Free to a Good Home Pt.5
I'm gonna jump ahead to the day before my surgery. Long story short, it was hell. (There was several times the surgery was postponed and rescheduled due to my employer and I going our separate ways. More on that later.) My surgery date went from May 5th to May 8th; From May 8th to May 12th; May 12th to May 16th and then finally, May 26th. Yeah, I know.
So, it's the day before my surgery and I have instructions to follow to prep for the procedure. It seemed simple enough; no solid foods throughout the day, liquids only; nothing to eat after midnight, and perform a bowel prep. How hard could it be? In my defense, I had never done a bowel prep before. I honestly thought that by not eating solid foods for 24 hours was the bowel prep. The really interesting part of this story is, my mother, my sister, and my aunt (mother's sister) all had hysterectomies but none of them were required to perform a bowl prep before their surgeries. Which begs the question; Exactly how many times had my surgeon been shit on before this became her protocol?
Anyway, at 8am I drank my first 8oz bottle of Magnesium Citrate. It tasted like someone had ground up a bag of Sweet Tarts and had added them into a glass of Perrier. I choked it down and went about my day. About an hour later, I decided to walk my dog before I became incapacitated and couldn't leave the house. Well, the idea was good. The timing was not. I made it about halfway to our normal turn around point when my bowel declared war on the rest of my body. The stomach cramps hit me first; intense enough to bend me over and for my dog to look at me like, "The f*ck are you doing?!" And then, as I realized too late that I needed to get home, the dam burst.
Yep, I shit my pants. I never thought there would come a day where I'd be desperate for a pair of Depends, and yet, here I was; "Miss Soils Herself in Public 2015". I waddled my way home as fast as I could. I went right into the shower and rinsed off my humiliation. I suppose there are worse things that could've happened but, it didn't feel like it at the time. I remained in my house the rest of the day; no more than 20 ft from my bathroom. I now know the true meaning of "Full of Shit."
The next day, I arrived at the hospital at my appointed time of 11:30am, with my surgery scheduled for 2pm. I filled out the necessary paperwork, paid my co-payment, and received my directions to the out-patient surgery section of the hospital. Once there, the nurses took my vitals, issued my wristbands, got me into a hospital gown that big enough to house The Circus of the Stars, and eventually in bed. All in all, everything appeared to be going well. All I had to do was wait...
And wait some more...
At 1:45pm, a nurse came over to me and said that my surgery had been delayed to 3:15pm because an emergency came in and they to use the Operating Room I was assigned to. That wasn't too bad. I'd waited three years for this surgery, I could wait a few extra minutes.
At 3:30pm, I was told the emergency surgery was in progress. They didn't know how much longer it was going to be. Out-patient surgery was getting ready to close for the day and they had to find somewhere for me to go. They moved me into a room on the Maternity Ward because the best possible place for a woman who was about to lose her uterus was right next to the screaming babies. The staff got me settled in my room and a new nurse was assigned to me. I was beginning to get anxious and a little cranky. I made it a point to tell any and all hospital staff I saw that I was not leaving the premises with my uterus; even if it meant I had to do it myself. Keep in mind, I hadn't eaten in 46 hours and was ready to kill someone for a bag of Doritos or hospital pudding. I tried to stay calm and read my book, but the cries of the newborn babies in the rooms around me had the effect of nails on a chalk board on my concentration.
At 4:30pm, I was still reading my book. My mother convinced the nurse to let me have some ice chips because I was starting to sound like Harvey Fierstein when I spoke. I felt bad for my family and friends that were with me. It's one thing when you're left waiting for surgery to be performed on you, but it's another when you're there voluntarily. What a miserable way to spend a day...
It was 5:10pm when they finally came to get me to roll me down to the OR. Relief washed over me because I knew I'd be unconscious soon and would no longer be hungry. I was wheeled in to a staging area just outside the OR where the anesthesiologist was waiting for me. He put in my IV and we discussed my allergy to Soy. Did you know there's link between Soy and Anesthesia? I was to get a special cocktail of meds because of it. Then, Dr. Cotter came in and she and the anesthesiologist discussed my pain management. She was really concerned about my sensitivity to narcotics. The decision was to put me on Tramadol. Truth is, I could've cared less about pain. I'd be more than happy to deal with a little pain if it meant I'd be rid of this bitch of a uterus.
They wheeled me into the OR and moved me over to the operating table. My last thought after the anesthesiologist put the mask on me was, "I could eat the hell outta some pancakes right about now..."
To be continued in Part 6