March 9th

Did I ever tell you how much I hate surgery. Probably not, since before last Friday, I had never really had surgery. There was no experience on which I could base a real hatred, so it never existed before. This has now changed completely.
After having to wait 6 weeks because of a mistake, I finally start my fast at midnight to gain approval for anesthesia. They gave me a "happy pill" so I could sleep. I slept so it must've worked.
The problem is that the "happy" part wore off around the time I got to the office.
I usually don't have much trouble with needles, I don't like them, but I've never had to be stuck more than once. This time, was very different. It took three tries. I don't necessarily blame the nurse. At least not for the second try. I moved, because after the first attempt, quite simply, I freaked out. They tried to calm me down, they being my husband and the nurse. I tried to act calm, but it's hard to do when you're scared to death. I'm not sure what I was afraid of.
Shortly after they got all the paperwork done, it was time. I walked to the OR and they had me lie on the table. I was alright at first, but after they all introduced themselves, I lay back on the table and started to cry. My doctor is such a sweetheart, he came over and rubbed my hand and held the oxygen mask over my face. He talked to me for a minute, then a nurse came and did the same thing.
Then I woke up. I couldn't really feel anything. I could hear the nurse talking. She was saying that Mike had good timing. Then he was standing by the bed. They were asking me how I felt. I didn't really feel anything quite yet, except that I was warm and bundled up. After the nausea and dizziness mostly passed, they walked me to the truck and we went home.
The past several days have been interesting. Some times are harder than others. I'm honestly sick of sitting on the sofa! I had to stop taking some of the pain meds because they were killing my stomach. And now I'm just waiting for time to pass, healing requires patience.