Wake Me Up When Its All Over....
My wires hurt. I feel slightly, ever so slightly, how Pinhead must feel. I return to my bed and hope that things will get better.
They do! I meet my Anesthetist. He is very nice and friendly. We talk about how little experience I have had with operations. I have spent a lot of time sleeping recently, but that was not due to active drug use, just post-chemo induced malaise. He beetles off and saying "I will see you later" Undoubtably.
I put on my surgical stockings, which are a nice shade of grey, and I am ready to roll. I see some people leave. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes they don't. Then it's my turn.
A nice porter talks me along, through corridors and double doors. I feel like I am in an episode of ER. But without George Clooney. I meet my nice anesthetist again. He puts in my cannula (which hurts again! What is it with needles today?) and within a few minutes I am asleep.
When I wake up, 5 hours later, I don't feel too good. In fact, truth be told, I feel downright awful. I am in recovery for a while before I am allowed up to the ward. When I get to the ward I am sick. Twice. Most unpleasant. I have a big, long tube attached to a drain coming out from under my arm. I have pressure pad things on my legs which inflate solemenly. I am not a pretty picture. I have half hourly obs and request pain relief. I think I get morphine. Which was nice.
In the morning, I am supposed to be discharged first thing. But I have a slight problem with my wound. A doctor needs to look at it but there is no one available - they are all in surgery, etc. Everyone leaves. All except me. I really want to go home now. Eventually, a doctor sees me and says I'm clear. My amazing hubbie helps me to the car. Its snowing and freezing cold. I go home and sleep.
