, all the other things I take for granted...
This Friday I go back to have my stitches out. Yep, I'm freaking out about that too. Never had stitches before and it's the fear of the unknown that has me restless. I just got to get me through it. A few people have told me it's nothing, doesn't hurt, so I'm going on faith. Lots of faith. In a matter of months I will be near full recovery and I will appreciate my bed all the more (can't sleep on my side, have to sleep propped up and on my back). I think I will sleep for a whole day to celebrate! Mmmm...sleep. I guess I'd better try that now. 2:22AM just passed, made my wish, and now time to dream of my love.
