Wednesday was the day before my hysterectomy. I worked all day which was actually good because it kept my mind off things, and kept me busy. Wednesday night I thought I deserved a last meal of sorts. I would have to fast after midnight, and on the off chance I died, I didn’t really want my last meal to be pretzel chips and beer cheese. I went with Mexican. A little enchilada, a little burrito, a little tamale and some rice beans and queso. In hindsight I’ve made better choices. You live and learn. Chuck painted my toe nails because that is literally the only thing I could have. No makeup, no jewelry, no nail polish on my fingernails. The only thing to make me feel human was a freshly trimmed who ha and some pretty toe nails. Wednesday night I actually slept pretty good. Much better than I thought I would.
Thursday morning the alarm went off at 5:30 am. I was still cool as a cucumber. I took another shower with the antiseptic wash and got dressed. No coffee for me. That part definitely sucked. I wasn’t sure anything could suck worse until we pulled in the parking lot and I could feel it. My Mexican from the night before had decided that now was the time to induce a poop. Not this morning before I took a shower, but rather right as I arrived for surgery. Mother Trucker. We got to the admittance counter and went over all of the basic questions. She got to the “is there anything else I can answer for you” part and I told her, “yes, I have to poop”. Well apparently that is something that I can’t do before the nurse takes me back because I need to provide a urine sample. You know to make sure I’m not pregnant after my tubes were tied 10 years ago and my uterus was ablated 8 years ago. We were brought back to our private room and I was escorted to the bathroom with the normal wipe front to back, pee in the cup and put it in the door instructions. Damn you Mexican food.
Once I got back to my room there was no turning back. No changing my mind like I do when I get to the front of the roller coaster line. I’ve dreamt of this day for at least 2 years. Finally, financially and with my work schedule I can take the 6 weeks off to heal. My nurse Megan was a Leo. We had a lot in common. She was a fantastic distraction even if she missed my first IV and I almost passed out. Everyone came in and made their rounds. My anesthesiologist, my doctor, my nurse anesthetist, my surgical nurse. It was go time. I kissed my husband. I felt worse for him than I did for me. He doesn’t do well in the helpless roll. His hands were not made to be idle. For example, when I took off my clothes and threw them in the belongings bag I caught him taking them out and folding them nicely and re packing them. When I almost passed out he was the fan holder at my head telling me how great I was doing. The next three hours we’re going to be hell for him and I knew it.
Waking up in recovery threw me for a loop. I’ve had surgeries before but I don’t remember being in that much pain right out of the gate. I don’t remember much except my recovery nurse was not warm and fuzzy. Very intelligent I’m sure, but her people skills were a bit lacking. Once I got back into the room I feel like time stood still. So much fucking pain and so cold. The cool thing is they have this little fan thing that can blow cool air when you pass out and warm air when your cold. 3M bair hugger system is what it was called. I’ve gotta say it was a bit Boujee and I loved it. Coming out of anesthesia took me forever, like hours. We got there at 6:30 am and we got home at about 3:00. I had one test to pass and I could leave. Seemed like an easy one too. All I had to do was pee. If I am good at anything, it is peeing. I can pee anytime, anywhere. It’s a known fact that when on road trips we stop at all rest areas because I am going to have to pee. Unfortunately after 2 attempts it wasn’t happening. This meant a crash course in self catheterization. This next part needs its own paragraph.
Y’all know I like to paint you pictures with my words. I like you to get a feeling for what it was actually like. Your engagement and emotions are important to me and my writing but this is a whole new level of honesty. Unfortunately my nurse Megan had to leave early for some rehearsal dinner so I got someone new. Nothing against her, it’s just hard re adjusting to someone who didn’t see you when you were funny and spunky and now only has the current desperation impression. I could tell she wanted to show me how to straight catheter myself about as much as I wanted her to. We all went into the bathroom together, her, chuck and myself. So now I’m into hour 8 of this day and I’m beyond exhausted. She gets me on the toilet and asks me how much I know about the female anatomy. Nope, not joking. I’m sure my face said shut the hell up but my mouth said “just enough”. Apparently I was not only getting my bits ripped out today I also was getting an anatomy lesson with a hand mirror and a cell phone flashlight, I shit you not. My husband was the light holder and I was the mirror holder. As she tried to jam that straw up my urethra she says “wow you’re really swollen!” No shit Helen, news flash my babies were all C-sections. That vagina just had a uterus, and cervix pulled out of it so she’e a bit angry. The nurse went to get backup. So now it’s Chuck, Me still trying to lay back on this toilet and 2 nurses. Thank GOD backup nurse was amazing and got er done in one shot. I was officially cleared to go home. They sent me with a bag full of catheters. At this point I would have been A-ok buying pads every month.
The ride home was a blur. I knew I was gonna puke so I hummed. I’m a hummer and a rocker. As a matter of fact I’m literally rocking in bed with a heating pad as I write this now. As soon as we hit the driveway I asked for the bucket. The infamous puke bucket that always goes missing. Chuck got me settled into bed, set the bucket down and bam. 3 cups of Ice water and an OxyCodone wasted. I slept on and off for the remainder of the day yesterday. The good news is I started to pee on my own. Thank GOD because I really didn’t want to have to go through that catheter debacle again.
When Connie from Spectrum called to check in me today I was so excited to tell her I peed. Almost as excited as a toddler that was getting an M&M for a similar task. Unfortunately she explained that she still wanted me to use a catheter once I was done “voiding” my bladder to see how much was left. I giggled and told her that although I appreciate her concern I wasn’t going to do it. She then proceeded to get a bit sterner and say that she will send a message up to Dr. Leary and she’ll get me know what she says. Ok, Connie you do that. Last I checked I’m an adult that knows her body. Kind of like the 600mg of IBP and the 650mg of Tylenol. My body doesn’t even know what that is. Shit I take 800mg of IBP when I have a headache. When I would have cramps I’d add a 1000mg of Tylenol to that 800mg of IBP. I’m taking your catheter information as advice, kind of like the weak ass scripts you gave me. Well Connie called back and explained that Dr. Leary would meet me in the middle and I’d only have to straight catheter once if I got less than 3oz. Son of a bitch. Chuck and I headed in the bathroom and got er done. I know I’ve said it thousands of times but damn this man is seriously the best.
My friends have been amazing. They check in on me, but understand that when I don’t answer back right away that I’m either not feeling good or I’m asleep. We had the best lasagna delivered tonight along with some sweets and I got to see my friends beautiful faces. My mom even came by to visit for a bit. I’d imagine seeing a grown child uncomfortable isn’t any easier than when they are younger. I just loaded up on meds again and took a shot of miralax. This July 4th is gonna be one to remember one way or another.