Friday, June 15, 2007

Ouch! The Surgery.

Preparing for surgery: What an adventure this was. From IV holes in my hands to the “support hose” on my legs, all the way down to the air compressed booties on my feet, this was certainly something new. I felt like some kind of astronaut with all of my “gear”. And, of course, Ryan was by my side taking pictures of the whole experience on his cell phone. Gotta love a comedian...

See how happy I look? I have no idea what is waiting for me on
the other side of the OR...

The lady bruised both hands trying to get the IV in, but she
called me "petite" so I let it slide.

I've got my cafeteria-lady hat and my astro-booties
and I was ready to go!

Soon it was time to wheel me into the OR. As we turned the corner, I saw a large dry-erase board to my right. Just like in Gray’s Anatomy, names were written under each room. I looked for my name frantically but before I could find it, I was whisked away in no time and into OR Room 2.

In the OR: I was asked to move myself from the gurney over to the operating table. Not exactly the easiest thing to do, but I managed to do it with whatever grace and dignity I had left (Although I’m pretty sure the anesthesiologist got a show in the process). Above me hung two lights the size of pizza pans. The room seemed empty and sterile. Then I was given some sort-of drug that made me feel loopy, which scared me. So, of course, I cried. Not the weepy, sobbing kind-of cry but a sad, pitiful cry – no sound, tears only. My right arm was stretched to the side with the IV and my left arm had the blood pressure cuff, which meant the nurse had to wipe my tears. How humiliating.

It only took a minute and I got myself together. Dr. Synn was fashionably late (what’s new) so I tried to make small talk with the nurses through my oxygen mask. Soon I heard that the Doctor had arrived. Next thing I knew, a cold feeling ran up through my right arm and I felt like I was slipping away. I actually said “thank you” to the anesthesiologist and waved goodbye to the nurses with my free hand. I am such a dork.

After the surgery: Now, I had told Ryan that I dreaded this part of the day. I told him how awful I would feel when waking up from surgery. I told him I would be tired, but uncomfortable, cold and nauseous. He said that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought it would be. He said it would be like waking up from a long nap. I’ll let you guess who was right…

As soon as I could open my eyes, I began asking whatever nurse was beside me, “Did I have endometriosis?” over and over. The problem was that my mouth hadn’t woken up yet so it sounded more like “Diidihaveendometriosis?? DIIDIHAVEENDOMETRIOSIS???” Needless to say, it took about 5 minutes for her to figure out what I was saying.

She looked at my chart and told me, no. There was no mention of endometriosis. I was crushed and barely listened to the rest of what she said while I cried silently for about a half an hour. Meanwhile, she tried to convince me that it was a good thing, that I didn’t want endometriosis, that this means I’m healthy. All I could think was I did this for nothing.

That’s when the nausea set in. I’ll spare you the details as you can probably imagine what it feels like to throw-up repeatedly for hours on a completely empty stomach that has just been cut into and patched back together. They normally expect you to be in the recovery room for about an hour and I was there almost four. Finally, I made it home and, you know what? I think I made it through pretty well. I was walking on my own that same night!

Today’s Thoughts: Now, with a clearer mind, I am able to comprehend what the nurse was trying to tell me in the recovery room on Wednesday. Although, my chart did not say “endometriosis”, what it did say was that the Doctor removed scar tissue, lesions, and possibly fibroids. He also scraped my uterus. Any one of these things can affect fertility. Basically I am all “cleaned out and ready for a baby”, as the nurse said. So this was a good decision. It wasn’t that I did this for nothing. Good things can come from it. I have grown fond of my black and blue stomach and my old lady walk. Battle wounds happen when fighting infertility. On July 9th, I will meet with the Doctor and will get the real story, complete with pictures and all. Then we will see what comes next…


Turns out, the nurse was overzealous in her analysis of the surgery results. She was probably just trying to stop my crying. For the real results of the surgery, see Post-Op Appointment .


I just have to say I am so grateful to everyone who has been such a support to me during this last week. Ryan was by my side the whole day; holding my hand, giving me popsicles and, most importantly, pretending not to be embarrassed as I threw-up for what seemed like the millionth time, this time right in front of the hospital. My mom spent Thursday cooking enough meals to last all week and stocking my fridge until I could hardly get the door closed. My dad called to check-up on me, leaving a voicemail message in a silly accent making me laugh. And many friends and family sent me emails and voicemails of love and encouragement. Thank you.

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