Recovery

I'm alive!!! Tired, bruised, covered in needle pokes and bandages, and 83% immobile, but still, I'm alive.

The Adventures of Surgery at College: Day 1

At 8:20 am, Catherine, Hannah K, and I loaded into Clarke (my car) and drove the terribly long three minute-drive to the hospital. (On good days, I walk there for my appointments.)
By 8:30, the three of us were back in Day Surgery, I was shown my room and a gown, and was settled into my new home (at least, home for nine hours). For the next hour, I laid back cheerfully as a menagerie of nurses, anesthesiologists, doctors and surgeons all took turns at talking to me, checking my monitors, hooking me up to a new beepy-thingy, or stabbing me with a new needle. Honestly, I thought it was cool. Most people don't go into surgery smiling. I always knew I was weird, though.
Right around 9:30, I was wheeled away into an operating room, moved to a new table and then...who knows? That's about where my memory stops. My next conscious thought?
10:30 ish: There's a mask on my face...my nose itches...I'm waking up?...Oh...I must have already had the surgery...weird.
That is always the most disorienting part about being anesthetized for me: realizing that at some point in the previous hour, without my knowledge, I was rendered unconscious, someone made four small holes in my tummy, did what they needed to do, stitched me back up, and waited for me to regain consciousness, and all I'm aware of is the before and after.
Obviously, this post will not involve pictures...
By the time I was wheeled back into my room, I was mostly conscious and aware of all that was around me. Catherine asked me how I felt, and then joked about how I wouldn't likely remember that conversation. Haha, I remember!!!
I have very little hold on what happened for the next seven hours, but it mostly consisted of me dozing off between visits from the nurse, feeling good as I was neither nauseous or in as much pain as expected, denying the morphine and later wishing I hadn't as the Lortab did almost nothing, and admiring all the little beeping noises and flashing lights that revolved around me.
At about 2:30, I was thinking I was feeling well enough to go, but agreed to trying to eat some solid food first. My goodness was that a bad idea. I had two bites of toast and few spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup, and I was done. My stomach hurt, I was suddenly nauseous, and I really, really wanted that next dose of pain-killers.
Finally, around 5:30, I was released from the hospital. I miraculously managed to tolerate the incredibly bumpy ride to the pharmacy, hobbled in, managed to make my point to the pharmacist enough to get the desired drugs, was shepherded home, and collapsed into my bed (which had been moved to the floor, thankfully).
A handful of people popped in and out of my apartment for the rest of the night, including neighbors and visiting teachers, and culminated in the arrival of my mother. I was SO glad she got to come! While I didn't sleep peacefully that night, I at least slept, and mostly free of pain.

Day 2:
At the beginning of the day, I felt good! I wasn't in the mood to eat much, and I was taking my pain-meds faithfully, but in truth, I wasn't in too much pain. Ok, I admit, I wasn't in pain, as long as I had a hot pad on my neck, an ice pack on my tummy, and I tried really hard to not move. More people swung by to say hi, I talked to family on the phone, and enjoyed my mom's company while we read on the couch. I was starting to think, 'Dang, I made my mom fly out here for nothing!', when the real pain hit. I was starting to get used to the idea that I could drug-up every four hours, but the pills would only last for three, when the three hour mark struck me. I took some OTC stuff to tide me over, and as soon as I was allowed to, took a vicodin. Then, because I was allowed to and hadn't yet, I took another. The pain was starting to scare me though; I thought there was no way I should be in this much pain after the medication. Mom sat with me for over an hour while we waited to see what would happen, and then I went to the emergency room. Once there, they cruelly made me wait an eternity (or maybe just five minutes, during the initial Q&A) before injecting me with some kind of magic happy drug that made me feel a whole lot better. Bonus, it also let me experience waking dreams for the first time. A set of Xrays and some bloodwork later, I was told my recovery was mostly normal, and that I only needed to worry if the pains happened again. I was allowed to finally go home, and once again, sleep.

Day 3:
I slept until about 10:30, ate a cinnamon role, called my ward calling companion, then went back to sleep until around 1:30. Best day ever.
Ok, not really, but all the same, I liked the sleep. I read some more, and tried to do some homework, but invariably fell asleep each time I tried. Mom made the best Sunday Dinner ever, that had boys poking their heads in to see what smelled so good. My home teacher came over later at night to meet me and my roommates, and to check on me, of course, and the Elder's Quorum president also dropped by to see how I was holding up. (Apparently my reason for missing ward council was made clear. My calling companion didn't want me to lose my ecclesiastical endorsement for ditching church)

Day 4:
I went to my first class of the day, Chemistry, and fumbled through making up what I had missed on Friday. Then I had the terrible task of taking my mother to the airport to say goodbye again. I'm so glad she came, and I'm going to miss her!
There are very few places to get food between Idaho Falls and Rexburg, and I pulled off at three different exits before finding one with a fast-food place. Almost as soon as I got off the freeway and pulled into Rexburg, I was met with the first frozen white precipitation-fall of the season. (There is still debate about whether it was snow or hail. While, yes, it did seem a little too compact to be snow, in my experience, hail is even harder and hurts when it hits you.) I struggled through another two classes, walked (very, very slowly) back to my dorm, and was ordered onto the couch for the rest of the evening by my angelic roommates. Unfortunately, I have to teach Indexing to FHE groups in an hour, otherwise I would listen, and never leave this couch again. Oh well, duty calls.

P.S. If you read through this entire post, have a cookie, on me.