The surgery was a raging success. Raging success = this morning I got a plate of hash browns, a piece of french toast, some milk and oatmeal. At first, I thought it was some joke, I kept looking for the troll or some nurse to pop out and say, “just kidding, that tray isn’t for you! ha!” But, that didn’t happen. I checked the sheet and sure enough it had my name on it. So, I took a picture of it. Just then the floor manager/patient advocate person came along and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so happy to get their food.”
We joked about how momentous it was of a moment. And, it was. I ate most of the meal. It was both a strange and optismistic event. Eating and having everything go to the bottom and stay there was strange. It also led to me believe (as I noticed) that maybe I had eating/GI problems for longer than I thought. There was no rebound spitting or hacking up of random food item, everything I sent down stayed down there. It felt magical.
And, I felt good about the surgery. Yesterday I wasn’t sure as they starved me again. Wednesday afternoon I had the surgery and spent the evening in a post op drug induced stupor. Yesterday they gave me some apple juice but nothing more and so I figured more of the same would continue. But, I was told if I could walk around a bit I could get some of the contraptions removed, so I focused on that and chatted with the nursing staff & remarked often that I was ready to go home. I must say that I’ve developed a fondness for nurses and nurse techs, those poor people deal with an array of madness and most of ’em tolerate it with a smile and a loads of kindness.
I had the unfortunate luck to be placed in a room with a woman named Kim. Kim was probably in her 60’s and though I dislike racially derogatory terms, she fit the theme white trash quite well. She called everyone she knew (I’m assuming) to inform them she was hospitalized. Every call she made the story she told got grimer and grimer. By the last call she was “not sure how things were going” and her “kidneys were failing.” (By comparision the first call indicated she was having a minor operation to remove some kidney stones.) Mind you, no surgeries seem minor, the woman just seemed to revel in the moment.
I’ve never been fond of hospitals, nor did I find myself wanting to be there or wanting to call people and tell them about my pathetic state. Kim proceeded to annoy me by commanding the nurses around and pushing her call button after I pushed mine to then yell to my side, “did you just push your call button? I did too!” If I needed pain meds, she did too and remarked how painful her condition was, but we never determined what that condition was.
Fantastic. Thankfully, I was not bored during my stay. Kim was there to tell me about herself and ask me an array of inappropriate questions. For example, was that my husband that came? And was I married? Where was my family and what did I think about no one “calling” me. Also, how did I feel about people who didn’t shower (me) as she felt it was good to shower (this from a woman who did not bring a toothbrush and demanded food every 2 hours). I generally remarked in general terms and discussed my tendency to snore, my love for my child and my desire to eat everything that I could once I was able. She pretty much ignored my answers and talked about herself. She’s been disabled since 2004, “bad legs” and has two sons. One came to visit, I slept through it, but clearly she remembered that different as I later heard her tell Miss Robin (?) that I noticed her son told her what to do. (I know, evil of me to evesdrop, but it’s hard to ignore a bullhorn in a tea shop.)
Kim aside, I had a pleasant stay. The nurses were good, receptive and gave me pain meds even when I didn’t think I needed it. I embraced the, “better off asleep versus in pain” theory. I also embraced, “better to watch trashy tv in the hospital like at home versus pretending I have standards” theory. In the pre op room more than one staff person asked “what the heck is that” when they heard the language from for the love of Ray J playing or panting sounds from frolicking people in Desperate Housewives. That people is quality tv, that is the stuff I will hide from my child when he begins to talk, in the mean time-bring on the gunk!
Side note: I think I’ve had too much pain meds the last few days, my brain feels mushy..or is it the tv?
Anyhow, the eating thing rocks, even though I’m only a grade up to soft foods versus pureed, I’m still very happy. I’m so happy that I didn’t mind this morning when my surgeon banged on the bathroom door to ask how I felt about the surgery. After eating, I felt damn good. Even better when before noon they discharged me and said I was free to eat soft foods on my own. Rock on.
Happy Friday Internet.