Posted by Sarah on February 23, 2010
I don’t like to whinge and complain on here, not that I’m a saint, it’s just that massive emotional purges in public places tend lead right into the inevitable regret that slaps you in the face a day or two later when you re read what you wrote.
So I’m just going to tell you a story instead.
Glenn finally talked me into having an operation. Not that I didn’t need it. I’ve been having bouts of excruciating pain for the last 5 years, it’s just that the idea of someone knocking me out and turning my stomach into a patchwork quilt has never been top of my list of Fun Things To Do This Week. But after my dysfunctional gall bladder interfered with his love affair with Thai food we had that little talk.
So I agreed to join the waiting list secretly revelling in the tales of extended periods of waiting that everyone I have ever met who had an operation had to endure. I however got in on a cancelation, um, yay…so all of a sudden I was in hospital leaving Mum and Dad to look after three older kids and a not so happy, yet to be weaned Sabrina.
The operation itself actually went as well as being knocked out and having your stomach turned into a patchwork quilt could go. I totally freaked out and tried to go home, Glenn pushed me into the waiting room and then they ran a few test to make sure my heart that had jumped out of my chest and danced a highland fling on the floor was just stressed and didn’t have a permanent problem. Turns out I just have a stressed personality.
Thankfully God filled the waiting room with incredibly nice chatty people that kept me distracted one was even a home schooler which was kinda cool, a bit like meeting someone who grew up in the same town you did only I don’t know where all the cool hang out spots are yet.
Then it was time, the doors opened Glenn looked into my eyes and said “ If you choose to face it, you must do it alone. I cannot interfere” no, wait that was Yoda, I knew watching star wars before surgery was a bad idea.
I could say after that it was all a blur but that wouldn’t be true, I remember it quite well but it’s pretty boring so I’ll spare you the details save to say that when the anaesthesiologist said very apologetically that he was going to give me something that would make me feel a little out of it I couldn’t feel happier. Anything that would make me feel blasé about the whole thing was welcome by me.
Ok after that it did get blurry and then black.
When I woke up I was so out of it, it was really funny. My eyes kept rolling up every time I tried to focus on anyone. I vaguely remember talking to people but not really. in fact the next day when I was being released I realized that I hadn’t talked to the surgeon post opp only to be told that I actually had, answered questions and everything but I have no memory of it.
I started to feel nauseous just as home time rolled around but a very forcefully chipper nurse assured me that if I just pulled it together I’d be fine.
So then I was on my way home. Yay, I thought, that went better that I expected. And then I threw up.
And then I threw up.
And then I threw up.
you get the picture.
So we were back of to hospital. After a 4 hour wait in emergency I got to have my blood pressure taken. Then I got to go back to the waiting room. then after another hour or so I got to see count Von Draculdoctor. I’m sorry is that mean? She was really very nice only I couldn’t help laughing when in and thick Slavic ascent she took my arm, stroked it with a wipe then said “ Rright my Dee-ar I am gowing tooo taaake your Bluuuud” After prodding around in my arm till it turned a lovely shad of purplely green she followed my advice and used the gigantic and very close to the skin vein in my wrist, what a novel idea! She also gave me a shot of Maxolon then guess what, I got to go back to the waiting room. See they break up the boredom now with jabs.
Eventually I was given a bed and a list of tests as long as my arm. There was some sort of debate about whether this could still be a reaction to the anaesthetic or if it was something else. But I really couldn’t have cared less what it was as long as they let me lie down and kept me topped up with fluids and Maxolon I was happy.
Then Count Draculdoctor popped her head in to say that she thought I was pregnant and the indescribable look that warped Glenn’s features was so priceless the whole experience was worth it. I assured her I couldn’t be but Glenn made me take the blood test anyway. So we have some news, I am totally and officially not pregnant.
In the end I think I won though because I got to have a reasonably peaceful night at the hospital with lovely people waiting on me hand and foot and Glenn got a blackout and 4 terrified of the dark hysterical children.
