Surgery Day pt 3

So Michael Caine the Doctor comes in, and in my searing hand pain I look at him, trying to figure out if he's competent or not. I tell him he looks like Michael Caine, and he says "really? I haven't heard that one before"
Me: "wait, i'm thinking Michael Caine right? That guy?"
Doc: "Yeah, i see where you're going with that".

Then i go back to wailing about my hand, and the anesthesiologist starts telling me i'm going to fall asleep anyway. I remember the ceiling getting spinny-ish, like when you've had too much to drink. I've been put under before, and I remember they told me that i would get a funny taste in the back of my throat. It's one of the distinct memories I had when i was a kid and i had my other surgery. this time, i remember the taste in the back of my throat, but it was quick and very subtle.

Next thing I know, I'm being woken up. I mumble something about wanting to know what was going on, and why didn't i get my surgery. The nurse tells me it's already all done. I look around, i'm in another room, and there's a row of our stretcher bed doodads with us girls in them.

I chill out for a bit, chat with the girl next to me. Under the blue paper robe I have a pad. oh no, not a normal pad like ALways with wings. no no...I have what you'd read about in Are You There God, It's Me Margaret. What they used in the 70's. Basically a G-string that's hooked up with a metal closure tied (yes, TIED) to a 2" thick pad. Eventually nurse lady tells me to slowly get off the bed and change in the bathroom.

I go...the cramping wasn't half as bad as the situation with my hand. I've got 3 probes stuck to me, both the areas in the crook of my arms (where you normally get blood drawn, behidn your elbow, where your arm bends, whatever that's called) have cotton balls and tape covering up stuff, I have a bandaid on my left shoulder, and cotton ball/tape on my right hand from where they jacked me up.

After I changed and assessed the pad situation (blood, check), i go to sit down. This is one big room almost with different stations: where you're first brought in on the stretcher, the bathroom, the sitting area with food and drinks, and then the little desk of this overbearing lady who snapped at me and this other girl for texting while we were waiting.

When i say food and drinks, it was little dixie cups filled with some orange drink (Tang?) or water, and a bowl full of saltines.

The girl in front of me is next to go up for her followup, when she sits up this other chick comments how there's blood all through her clothes and onto the seat. So they tell her to go to the bathroom but NOT to flush so they can inspect the blood that comes out. Some chick comes along and sprays bleach on the seat and cleans it up.

I do more smalltalk with the girls around me, one was this adorable chick who had an amazing blowout. I asked her what was up with her hair (she wasa one of the few who showed up in tight jeans, you're told to wear comfy clothes for a reason...this girl looked great. What abortion?), she said she couldn't sleep so she got up early to do her hair. Fair enough.

I get called up next, and the overbearing nurse is actually really really nice and caring. She tells me chandler (or someone) HAS to pick me up, and she has to escort me out to the point where she sees him. So i text him to let him know i'm ready.

She walks me through the aftercare stuff, I ask her if my antidepressants are okay to take (yes), whether the medication will give me yeast infections like cipro (no), how often to check my temperature (only when i'm heating up), that i need to come back in 2 weeks (Nov 2nd, 11am), and the other usual stuff (nothing in your vagina for 2 weeks, don't take aspirin, etc). I was bummed, I hoped for some vicodin. I've never taken vicodin, but something tells me I would want it for other reasons.

I get a text from Chandler that he's waiting outside, she walks me out, and then that's it.

I'll gloss over the person stuff as much as possible going forward, because naturally there's drama drama drama....