I'm free!

Well, I'm out. Wednesday 6:30 a.m. I showed up and demanded a mani-pedi and a facial. I got a hysterectomy instead, but at least the nurses thought it was funny. I certainly could've used the mani-pedi, though... they should multi-purpose the surgery unit, methinks. Thursday, I was out by noon.

So, the operation itself took longer than they'd planned. Apparently I'm not the correct size. Don't ask.

I also learned that when doing a hysterectomy on a patient, they turn her UPSIDE DOWN. Thus, after four hours in surgery, my face and hands were swollen. Gee. Wonder why?

Also, it turns out I'm allergic to dillaudid. It's a shame because, as a nurse friend of mine tells me, "it's good stuff." However, when given same, I do my imitation of a rash-y Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Not so good.

My surgeon was talented AND had lots and lots of company in the surgery suite. I counted three surgeons, a med student, a resident, a fellow, two anesthesiologists and several nurses. (No, I wasn't awake; these are the folks that introduced themselves to me.) I'm told being in good shape helped with my miraculously quick recovery. See? There's a reason I make my classes do a gazillion sit-ups!

So now I'm home.

I can't wear pants or, really, anything with a waistband. So unless I'm willing to wear a dress and go "commando," I am stuck at home. My belly is swelled out to here and is hard as a rock. You'd think I was pregnant, which is kind of ironic under the circumstances.

Ordinarily I loathe pain meds, but I make an exception in the case of abdominal surgery. Having one's gut twisted up is really better resolved while asleep. Moving around does nobody any good.

And that thing about filling your body cavity with CO2 is no joke. Initially the gas settled around my hips. I literally could not feel the bones of my hips-- it was like I had a big, fleshy balloon around them. Now some of the gas has migrated to the traditional spot post-laproscopy: my shoulders. Ow.

El F and I have settled in to watch a lot of DVDs and hang out. He took several days off to watch over me. And a lot of the moms of Liv's friends have invited her over for afternoons or sleepovers to give us a break. May those people reap lavish rewards for their good deeds; I could not have survived without them.

El F's task will become much harder when I start to feel better. I'm on full "pelvic rest" for most purposes for four weeks. Some tasks go six weeks. Anyway, as you probably know, I'm not a sedentary soul and pelvic rest involves doing almost nothing I like to do. The least invasive of these restrictions is that I can't lift anything over ten pounds. Folks, my DOG weighs more than 10 pounds. I am so hosed.

Anyway, I've promised to be good. And I will try. But it is not going to be easy once I start to feel better. So if you see me lifting something, kindly knock it out of my hands. (Unless it's a living creature. Then you have permission to speak sharply to me.)

Right now, my primary complaint is that, as inflated as my belly is, it's hard to get a lung full of air. And I'm bored by sitting around. Still, it's much better than it might've been, no? Once again, I'm incredibly lucky.