Blink...One Week Out...

Well . . . here we are.

One week post surgery.

It seems surreal after counting down the days, the anticipation, prepping everything for the holidays, that a week has flown by in the blink of an eye.

My surgery went smoothly, as hoped.  It was an all day affair, as expected.  My family and I arrived at the hospital really early to check in and get prepped.  Let me say. . .either the hospital really has it together or times have really changed since the last time I had surgery (maybe both).  The surgery section of Lexington Medical Center has television screens with patient identification numbers that alert family members of the status of patients (in pre-op, op., post-op). They also have beepers, that look like the restaurant beepers, which are given to family members.  Whenever there is an update, they page the family. Kinda neat. Anyways, I digress.

Once I was in pre-op, it was a waiting game.  Several nurses came in to ask the same questions over and over again. (What's your name and date of birth? Are you allergic to anything? What procedure are you having today? Good lord...should I be worried??) The surgeon, Dr. Boyer, came in and went over the procedure with me one last time. Finally, the anesthesiologist (or his assistant) came in and started rolling me back to the operating room. I was told on the walk down that she was putting something in my IV that would relax me.  I assured her (probably repeatedly) that I wasn't feeling any different.

Hey, I don't want to be one of those people who wake up in surgery.  Don't judge.

She adjusted my IV and I felt some warmth in my arm.  When we got to the operating room, it looked totally different from Grey's Anatomy.  It was bright, huge (almost reminding me of a warehouse or something) and there was no viewing room upstairs.

As we all know, Seattle Grace's (or now Grey Sloan Memorial) operating rooms are dark and more compact with a stadium seat viewing area.

I remember that one by one, people began standing around me at the table. When Dr. Boyer arrived, I remember him asking me about the date of my accident. I began answering him...

Blink.

I open my eyes in this weird, bright room filled with beds with a lady sitting beside me. She asks me some question, and I replied "I hurt." She adjusts my IV.

Blink.

I open my eyes again, and the same lady is telling me to breathe. I ask to see my family, and she tells me I need to breathe first.

Blink.

I am in another room, alone this time, with another nurse, who is again telling me to breathe.
FAMILY, lady, bring them to me. 

Blink.

This time, I open my eyes and Derrick is walking in the room.

Blink.

My parents have joined him. And that last nurse, is hovering either over me or at the door.
Stop telling me to breathe, I am obviously breathing. You are so annoying.

Apparently, between the anesthesia and the pain medication given to me afterwards, I wasn't breathing like I should have been. The nurses were standing guard to make sure that they would be able to release me without admitting me to the hospital. 

Finally, finally, I get the breathing thing down to their satisfaction, and I am released into the wild.

The first few days home were a blur. My parents stayed through Sunday to help me adjust post surgery.  My foot is wrapped up in this splint-boot type of contraption for the time being. I have to be extra careful because it is not as hard as a regular cast and I am not allowed to shower or bathe while it is on. (That could be AN ENTIRELY NEW post. My poor husband and child.) While my parents were here, I stayed/slept in the recliner downstairs. I pretty much slept the entire time, except when they would wake me to take medication or blow in this stupid plastic thing the hospital gave me to help clear my lungs. I know it sounds silly, but every time I was asked to blow in this thing, I would get furious. I don't know why. It irritated me. That's all I know. Like the kind of irritation that caused people to get throat punched. Those threats were made, just saying. The pain, however, has not been nearly as bad as the last time. THANK THE GOOD LORD.  It's almost disconcerting, because although I have moments that remind me of the surgery, I almost don't feel any different. With the exception that I am literally not mobile right now.

With my parents leaving on Sunday, it is now just me, Harper, and Derrick. And you know what? That is a really good thing.  Anyone who knows me, knows that I have always been able to rely on my parents a tremendous amount, especially for emotional support.  And, I always will.  I have learned something, though, over the last week. It is really tough for a husband to truly support and assist his wife when her parents are there trying to fill that role.  And, although I need my parents (and always will), I need my husband through this. And he needs for me to need him.

When I started writing today, I had all these stories filed in my head of the funny (and ridiculous) things that have happened over the last 7 days concerning Derrick.  Come on, we all know it happens...and I know people have said that they enjoy the funny quips that I have made in previous blog postings. But you know what? Not this time.

This time, I am just going to say that I really am thankful for my husband.  It isn't easy to be him right now.  He is working a full time job, and rushing home to take care of both his small child and his wife, who are both practically fully dependent on him for survival at the moment.  He is responsible for making sure every one is fed (including the two cats and one dog), bathed (ok, well not me, until next week. GROSS), entertained, put to bed, etc. etc. It doesn't help that I have periods of frustration because I can't take care of myself and my child the way that I want to, which I am guilty of taking out on him. And, you know what? Even when I do take it out on him, he stays calm. Irritating. Endearing.

The man has probably had 7 hours of sleep since Sunday, still keeps a smile on his face, still stays positive 100% of the time and he still tells me that I am beautiful several times a day. (Which...is a lie. I haven't showered in a week. Come on.) (I obviously have a complex over this.)

I am truly blessed.

(Definitely next time though, Derrick....everything is fair game...stayed tuned.)