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So Dr. D and Team are wheeling me away. He’s wearing his huge grin that is always plastered on his face and I’m terrified beyond all get out.

I remember being wheeled into the Operating Room. Seeing the GIANT Da Vinci robotic surgical machine Dr. D is about to use to perform my surgery. I also remember distinctly thinking, “I so should have asked for some Ativan or something to help me not want to bolt off my bed!”

I didn’t ask.

Luckily, one of the anesthesiologist thought ahead and she came over and gave me some “happy meds”. I have no idea what it was. I only know that it made it into my IV. I made it from my bed onto the table. And that’s all that I remember.

And that’s how I like it. :-)

After that I remember waking up in Recovery with some of the nicest nurses I’ve ever had in my life and some of the worst pain I’ve ever had in my life. I managed to ask a nurse to make a list of all my Recovery Nurses for me so that I can tell the hospital how wonderful they all were to me.

Then when it came time to move me to my hospital room (I was expecting to go back to my Out Patient room) I over-heard my room number and then one of my nurse said, “Wow! She got one of the nice rooms.”

So I was all excited and I wanted to enjoy the ride to my room. That so didn’t happen. (lol)

I remember the comment. Then I remember being wheeled into my room and my nurse asking if I had come alone. I told her I had a husband. She said she would page the hospital as a whole if necessary to find him for me. Then I saw his shoes under the curtain and yelled, “He’s here!” She seemed hesitant to take the word of a screaming woman fresh out of surgery on a drug-pump. (Did I mention they put me on a pump I could push every 8 minutes for a narcotic – not morphine because I’m allergic to that – of some kind? They did. It was nice.) But then Rob and my Mom confirmed my story and the nurse was pleased.

I didn’t know it then but this was to be an issue with the Surgical Unit. They would always be demanding more than I could deliver.

I honestly have no concept of time or anything close to it for most of Wednesday.

  • I know that Dr. D made his “Let’s do this!” declaration at 1:30-1:45pm.
  • I know that I drifted off to sleep at 9pm and 12am.
  • Then I woke up for good at around 4am because I couldn’t go back to sleep anymore.

I don’t know what time surgery actually started. Or ended. When I entered Recovery. Or my Room. I don’t know how long my Mom or Rob was there.

I remember making Rob pinky-swear that he would sleep in our bed where he could stretch out and not just pass-out on the couch. Or maybe that was in my head, who knows.

The last thing I remember for sure (besides random pushes of the magical happy button and other random medical stuff) was Rob and my Mom having a discussion about how my eyes looked like they were silver and not blue-green. I know this conversation happened because I asked Rob to be sure. (lol)

Aside from that, Wednesday had come and gone.

Much like my uterus and Aunt Flow.


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