All better now?

My surgery is over and done with! I have been worrying about it since April? March? Ever since I found out that I had high calcium and what that means. And now it is July 25th and the surgery is completed. What a relief. I have a beautiful incision in my neck, longer than I expected it to be (maybe a resident made a mistake) and I will have the scar from that for the rest of my life. People will look at me and assume I had thyroid surgery.

The best thing about it, of course, was that my sister Nonny flew out to help me. I don't honestly see how I could have done it without her. People from my book group had volunteered to help if I needed help, but I feel as though only a family member could really have done this. She flew in Thursday evening and took the bus from the airport to our house, so I didn't have to do that drive. The kids and I were so happy to see her! We hadn't seen her in three years.

She took my car to her hotel and brought it back the next morning at 4:40 am, so that we could make it to the Anschutz Outpatient Pavilion by 5:30 am. At least there was almost no traffic at that hour. We went up to the pre-op check-in, only to learn that we were in the wrong place. So we walked down an enormous hallway to the right place, only to learn that Nonny was supposed to have gotten a wristband downstairs when we came in. At this point I was wondering why I thought it was so necessary to have the surgery done at Anschutz, since they seemed to be all mixed up, but things got better. Nonny went down and got her wristband, I got checked in, and pretty soon they called my name. 

We followed a nurse to a little cubicle where another nurse took over and started asking questions. We were amused by the fact that her name was the same as our oldest sister -- where was our second oldest sister, we wondered. Nonny even asked one of the nurses if her middle name might be Barbara. The nurse looked startled, so we explained. That nurse's name was actually Esther, which was the name of one of our aunts, so we decided that was good enough. Still, I kept my eyes open for a Barbara.

Much research on successful surgical outcomes has been done since the last time I went under the knife, so some of the pre-op procedures were new to me. For instance, the day before surgery I was supposed to take a shower using a brand-new bar of antibacterial soap, dry myself in a freshly-washed towel, and then sleep in freshly-washed nightwear between freshly-washed sheets. Then, the morning of the surgery I was supposed to take ANOTHER shower (OK to use the same bar of soap) and dry myself on ANOTHER freshly-washed towel. I did my best to follow these rules, but I have to admit that I used the same towel for both showers, and my brand-new soap wasn't antibacterial -- it was peppermint Castile soap from Trader Joe's. Also, Teen B and Mr. Merlino lay around on the bed after I'd washed all the sheets and pillowcases, so that probably cancelled that out too. But I tried.

Once in the cubicle, I had to take off all my clothes and wipe myself off with gigantic wipes. Nonny helped with my back. Then I had to put on a gown and special socks. Even though I was wearing almost nothing, I felt hot and sweaty -- from nervousness and the wipes, I think; also, it was quite warm in there. Also, I'm fat and I feel the heat. Finally I stuck my feet out from under the blanket and that helped. The nurse wanted me to take off my wedding ring, but I didn't think I could get it off, so she just put a lot of tape on it, for some reason. She also painted the insides of my nostrils with iodine.

I was visited by a large number of people, because this is a teaching hospital. Another nurse came in to put an IV in my left hand. The anesthesiologist and two anesthesiology residents all visited, as did my surgeon and some residents who would be assisting him. Nonny thought my surgeon seemed nice. I was amused by how young everyone seemed -- except the surgeon, who is just about our age, I figure (he graduated from college in 1983, whereas I graduated in 1982 and Nonny in 1984). 

Finally the nurse whose middle name wasn't Barbara wheeled my bed off to surgery. I was just slightly embarrassed when we entered the operating room, because there were about 10 young people in there, all wearing green scrubs, and for a moment I thought they must be disappointed to see old fat me. I was of course the star attraction, the reason for them being there that day, but it didn't feel that way. Just an old lady. However, they were very nice and immediately started doing things, getting me to scooch over from the bed to the table, putting my hair in a cap, wrapping things around my legs. Then the anesthesiologist said it was time to push the button...

...and I woke up in recovery with a big smile on my face. Seriously, I was so happy when I started waking up. I felt soooo good. Euphoric. I've never felt like that when coming out of surgery. I don't know what they gave me, but it was some good stuff. I told the recovery room nurse (who was also not named Barbara), "I feel really good," and she laughed. She brought Nonny in to see me, and they both were amused by my smile.

Of course, after a little bit I had to sit up and get dressed, so that was sad, though the nurse did give me some water and delicious apple juice which made me happy all over again. Then she pushed me in a wheelchair down to where Nonny had brought the car, and then poor, sleep-deprived Nonny drove me back to Boulder while I tried not to doze off (I got a good nap later). 

It's a little weird to think about the surgery. They told me ahead of time that I would have two other IVs put in -- one in my right hand and one in a foot. In fact, when Nonny and I examined me later, I had holes in both feet, so either I had an IV in each one, or one didn't work out so they tried the other. My right hand has lots of blood under the skin, so I think they were sloppier with that IV than the one they put in while I was awake. I also knew I would be intubated -- my throat is still just a little sore from that. We're not sure whether or not I had a catheter. But it's weird to think about my body being completely knocked out and all those green-clad medical personnel doing things to it -- putting in breathing tubes and IVs, cutting a slit in my throat. You really have to trust your surgeon to want to put yourself through that, make yourself so vulnerable.

Nonny stayed one more day, helping. She made a blueberry pie (behold the last slice, gone now, of course), cleaned the litter boxes, ran the dishwasher and put the dishes away, and swept the floor. Then she caught the 5:38 pm bus to the airport on Saturday, so now I am on my own (well, with the twins, but it's the same thing, practically). It was absolutely wonderful to have her here, just so special.

Last night I felt like I was getting a UTI, and I still feel like that today, but it's weird, so maybe something else is going on. Nothing's ever simple, right? But I think as long as I don't take an opioid painkiller tonight, I'll be able to drive tomorrow -- to the grocery store to get cranberry juice? To urgent care? I don't know, we'll see. Nonny thinks I might be having bladder spasms due to hypocalcemia, so I'm going to take an extra dose of calcium tonight. I'm already taking six pills a day, but you can go up to eight if you're having weird symptoms.

According to my discharge instructions, I should take 7-10 days off work after this surgery, but since my job is running the household and taking care of the twins, that's not going to happen. But I do plan to take things easy this week. I feel like I already might be mentally better, but we'll have to see about the physical side. Little by little, I hope things get better.