Why is there a 300lb man wearing metal cleats standing on my chest?

It’s done. I’m home and everything hurts. But after lopping off a few body parts, I think some pain is to be expected. Up until my most recent medical visits I haven’t had much experience in hospitals. I’ve never broken a bone, never had to stay overnight and my biggest hospital emergency was in grade 5 when I was playing with my moms sewing machine, hit the foot pedal while trying to change the thread and ended up with a needle through my finger. And thus ended my dreams to be a child prodigy fashion designer.

My anxiety on Wednesday and Thursday were through the roof but I woke up yesterday feeling a strange sense of calm. I wasn’t nervous, wasn’t anxious and my heart never tried to escape from my chest. I wasn’t expecting this at all, I was certain that I was going to vibrate from the time I woke up until they put me under.

The surgery went well. I went in at about 2pm and woke up in recovery around 4:30pm. After spending a long day at JP (Jim Pattison’s Outpatient Centre – super awesome new facility where day surgery is done) I thought I would share a few things I noticed yesterday:

• Not many people have a sense of humour. I get it, it’s technically a hospital and serious things happen there but I feel like I’ve wasted some good jokes on deaf ears.
• I had to get this shot of nuclear medicine so that the surgeon can see where the lymphnodes are during surgery. I was hoping to feel like Spiderman or reap some kind of radioactive super hero benefit but no such luck. Unless my superpower is peeing blue/green, then hand me my cape.
• I need to get new glasses. You’re obviously not able to wear your contacts and I have just one pair of glasses. They are not cute and they are roughly 3 prescriptions behind so not super helpful. Also, I feel like I look like Sally Jesse Raphael when I wear them because they are purple/pink/red.
• They ask you to wipe your body down with these antiseptic wipes. NEVER get it near any of your sensitive bits. Stings like a mofo
• Contrary to what the admitting nurse says, you can wear your underwear. She told me to take everything off and change into a gown and when I asked about undies she said no, take them off too. So I sat around in pre-op waiting rooms with no underwear on feeling super weird about it. When I was called to have my IV put in I asked that nurse and she laughed and said “of course you can wear your underwear! Your surgery is waist up”. Right. Undies on.
• When it’s time to go you have to walk yourself into the Operating Room. It’s so weird. I pushed my IV down the hall and into the OR where a bunch of doctors and nurses were getting ready for the surgery. Weird.
• Once I walked into the room they asked me to hop up on the bed. I searched for something that looked like a bed. What I saw before me was like a diving board with a sheet on it. Ummm, can I order a size up? I am not interested in adding ‘concussed’ to my chart when I bust this 2×4 mid-operation. Also, Where will my arms go? ohhh, on those 2 other boards so it’s like a crucifix? Awesome.
• Why the little tiny New York Fries container for throw up? There’s nothing little about me, including my throw up. And throw up I did, a lot.
• Gravol comes in suppository form. That’s all I’ll say about that.
•  Erin the nurse is awesome. Actually, whatever the level is above awesome is where she is.

I am home now and feeling more and more like myself every hour that passes. Last night was a bit rough with waves of nausea and being in and out of sleep but at about 8pm I had some soup and dry toast and immediately started to feel better. It had been 20 hours since I had had any solid food and T3’s on an empty stomach didn’t seem to agree with me either. After the soup I had a real fruit popsicle that might have been sent from heaven and then Nicole busted out the cure of all cures, Ms Vickies Salt and Vinegar chips.

Yes, I’m sore. Moving anything hurts. It’s like I did the most intense abs and upper body workout ever and then let Chuck Norris roundhouse kick me in the chest. But when I’m not moving around too much (thanks to Tasha I don’t have to move for anything other than going to the bathroom) I feel like regular old Arielle.

Nap time.