WannaSexyTummy
Nobody Told Me I'd Be a Crazy Person
Feb 22, 2009
Or maybe they did and I just didn't realize they meant I'd literally turn into a crazy person post-surgery. I guess I thought they just meant hormonal, like PMS or something. Nope. Turns out you seriously lose your mind afterwards.But let's back up.
I showed up at the hospital early, got signed in, they called me back and told me they'd bring my husband back after they got my IV started. Several people visited me to ask me questions. The anesthesiologist was really sweet, told me that he'd done over 3000 of these things and no one had ever told him it was worse pain-wise than gallbladder surgery. He was sweet...but a LIAR! LOL! Holy crap. But anyway.
I was fine until my husbnad came into the room, then I started getting these weird, stupid, panicky feelings like I should run out of the room, not have the surgery at all. But he kept me sane and the nurses rolled me back into the surgery room. Another anesthesiologist put a shot in my IV and I felt loopy, then he put the mask over my face. What? The doctor wasn't even there yet! But okay...only after the third breath, I couldn't inhale, felt like I was choking. He said, "I know. I know. It's okay." and all I could think was "you don't know. I can't breathe and you don't know and I'm going to die." Then I woke up in recovery. My first thought was "OW". My second thought was "No way am I ever getting plastic surgery. That not-breathing thing and the OW are just too much. Besides, my hubby doesn't care if I look like a shar-pei--OWWWW!!!!" I laid there for a loooong time. From where I was, I could see a clock on the wall. It was a full two hours after I was supposed to be in my room. I wondered how freaked out my husband must be. Then the lady a few beds down and across started having serious troubles. Serious as in every nurse, every doctor ran over, closing all the curtains and shouting medical terms, yelling at the woman to breathe, breathe...for a weird moment, I wondered if that was really me and I was watching it from the outside. Then they pulled my curtain back again and eventually rolled me to my room.
My husband was there - we passed him in the hall. All I could think when I saw him was that I was so glad I lived long enough to see him again. He was sweet, told me he loved me. The day went by in a blur. I slept. After a while, my kids came to see me. They looked scared, but I was so glad to see them. The oxygen tube in my nose scared them, I think. after a while, my family left, and again, I slept.
I was in the hospital for three months. It felt that way, anyway. In all actuality, it was only two nights. A blur of heparin shots, finger pokes, people talking. Then I came home.
My sister sent flowers. I carried them on my lap in the car. I thought being home would make me feel so much better.
But, weirdly, I feel stuck in a nightmare. Every day lasts a week. Every pain goes on forever. My surgery was Wednesday. Today is Sunday. I feel like I can't do anything on my own and this is the first time I've sat at my desk. The very thought of vitamins FOREVER, of eating right and exercising FOREVER, of doinbg the work that I knew I would have to do FOREVER spralls out before me and I can't stop crying. The doubts - the stupid doubts that the logical me understands is because of hormones and whatnot - twitch in my brain constantly. I did this to myself. and now I can never undo it. Way to go, girly. Way to be selfish.
But I know those thoughts will go away in a few months, that reason will prevail. I'm glad I had the surgery. So, so glad.
I'm just looking forward to being sane again.
