My mom and I got to the hospital while it was still dark outside, and a nurse came in while I was giving the receptionist all of my information. I asked her if she was the one who would "take me to my death." My mom gasped, of course, and the nurses said I shouldn't say those kinds of things. I told them it was too early in the morning to joke. They didn't think it was very funny.
Obviously, my day started out on a good note. :)
I changed into a gown shorter than any dress I've ever worn--and skimpier because it had no back, met all 6 of the doctors who would be helping (how many docs does it take to perform a MINOR surgery?), and tried to listen to the anesthesiologist while a nurse put an IV in my arm. Now, I learned two years ago in my Psych class that I can't really handle blood (I pass out), but I don't like not watching a needle enter my body. That's just a dirty trick. The anesthesiologist just needed to hush so I could focus on the nurse. Needless to say, I probably missed out on something important because I was busy watching the needle insertion. After all of this doctor drama, I waited. A doctor, who looked my age, eased my mind by telling me he went to med school to learn how to take pictures snapped a photo of my mom and me. Not a funny joke, doc. Grow some facial hair.
Gown on, harassment passed, picture taken: I was ready to go. Because of the anesthetics, I was out as soon as the doctors wheeled me to the back room. And can i just say, I was pretty scared, so I was beyond glad that I was about to be out before the count.
I woke up, an hour later, in a strange room with a new nurse and my mom. They gave me water from a spoon, and I cried off and on because I didn't know what was going on, and I was in some pain. Not as bad as my wisdom teeth experience though ("mom, can we watch the Lion King when we get home? The ciiiircle of liiiiiife!!").
They tried to sit me up, so I could get dressed (I do not need your help, thank you very much), and I kept getting light-headed. Remember, I don't do well with blood, and I hadn't eaten in 14 hours. Ask anyone, I eat every other hour at least. The nurse gave me an alcohol swab to hold under my nose, and guess what! That sucker worked! What a relief! She gave us plenty for the next couple of days. What a great nurse.
Since being home, I have eaten 6 cups of jello, 3 popsicles, one egg (mashed into iiiiitty biiiiitty pieces), a small bowl of mashed potatoes, and downed 7 bottles of water. During the night, I woke myself up every two hours to take my medicine. Pretty proud. I'll be a good mom one day. ;)
I think I'm gona live, which is a relief, because my mom would be pretty sad after the comment about death yesterday morning.
