cancer – day 693

Went under the knife again today. Exactly two years after the first surgery, isn’t that kind of morbidly ironic? For some reason, once I was in the room getting prepped with the IV and everything, I didn’t want my parents in there with me, I just wanted to be quietly alone. The nurse brought them in for just a minute “to say goodbye” she said, how weird was that? My Mom and I looked at each other incredulously and as soon as the nurse was back in the hallway, we were like, “ok then, love ya, bye!” That was so weird.

I got nauseous from the IV. Blood freaks me out since Artie’s horrific motorcycle accident. So they put this little patch behind my ear, and my stomach calmed down. My anesthesiologist was fabulous, he was either totally into me or totally gay (no offense) with the way he gazed into my eyes, like a puppy. He was great at his job though, and I eased away to sleep completely unafraid.

It took me a long time to wake up in the post-op recovery room. For some reason, my body doesn’t like taking back over the responsibility for my breathing, and the nurses are constantly stopping at my bed and telling me to breath, breath deeply. Post op is so weird.

They let me go home with the pain at a six because that’s a common pain level for the burning in my hands and feet, and it’s not like they were going to dope me up with morphine for a pain level that is awful but that I know how to live with. The ride home sucked big time, arggghhhhhh, so bumpy!