Surgery

In week 2 of the new year, I've had another banner experience.  Surgery.  I had a hysterectomy.  Now, as not to scare off any men that may be readers, I will not go into any detail of the great women's moon cycle (as I like to call it) or anything of the like.  Simply put, I have no further use for my uterus, and it insisted on causing me pain.  All of the womankind around me raised their glasses to the farewell to the uterus and we thanked it for its service in carrying my children, but when a body part turns against you, I bid it farewell. 

In health care land, surgery is so very routine.  It does seem that it would be helpful to have a graphic on the wall showing the answers to all the questions they may ask.  Then maybe they would only ask them once.  I answered the same questions no less than 5 times, every time the next contestant would enter.  It could even be done in game show format.  And the answer IS????  Now I know it's a precaution to have my name and birth date repeated a ridiculous number of times, but I'm really thinking that if there were a medical mistake, it's not that the patient that got their name or birth date wrong it's a health care worker that got it wrong so my repeating it over and over again seems somewhat unnecessary and entirely redundant.  It's on my wrist and it's the same name and birth date as when I got here.  

And then there was the bonus Marla the klutz injury that had to be explained (many times).  A few days before surgery I was going through my usual routine getting ready for work.  The problem I have is that in the morning, I am one big hot flash.  As soon as I realize I'm awake and have covers on I'm overheated and the covers go flying off.  Then I step into the shower, which I can make too hot because I'll even have a hot flash IN the shower.  So after my shower I put on a light robe so as not to make me overheat yet again.  Obviously getting too hot is going against the whole plan here, I am getting ready and applying make-up and fixing my hair.  To get sweaty now would ruin the entire thing!  Make-up was fine, now hair--I need to use a blow dryer on my hair, but I'm very hot.  If I don't take the robe off while I blow dry, I just may combust.  I've never actually tested that theory, but I am an explosion waiting to happen . . . on the inside.  The robe is off, I'm drying, this task is completed without incident.  Then, I am going to complete my hairstyle for the day with (don don don-this is somewhat scary music) the CURLING IRON.  I used it on a few wisps of hair and grabbed a piece of hair of somewhat uneven lengths and put it in the curling iron and turned.  Oops, I didn't get the ends in there and it will look all bent at the ends if I don't do it right.  I press the handle to release it slightly and I pressed it too hard, all the hair came out of the curling iron and the top heavy curling iron slid down my hair and I lost hold of the handle.  The curling iron fell down in front of my unrobed body and just touched one thing on it's way down . . . my stomach.  This isn't the little burn I have gotten on my neck or ear from a curling iron over the years.  This is an 3-4 inch image of the entire side of the curling iron burned into my skin. 

So in prepping for surgery, every nurse and doctor had to see it so when they were all in surgery and uncovered my midsection, nobody would gasp and ask what in the hell I had done to my stomach.  I started by telling them about my smooth move and ultimate injury because I didn't want anybody asking me if I felt safe in my home or if someone was abusing me.  Yes, the only danger in my home is me apparently.

I had to stay overnight in the hospital and was able to go home the next day.  I thought my walk after surgery was a little bit on the early side.  I know they want you to stand up and walk after surgery, but when I'm barely out of anesthesia and so dizzy the room is spinning I just would think that would be the indication to wait for a bit.  But I didn't fall or anything and met their requirement of at least walking to the door of my room, that box was checked.  

The next few days were a blur of narcotic pain meds and trying to get up and around and figure out what I could handle for activity.  By Sunday (post-op day 6) I felt good.  I wanted to get into exercising and work on that new years resolution--let's get to it!!  What I didn't think about was that I was on narcotics as I was thinking these thoughts, so whatever pain I may have had was taken care of by the meds.  Monday morning . . . one week after surgery.  I wasn't going to take any pain meds today, I was going to conquer the pain because I am ready to be done recuperating!!!  This had gone on long enough, I was done with everybody needing to help me.  I have a great roommate who has been really waiting on me as much as I needed.  I told her my great plans, however I was leaning forward a bit because my abdomen was hurting a little.  Mind over matter, I was going to conquer this!  She started to talk about only one week, there will be time for all that--first recover; to be followed by another friend that stopped and talked more reality, do I want to have to start over and recover twice.  All along these talks, my eyes are tearing uncontrollably, I'm crying, over what I'm not sure.  This is what happens after any surgery, I crash, like crashing into a wall and sliding down.  When I realized that these people were actually right (probably why I was crying, I hate to be wrong) and that I need to heal like everybody else that has this surgery, I momentarily stopped crying.  By this time, my pain had soared and I asked them to pass me the pain meds and I took one.  Thank God for pain meds!

Now I am just on non-narcotic pain control and since Monday, I've gotten stronger and better each day.  I went to the doctor and everything is healing nicely, even the curling iron burn.