surgery is easy, comedy is hard

...and it’s done… my surgery. The most competent, kind, caring staff at Kaiser removed that pesky little cancer and a couple of lymph nodes for good measure. The worst part of it was, no coffee... and I'm not even kidding. We (my darling, wonderful husband and I) had to be at Ambulatory Surgery (’sounds so official!) at 7:30 am with the patient eating or drinking nothing after midnight. The no eating part was no biggie, I’m not generally a breakfast eater… it takes too much time away from drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and being on Facebook… but no drinking?!?! And by that I mean of course, no coffee. Yikes!
We arrived early, owing to the lighter-than-expected traffic on 680, and checked in. The only other people there were a mother and her three children all under the age of 5 with volume levels all over the setting of 10. Not terribly calming, but I was just jealous they had so much energy and I felt like shit. It was the longest I’d been up with nary a drop of caffeine since I was 10 years old.
After a brief wait they sent me to get wired… not the good kind of wired, either. They literally stuck a wire in me so the surgeon could more easily locate the cancer… then, why more mammograms, of course! I have new respect for my left breast… A delightful woman came to wheel me into pre-op. I asked her if she’d like my husband to push the wheelchair as we seemed to be going excruciatingly slow. “Oh, no! It’s electric! This is as fast as it goes!” Who knew?
In pre-op, I had the best RN who popped me into bed with 3 warm blankets and a pair of socks I got to take home… they didn’t offer me my hospital gown, but who’s kidding who? It’s not as though I want to add that to my evening wardrobe. The rest is rather hazy... and I wasn’t even drugged yet. I was just so flipping tired, I was in and out of sleep for the next few hours. My most precious husband sat by my side. I felt bad I wasn’t my usual sparkling self and provide him with some company, but obviously I need coffee to sparkle.
A parade of medical personnel came by: the surgeon, the anesthesiologist, my OR nurse, Hawkeye Pierce (I’m pretty sure that was a dream) and probably a few more I don’t remember. I answered a barrage of (mostly the same) questions from many of them: What is your name? Date of birth? What are you here for? Are you allergic to any medications? Do you feel safe in your current living conditions? (My pre-op nurse pointed out the irony that they ask that question with the husbands standing right there. I assured her that I felt quite safe and that should I get hit — by anyone - I am quite prepared to strike back.)
There was a delay as the operating room wasn’t yet available. Everyone was apologizing to me for the wait… hell! What did I care? I was all comfy-cozy in a nice, warm hospital bed wearing jazzy new socks and had an army of trained staff making sure I was comfortable! It’s poor Steve I felt bad for! It’s harder to be the spouse than the patient. He had a hard chair, no blankets and was wearing the same socks he came in!
Anyway, I very vaguely remember them telling me it was time and the next thing I knew, I was awake and being offered juice. “Can I have coffee?” Nope, no coffee but Diet Coke was a welcome substitute… I was still shaky and Steve helped me dress. They sent us home with a plethora of instructions and a jar full of pain meds. Our first and only stop before hitting the freeway was, of course, for coffee. Gawd! Has anything, ever, in the history of the world, ever tasted so good?
I’ve been home for less than 24 hours and am on ibuprofen now instead of the heavy-duty stuff they gave me… I just don’t need it… I feel splendid! Well, not splendid-splendid, but splendid-for-just-having-surgery-splendid. No test results yet from the actual tumor or the lymph nodes but I’m optimistic. I can’t help it. It’s just the way I’m wired, I guess… that and I’m on my third cup of coffee...