Girl gross stuff, Part II

I do not want to be one of those people who inflicts their medical details on anyone who can't get away from them fast enough. I am going to briefly describe the weird thing that apparently happened on Monday, and then not talk about it again. I went to the hospital at noon on Monday, and went through the same crap I always do where several people tried and failed to start an IV on me because they couldn't find a vein. Eventually, someone did, and I went off to sleepyland before they even got me into the OR. When I woke up Monday afternoon, I was in the recovery room and in tons of pain. Fortunately, unlike last time, nobody shushed me when I moaned and cried. The nurses just told me they'd get me some meds. They did, and I next woke up in my hospital room. Mom stopped in and dropped off my overnight bag, then took my car keys and left. She couldn't stay long, because Dad and my nephews were waiting in the parking lot. That was okay, though, because I was right back out of it fairly soon.

Tuesday morning was more pain, a fierce sore & dry throat, and lots of nausea. I ate a lot of ice, dry-heaved a few times (which hurt like hell) and talked with my doc when he made his morning rounds. I had no idea that ovaries could grow back, but apparently, after the surgery in 2002, my right one did just that. He actually asked me if he took that one in the previous surgery, and all I could answer was that I was told that he did! He also found a fair number of endometrial adhesions, so there's very little wiggle room for my insurance to refuse to pay for the surgery. This time, he took everything, so nothing can grow back. I had no idea that human reproductive organs were that stubborn--kinda gives you the feeling that we're only here to make more of us.

The IV in my left hand infiltrated on Tuesday, and I was left with a fat paw about three times the size of my right hand. I promised to be very good and drink all my water, so the nurse got the doc on call to agree not to put in a new IV. I even managed to eat a few bites of scrambled egg for lunch and a few bites of turkey for dinner. I was a model patient, up and walking when they told me to, etc., and my reward for being good was getting to come home Wednesday morning. At 7:00, the doc on duty said I could go home, at 8:00 the floor nurse said I was official, and at 9:00, the nurse in charge of discharges scolded me for not checking with her first, as I couldn't possibly leave until she'd taken care of all my paperwork, and I should not have listened to the doctor and the other nurse and arranged a ride for 9:15.

I'm really torn about that last bit. Thanks to Snicker, I have even more appreciation for the crap nurses get put through. On the other hand, I did what I was told I could do, and if she had a problem with the other nurse & the doc, she should have told them, not taken it out on me. I'm not such a veteran of hospital stays that I know all the protocol, and I didn't deserve the snotty remarks.

At any rate, it was good to get out of there. Amy brought me home, and stayed and yakked with me a bit, then headed off for her morning dog-letting-out rounds. Mom dropped by later, having picked up my Percocet at the pharmacy, and stayed long enough to give me a hug and tell me I looked pretty good. She also brought a whole bag of Lush goodies she got in Dallas (and me not able to take tub baths until my staples are out) and a really cute card from Marcia. The flowers Mallie sent are blooming, and they are not tulips, but very pretty crocuses--white with purple marbling. This is exciting not only because I have flowers in the house, but because crocuses are not deersnackies, and I can plant them in the yard come fall, and have these pretty little flowers again next spring!

I'm wondering if it will be safe to sleep in my bed any time soon. My lower back has been screaming at me since I woke up from the surgery, and catnapping in the recliner doesn't do much for real rest. I'm super grateful for the DVD player Mallie & The Scarecrow gave me for Christmas. So far, I've read two Terry Pratchett books and watched "Madagascar" and at least six episodes of "The Dog Whisperer." I can't wait until the pain is gone and I can go back to work. I know, I'm all weird and stuff.

Time to go take another Percoset and have another yummy cup of non-hospital coffee.