Back Surgery 11-16-09

At the hospital, I pre-registered and no, none of my information had changed since I was there a month ago. Same address, same medical history, same insurance. I filled out all the paperwork and signed on the dotted lines. Surgery was scheduled for Monday, November 16th...the first day back from Indianapolis and the wonderful time we had.

I was told to arrive at 6:30am, so we did...and then we were told to come back at 9. There had been some sort of scheduling conflict and no one bothered to call us. Shocked? I wasn't. We just headed home and got the kids off to school. I hated not being there to do that anyway, so it all worked out. Big Daddy and I headed back to the hospital and things went along quite quickly.

I was escorted to the pre-op area and yet again, Big Daddy was not allowed to come with me. I don't even know why to be honest. All they do is weigh me, get my vitals, and start the IV. Oh wait. Maybe that's why. Still, to this day, I do not understand why people refuse to believe me when I say "I am a hard stick". Is it some sort of challenge to a nurse to get an IV going on a "hard stick"? Is there a pool where everyone puts in fifty cents for every hard stick? While unclear as to the unwillingness to believe me, I am very clear that it took 7, as in s-e-v-e-n sticks for the IV to get started on this Monday. Seven sticks, people. Eventually, the winner of the Hard Stick contest was a neo-natal nurse who had been called down from her floor. Yes, boys and girls, I have baby veins. What a treat.

With the IV started, I was given some medicine to relax me. Of course, at this point I was more curious as to why I had not been given it BEFORE the seven sticks on the top of my hand, but whatever. It didn't work anyway. It never does. In fact, I am still waiting for the "relaxing medicine" to kick in and it's Thursday.

Big Daddy was brought back to me after the IV was going and all was well. I had requested a chaplain for prayer, but he never showed up or if he did, I don't recall. I was wheeled to surgery and Big Daddy kissed me goodbye. I lay there on my gurney thinking "this is becoming old hat"... While in the surgery room, as I was being put under, my right arm felt like it was on fire and I tried to ask if this was normal, but I was rendered unconscious before I could get the words out. That stuff is FAST! Seriously, if I had been experiencing some sort of deadly reaction, I would not have been the one to tell anybody...

Surgery went fine and Big Daddy and Lucy were waiting for me in the recovery room. I would tell you what everyone said but I have no clue. The next memory I have is from Tuesday evening as I searched for something to eat. Yes, I do recall saltines with real butter and some mashed potatoes...

My back seems to be healing just fine. Of course, it may just be the Percocet that makes everything seem fine, what do I know? LOL I must be super careful and take it easy, which sounds easy enough, however, I have been doing that for months now, so it is not as easy as you might think. At this point, I merely take the Percocet and go lie down. It puts me right to sleep and I stay out of trouble. The laundry waits, dinner is not cooked, and the onslaught of mail just piles up...but I rest and that makes everyone happy.

There will come a day when I am well. Well enough to do all the things I took for granted before cancer, before back surgery, before the yellow warning light of my life turned red. I will walk my dogs again... I will shop Wal-Mart again... I will drive myself around town again... I will visit friends again... I will go to work again... I will make vacation plans with my family again...

I have decided that God has very big plans for me otherwise, what would He be preparing me for? I need to be ready...maybe resting up is a good idea after all.