I had minor, elective surgery the other day. I’m still a bit sore, but no worries, I’m good as gold and right as rain (I wonder, has rain ever been left? Random, I know, but it is Wednesday and it’s my day to ramble so I will do just that).
Anyway, the experience was positive, although I think it’s part of the reason I’ve been so keyed up and anxious over the last few weeks. I feel calmer already, which is a true blessing.
I don’t particularly like hospitals, but I’m always fascinated by the hustle and bustle of them. They are an interesting setting for people watching. For instance, the lady who was in the pre-op bed beside me is exactly 10 days younger than me (I overheard her give her birth date to the nurse). She’s also been clean and sober for 3 years (ok, those curtains do not provide much privacy, not my fault but I feel the need to mention her achievement even is she never knows about it, it still needs to be acknowledged and celebrated).
Later when they wheeled me into the hallway to wait for the OR to open I got to see behind the scenes. I heard the banter of the doctors and nurses. Someone’s dog just had puppies and one of the docs begged the nurse not to tell his wife because he knew she would want one.
A couple of the surgeons were wearing long, green hospital gowns over their scrubs. As they walked the hallway the gowns would billow and it reminded me of a superhero’s cape. I wonder what E (from The Incredible) would say about that.
During my pre-op interview I was quizzed about past surgeries. Yay, me! I remembered them all, including the tonsillectomy I had when I was 20.
That was an interesting experience. My friend, who had hers 2 years prior at the age of 18 warned me about how horrible it would be. “It’s so much harder when you’re older. It hurt. A lot.” (why do we do that? Tell people the worse case scenario? I’m bad for it. I do it and don’t even realize until the damage is done and then I find myself back peddling and apologizing profusely; we are a strange people, well, at least I am).
At the time, tonsillectomies were still considered a child’s surgery so they sent me to the children’s pre-op room. I will admit, I loved the decor. Rainbows, and fun little characters on the walls and windows. I did not, however, like the gurney they put me on. I think I’ve mentioned before I’m fairly tall, around 5’10”, depending on who you ask (I’ve been told I’m everywhere between 5’8″ and 5’10 1/2″ *eyes rolling*).
I filled that gurney from one end to the other. When they got me in the operating room the doctor asked me to move, I remember asking him “where to?” In the end my feet were hanging slightly over the edge of the bed. It was good fun.
Recovery wasn’t nearly as bad as my friend made it out to be. All the Popsicles I could eat – yummy! And two days later I was eating dill pickles and chips. My friend’s response to my speedy recovery – “Holly, you suck”.
Why yes, I did. On Popsicles and dill pickles.