Operation Day

I woke up fairly early, small people in the house do that and I appreciated that hubby dealt with the kids and kind of left me to my own devices. To pack, shower, zone out on Facebook. 

We dropped the kids off and headed to the hospital. Had to be there for a 10am admission, so no rushing. Was good and bad. I hate waiting, for anything, but it was nice to not feel rushed. 

Once I was there they did all the usual stuff, blood pressure (slightly high), weight (hospital scales waaaay kinder than mine), wrist bands, blah blah blah take a seat and wait. 

I kid you not, almost 2 hours sitting there waiting. Magazines were from the 90's (side note: for what I'm paying at a private hospital...update your bloody magazines) but finally I was called to undress and robe up. They even had 'larger sized' robes. Makes sense seeing as they do weight loss surgery, but was nice to know my arse wasn't going to be on total show for the world. 

I don't recall a moment of hesitation or nerves, but then I suspect hubby was nervous enough for us both. Maybe I felt like I couldn't show nerves or he might really freak out, but honestly, I just don't think I was nervous at all. 

I was taken through to pre op where my super sexy compression socks were fitted and these snappy little leg massager things. (Until the nurse decided the leg massagers were for the guy next to me instead. Bugger.) Oh but they did give me warm blankets. Amazing. I want a blanket warmer. The nurse also applied some numbing cream to both hands to help with the canula (my second worst hospital fear behind clexane injections) Hubby was allowed to stay with me there and then the nurses came for me, I could feel his nerves (fear perhaps) as he kissed me goodbye. 

Just quietly after a late night, early morning and those warm blankets I was seriously struggling to stay awake. 

The pre theatre room was freezing. No seriously bloody cold. Even my warm blankets weren't cutting it. I had my cannula put in (cream didn't help, stupid small veins) and my surgeon popped in to say hi. I asked him where he had been, he replied 'ummm in theatre' (I'm sure convinced I was mental) until I expanded with 'no you look really tanned, where did you go for holidays?' (Noosa if anyone cares). I asked what he would do with my stomach that he was taking out and if I could see it (cemented myself as insane) but sadly he said the hungry dogs he keeps out back would not be ok with that. 

Slightly off topic, but nurses! Seriously, the nurses who prepped me for theatre were amazing. Chatty, kind, warm. It's a gift to know the right thing to say at a time like that. Plus the new one who came back from lunch, gave me the most amazing warm blanket thing. It looked like paper (at this point I suspected I wasn't the only crazy in the room) until she plugged in a warm air blower something to the end. OMG best thing EVER!!!!

Not long after (it was about 2:30pm by this time) the anesthetist came in to do my artery cannula, but injected some 'jungle juice' (his words) into my other one. And that is the last thing I remember. Seriously, I don't even think it was the knock out stuff, (if you're in the know, please enlighten me) but I was out. Don't remember the art line going in, don't remember being wheeled into theatre. Nothing. 

The next thing I remember was the recovery nurse calling 'Mrs Phillips' apparently at one point I said to her 'No, I can't be at work today' (school teacher for those who don't know). I also remember desperately wanting to open my eyes but just couldn't. She asked about my pain, I suggested and 8/10 should cover it and she suggested some morphine. I happily obliged. I vaguely recall something about 'all the drugs. Just give me all the drugs'. 

After who knows how long, she informed me that the ward was quite busy and my blood pressure wasn't behaving, so I was going to be moved to ICU. Again, not a whiff of concern from me, but then I was high on morphine. She could have said she was going to just leave me out the front and I reckon I would have been ok with it. 

ICU was big and white. At the end of my bed was a desk with a computer and phone. And people just wouldn't shut up talking about me. I did ask for hubby and she said she wasn't sure he had been called (later reports from him are that he called hospital at 5, after fare welling me at 1pm, to be transferred to the main wing who told him I wasn't back from recovery yet). She asked if he would freak out that I was in ICU and I said, probably. Because of the phone at the end of my bed I heard her call and from her end alone, I knew he had panicked, just a bit. 

He had just got to his parents with the kids for dinner (was 6pm by this time) so he scoffed food and came in, with my pillow from home I'd forgotten that morning. I'm not sure how long after my mum and step dad came in too. God only knows what kind of drivel I was saying by that point. But I know I kept dozing off mid sentence. 

After visitors left, I dozed on and off, finally convincing the nurse to let me suck some ice. Ahhh never knew ice could be so good. Around midnight they decided to move me from ICU to the ward, (hooray, ICU was really noisy and according to hubby I was the only person in there) but instead of private room I was moved to a shared room in the high dependancy unit. The lovely older man who smiled at me in the waiting room and was next to me waiting in pre op was one of my new roomies and gave me a wave and smile as I was wheeled in. 

Sadly, the HDU was possibly louder than the ICU. 

On the plus side, I woke up with the cool leg massager things on again.