Post-Op

**I apologize in advance for the length of this entry...  Had a lot to say, I guess.

I survived surgery.  Does that sound dramatic and stupid?  Especially with what is considered an "easy" procedure (and I'm thinking this is meant physically easy, not psychologically or emotionally).

I was really nervous about it.  I'd never had surgery or any form of anesthesia before.  And I'm such a worrier.  It's in my genes.  My mind was plagued with "what if I don't wake up" thoughts.  (Although, now that I've experienced it, that may be a preferable way to go compared to some other ways...).

So I didn't go to work yesterday (obviously).  Jeremy and I slept in until about 10.  He is on swing shift, so we are up late.  It is good to get that sleep-in time.  Plus, I think we needed it mentally.  At least I did.  I'd been prepped on what to do an not do.  So I hadn't eaten since about 11:45 the night before, and wouldn't be eating until after surgery.  I also had to shower before leaving -- to get off extra germs.  I opted to not wear contacts, and they said I should wear loose-fitting clothes, so I wore a big t-shirt and my loose pajama pants that I love.  And flip flops.  We got to the hospital at noon.  Keep in mind, my car is dead.  We've been trying to start it for the last 3 days, mostly just to move it so we can put Jeremy's car in our one parking spot, and no dice.  So we are driving Jeremy's little 1988 Honda Civic.  I will say, that car is a trooper.  It always starts.  So I checked in and they got me back to the surgery waiting rooms pretty quick.  I had my hospital tag on (first one ever -- well, since my own birth some 31+ years ago).  Got to strip down to nothing but a hospital gown and red socks.  Now there's some fun.  And they started my IV.  Another first.  (And in case any of you were wondering, none of these things were really on my bucket list...).  The nurse had to poke me twice.  The first vein she tried on the top of my hand blew.  And this was probably the worst part of the whole thing, to tell the truth.  So I ended up with my IV at my wrist, and for the first hour, it was sort of a nuisance.  It bothered and I could feel it quite a bit.  But that may have also actually been the vein that blew and that puncture that I was feeling.  The nurse was rather apologetic.  And though all that poking and stuff wasn't really my idea of fun, I know it was unpleasant for her too, and I wouldn't want her job!  So they got me set up and I was able to just lay there.  Jeremy was in with me the entire time until they took me into surgery.  He was actually very calming.  Well, for the most part.  There was the time he decided to play with the medical equipment and put the pulse measure thing on his finger... which automatically turns on the monitor and starts measuring and beeping his heart-rate.  I guess I got pretty excited ("Jeremy!  They're probably monitoring that from the nurse's station!" etc etc (they don't call me drill sergeant for nothing, ya know...)), because Jeremy was watching my IV and said I sucked up some liquid fast at that point.  Hmmm...  And just in case you have never had the privilege to have an IV... it results the same as drinking fluids (which I was not allowed to do at this time...):  I had to pee.  Sorry if that's uncouth.  But seriously.  So Jeremy had to go get a nurse who had to walk with me to the bathroom carrying the IV bags and tubing while I covered my derriere.  Good. Times.  But anyway, aside from the whole Jeremy putting the pulse thing on his finger and then making the machine alarm when he took it off (all I can say is don't leave a curious engineer in a hospital room for too long, even with his wife), he really did help keep my mind off things.  We talked about cars, houses, random stuff like the time he chopped into his finger to the bone with a machete, but figured he'd just wrap it up with tape and "not show Mom" (he was about 9), that we could use the McDonald's coupons on the way home if I felt like it.  And we used that time to read our scriptures (the Ensign) for the day, since we really didn't know how I'd feel later.

My surgery was originally scheduled for 1.  I think they finally took me out at 3:45 to take me into surgery.  I'm guessing the surgery started around 4:00.  All I remember was them having me lift myself onto the operating table from the hospital bed and slide up a little bit more.  And I was out.  I don't remember a thing after that.  And it's weird.  One reason the idea of alcohol has never appealed to me any way is the whole not remembering what I did with my body (or what someone else did with my body).  There are other reasons, of course.  One being my religion.  But that whole unknown thing...  Freaks. Me. Out.  So I'm not all gang-busters about the time I was knocked out.  But, I am happy to have woken up.  Which was the next thing I remembered.  I had talked briefly with the anesthesiologist before I went into the OR and I told him I was nervous and had never been under anesthesia or had surgery before.  He smiled and said he was having a good week.  Haha...  It's different, the whole sensation of waking up like that.  I was in a different place from where I last remembered.  I know I shed a couple of tears (which I hadn't anticipated doing) in front of the nurse as I asked what I had asked many people (including both doctors and a nurse from before):  was there any living baby inside?  I don't know why I would ask such a thing, and now I'm not even sure that I did ask it; or even if I asked it after waking up or maybe if I managed to ask it before I fell asleep.  Well, I do know why I would ask.  I was terrified of that possibility, even though I know what the ultrasound said.  That thought just seemed horrific to me.  "What if..."

Time was strange.  I don't know when I got out of surgery.  Jeremy said the doctor went and told him all was well; and then Jeremy called my dad to let him know I was in recovery.  Jeremy said he still waited about 45 minutes after that before they went and got him.  So I don't know how long I was out, really.  When I finally put my glasses on and saw a clock (while the nurse went for Jeremy), it was 5:10.  I found out I was legally under the influence for the next 24 hours (so much for work today, since I couldn't drive... and as it stands right now, I'm still legally under the influence for another hour -- guess there's a first time for everything!).  I got dressed after Jeremy was back with me and he signed the paperwork I wasn't allowed to sign (not legally binding in my state).  I wanted to use the bathroom before leaving, and I didn't want to use a wheelchair.  Well, Jeremy went for the car and told them to wheel me out.  Grr...  Although he probably did that because I was a little more wobbly than I thought and I whispered that to him so as not to let the nurse hear (but I guess he was the wrong one to whisper it to ;)).  I called and texted everyone to let them know all was well.  We did stop by McDonald's (my with my hospital wrist band still on and the gauze over the IV puncture spot...  I'm sure I was a sight).  And perhaps it seems odd for us to stop at McDonald's.  Well, this is the first time in the entire life of our relationship that we've gone to McD's.  And we have coupons I bought to support the Scouts.  And I wasn't going to cook dinner.  And I was hungry.  And so was Jeremy.  Though he never really said so, I know the day was emotionally and mentally taxing on him.  I know this, because he took a 3 hour nap after we ate dinner.  And after I cried more.  I have grieved this a lot.  I thought I had finished grieving.  But there were more tears last night.  The sorrow.  The loss.  The hurt.  Even if I know there is a reason for all of it (in the big picture of my life and the opportunities for growth I will be given), it is still sad.  Still disappointing.  I didn't anticipate so many tears.  Jeremy just sits with me and holds me and wipes my tears and tells me it will all be okay.  After I had calmed down, I just wanted a shower.  And that's when my sweet husband fell asleep on the couch.  After my shower, I laid in the bed and did some stuff on the computer and started to read.  But Jeremy woke up and came in and snuggled with me.  And so we slept until 10:30p.m. (thus I got 2 hours of sleep and he got about 3).  Then we got up and ate brownies and ice cream and started looking at cars.  We were back in bed by 2 this morning and slept until 10.  It's been an emotionally draining few days for us.

Because I could not drive, I did not go to work today.  But one of the realizations I had as I was crying last night was that I really didn't want to go to work today anyway.  I wanted to just be at home.  Be with my husband.  I feel better now.  But that's how I felt last night.  And as I reflect on this whole experience...  Well, truthfully...  Truthfully I have felt a lot of emotions.  Probably some (if not all) the stages of grief.  I realized as Jeremy was driving me to the hospital yesterday that I was angry.  Angry with my Heavenly Father for giving us this trial instead of giving us a healthy baby in January.  Angry that He would allow my car to die the very week we are already dealing with this.  And even angry with myself for failing us and our baby.  Because even if that isn't true, I still feel it at times.  And no, it's not right.  I have been blessed abundantly, and I still know what I know.  My Heavenly Father loves me and He loves Jeremy.  And He has a plan for us.  I don't understand why this is part of that plan.  But it is.  And one day, I will understand.  I don't feel so angry as I sit here now.  Perhaps that was short-lived.  But I did feel it.  And I don't want to.  I don't want this to make me bitter.  Life is hard.  Everyone has struggles and hardships.  And it is what we do with them that shows us who we are.  And so, after writing all this (and I hope this isn't disturbing or tasteless to write... this is a form of my journal, and this is my life and what I'm experiencing now.  And I realized that I really respect and appreciate the candidness on some of the blogs I read, and I am choosing to be candid here), I also want to end with some things I am truly thankful for.  That I have realized in the last week or so how grateful I am for them.

My dad.  My dad loves me.  He worries about me.  He called me Tuesday evening to tell me he saw the pictures of the house I showed him that Jeremy and I are looking at and that it looks nice.  Is that really why he called?  No.  I could tell.  I could tell by the gentleness he used in speaking with me.  I could tell by the way he said, "I love you, hon" when he hung up.  I could tell that he just wanted to hear his little girl's voice again before she had surgery.  And I love him for that.  He is a wonderful father.  And I married someone a lot like him.  And so I know I married a wonderful man who is a wonderful husband and will be a wonderful father.  I am also grateful that my dad foresaw a need for his children to learn how to drive a standard transmission.  He taught almost all of us how to drive one from the get-go; telling me that, if I could drive one of those, I could drive anything.  And look at how that has come in handy!  My car has quit twice now since I've been married to Jeremy, and we've had Jeremy's car as a back-up.  But what would I do if I didn't know how to drive a stick-shift?  Thank you Dad, for preparing me in that way.

Speaking of cars...  Okay, I'm 100% frustrated with the timing of my car dying.  But it's far better timing than if it had died 2 years ago.  I didn't have Jeremy in my life then, and I wouldn't have had the money to go buy a new one.  Both of those circumstances have changed.  And again, though it seems horrible to have this pile on top of an already difficult week, the truth is, because of the circumstances, I haven't driven Jeremy's car as much as I otherwise would have.  And he stresses over it because his car is older and it has a lot of wear and tear.  It burns oil pretty badly, and he worries the clutch could go out soon.  He doesn't feel safe with me driving that car, and he wants me in something more reliable.  So we hope to find something this weekend.  It is part of our prayers.  And I am reminded of a talk from the October 2011 Conference by Elder Cornish.  He spoke about prayer.  It was an awesome talk all around -- one of my all-time favorites now.  You can read it here if you so care to.  One of my favorite quotes from this talk is this:  "I am led to believe that our Heavenly Father loves us so much that the things that are important to us become important to Him, just because He loves us."  I believe that is true, too.  And so I believe that He will help us find the right vehicle.  And the right house that we can turn into a home.  I believe that, as we put forth our efforts, He will bless those efforts and be mindful of us in our endeavors.

I am thankful for Priesthood blessings.  I really was nervous about surgery.  I asked for and received a blessing of comfort and was assured that all would go well.  I am thankful for those who sacrifice to serve.

I am thankful for the job I have at this time -- and the boss I have.  I earn sick leave, and I know my boss is understanding.  She is awesome.  She is aware that I hope to have a family one day and I will quit work when that day comes.  She knows that.  And though she tells me often how much she doesn't want to lose me, she also tells me how much she supports my desires.  She once told me, "Hila, we work to live; we don't live to work."  She has never made me feel guilty for my plans to quit.  She hasn't penalized me for them.  She texted yesterday before I got out of surgery to find out how I was -- she is actually concerned for me.  What a great blessing that is!  That I don't have to worry that I will have problems for how much time I was off this week (I only worked one day).

And, as I always am, I am grateful for amazing supportive friends and family.  I have been richly blessed to know so many good people.  And it makes all the difference.