Low Expectations & Post-Op

I had my surgery this morning and I survived! Here's a happy disco song with a survival theme, thanks to Gloria Gaynor. I am dancing in my mind. Or you could dance in your kitchen and I could vicariously live through you. Jack thinks I am dancing in my mind thanks to percocet or oxycodone whatever I am on. I also don't understand how Hemingway and Lewis Carrol wrote while medicated.

I am on narcotics while writing, so have low expectations. Speaking of low expectations, I had the worst expectations going into this. I remembered taking care of The Boy after he has his tonsils out. He was vegged out. I remember getting my wisdom teeth out. I remember child birth. Mostly, I remember the day of the injury and how incapacitated I was. My expectations were so low, that they have been greatly exceeded. I suppose that since I thought the worst case was death, being alive is a good thing. (Jack, The Boy and I are listening to disco while Jack reads The Martian by Andy Weir and The Boy is working on a Lego Wall*E.)

I did not want to be there this morning. I was in the pre-op room, and went to the bathroom. Even though I was in the hospital gown, I thought about making a run for it. The pre-op nurse was outside the door waiting for me on the pretext of helping me find my way back to my pod. I think he was checking on runners.

I have been surprised in many ways, and not pleasantly surprised in others.

• Pleasant Surprise: Dr. Tex was very kind and upbeat. He was in a jolly mood, like he was going watch (or play) in the big college football rivalry game and dammit, his team was going to win. I am glad this guy loves to cut. He is probably happier on OR days than on days when he has to meet in the office with middle age women who had skiing accidents.
• Pleasant Surprise: I was awake in the OR for about two minutes before I conked out.
• Mildly Unpleasant Surprise: Before I went into surgery, I was in the waiting room reading People. (Do people read this magazine outside of waiting rooms?) There was an article about Marie Kondo, the tidying queen from Japan. While I am attached to my clutter and I think there are thinks that don't bring us joy that we need, I recall the OR was like walking into the Room of Requirements storage closet in Harry Potter. Granted, I was starting the flow of narcotics. I might have been hallucinating, but the OR could have been tidied up. I could be wrong. Perhaps they could potentially need all of these million of tools close by. They probably need a surgical tool room librarians or a card catalog.
• Pleasant Surprise: I woke up gently, not in an altered state where I was rambling incoherently and thinking I had a dragon tale. It was like waking up from an awesome nap.
• Unpleasant Surprise: I think the team was very generous with the pain meds, which is good, except as soon as I woke up from this awesome nap, I my eyes slammed shut. I could kind of hear people, like I was in a half sleep state. I didn't expect to be so exhausted.
• Neutral Surprise: I could hear what was said during my half sleep state. I had a femoral nerve block while I was in a mild coma and the resident and anesthesiologist guided him through the procedure. They were very polite, not only to me, but to each other. "Move the needle to the left, a little deeper. Perfect. Perfect." Perfect is a great word to hear from a medical professional after surgery. Be nice and civilized to people who appear to be sleeping after surgery. If someone is asleep after surgery, make an assumption that they might be able to  hear you and remember what you say. Don't assume they will act on what you say, but don't be a jerk, i.e., "How soon do you think she will lose weight after this surgery?"
• Unpleasant Surprise: The narcotics make me nauseated. They gave me several of these rhino/hippo/elephant condom shaped things as a barf bag. I was not hungry or thirsty after the surgery. The good news is that it will be easy for me to lose the 10-15 pounds I gained since the accident if I can only manage to eat three bites of a croissant for lunch and a few tablespoons of rice for dinner.

• EXTREMELY Pleasant Surprise: I walked up awful 23 steps to my house using crutches and Jack standing behind me. I had a lot of practice after the accident, and watched a YouTube video. Up with the good, and use two crutches under the arm for support. All of my prehab paid off! I could bear weight on the bad leg and could hobble up the steps. It was raining and I was worried that I'd have to haul my drugged up, sleepy ass up those step,s the bane on my existence. Instead, I kicked it.* As Clare Adele would say, "Go me!"

I posted this picture of these horrible steps before, but here they are again. Imagine them wet and you have to crawl up them on your butt.  I hear you swearing.

• Unpleasant Surprise: They gave Jack pictures of my surgery. He keeps trying to show me. I don't want to see them. Do you? I thought not. Clare Adele is deathly afraid of vomit but looked at them the first time Jack asked to show them to her. The Boy is like me. "Do you want to see them?" No. I prefer seeing my body parts from the outside, thank you.
• Pleasant Surprise: Before I left the hospital, they gave me a nosegay/air freshener called "Quease | Ease" to wear on my shirt. It had a lavender and mint and chamomile scent and it is supposed to ease nausea. It also doubles as a deodorant since I can't bathe or shower for several days until they take the sutures out. I also have this awesome "Dry Shampoo" from my hairdresser. (I used it on the campaign trail when I didn't have time to wash my hair.) The good news? I don't care if I need a shower or not.

* While I am excited about this accomplishment, I never want to test how strong I am like this again. Just saying. And I'll probably have to go down the steps on my butt next time I leave the house.