On surgery day, while waiting for my ex husband to come pick us up (amicable divorce, long story), nerves got the better of me. I'm glad I hadn't been allowed any food for hours beforehand (no more detail should be needed here).
Everyone was tense on the drive over, probably feeding off of my energy. The directions on the hospital paperwork skipped a step, and after sitting in a waiting room with a few expectant grandparents and fathers for 30 minutes, I began to panic that we weren't in the right area. We weren't. Well, we WERE, but no one had told me there was paperwork to pick up first, several floors down. Once I realized that, then I panicked because time was ticking away wasted.
After sorting it out and following the blue train to the red boat and then the green wave back to the 3rd floor, I was already done with patience. Anyone who has been to that particular hospital will know what I mean.
The staff were running behind, my daughter was getting antsy (usually followed by mouthy), my sister was a wreck and the ex was nowhere to be found. I was getting annoyed and dumbfounded as to how the first surgery of the day (mine) could be "backed" up when my surgeon and anesthesiologist were there and ready to turn me into a one-tit wonder.
The meltdown came when the ex walked around the corner with coffee and bagels. In hindsight, I'm sure he thought I was already in surgery. However, after many married years of him doing many things like that, it was the tip of the iceberg. I had really hoped to keep my mascara intact for the surgery, but the coffee scent undid me. And yes, I went into that OR looking as good as I possibly could, because screw cancer.
By noon, I was home and settled on the couch. There wasn't much discomfort, but I was pretty medicated so probably just hadn't felt it as much.
Three days later, I felt it. I mean, really felt it (and still am). I had assumed I would have some pain at the main surgery area, but haven't so far. The pain I do have is under my arm and feels like I'm being pinched, stabbed, burned and beaten simultaneously.
I have no information on how the surgery went, if there was anything of concern etc.
My surgeon is an excellent slicer/dicer, but he appears to not know how to "people".
He also wouldn't prescribe anything for pain and said Tylenol should be enough.
He was wrong. Very wrong.
I see him in February for the post op appointment. When he's done talking, I may jusk kick him in the man parts till he drops and then toss him a bottle of Tylenol.
My next blog post could be from jail.
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