Death. Bed. (Surgery blows and other such nonsense.)

Hi.

Sorry I have been gone.
Mostly I have been sleeping, interspersed occasionally with bouts of work
I probably shouldn't have been doing.
(Got reprimanded on Friday. Awesome.)

I am on the mend.
It will be three weeks tomorrow, and all being told, I am feeling better day by day.

The lovely Leisha came with mrs. r to comfort me and to bring me goodies that I couldn't eat. (bless them) Leisha also brought with her a camera. Gotta love that camera.
Proof of my awesomeness.

Here is a picture of me after puking my brains out in front of another human being
(something I try to avoid).

The IV which inevitably turns into a bruise the size of Rhode Island (I still have one from when I had Millz.)

I like to call this one, "To avoid blood clots".
Which won out highly over, "I feel like my grandmother."



mrs. r gives me an arm massage as I drift in and out of dilirium.



So, anyway, back to the surgery. I was in the hospital for about two days, I went home early because I wanted the catheter out and to be off of the O2 and to eat human food.
(a decision I kind of regretted later...)

We got to the hospital at 8.

I signed in on a little kiosk just like at the airport self check-in. Then they gave me a pager like you get at restaurants. You know the kind that buzz when your table is ready.

I wasn't sure what to think.
As mrs. r put it, it was like battle of the 80's awesomeness between pagers and hairnets.

Not sure which was the cooler part of the day.

It seems on days I look my ugliest, I get the cutest of nurses and or doctors caring for me. There was a pretty cute nurse-in-training tagging along before the surgery...
eye candy is always nice when you are about to go under.

(Don't worry Hubbs was there with me, and I inform him when I find someone attractive.)
Please note I find Hubbs very attractive.
A post for another day.

As they wheeled me into surgery the last thing I remember was some old male nurse asking to
"trade your pants for a warm blanket."
Hmm.

That was around 9:00 a.m. The next time I can adequately recall remembering my eyes functioning and working with my brain was around 2:00 p.m.

I was so worried I wouldn't be able to see any of my kids for three days...especially little Millz who is still breastfeeding.

My doctor is awesome.

After much persuasion and going up the chain of authority, he claims he finally talked to Obama and he gave the okay to have Millz come into the hospital.

He said it had something to do with health care reform and trying to get a higher rating as prez.
(Meh.)

It was nice however to have her come in later that night to be with me for awhile, it wasn't without a fight. In my drunken state of anesthesia and morphine to the spine I can recall some hobbit type looking nurse with really short arms trying to convince me that my baby would die of "Swine Flu" if we brought her in...lol.

Then the really cool OBGYN...who is almost ready to have her own practice (love her if ya'll need a referral in a few years) came in and I told her how un-accomodating everyone was being...and she put the smack down, saying "Your doctor has it HUGE on your chart that you are a new mom and that your baby has the okay to be here!"
(empowered...I obliged and loved and cuddled my baby.)

The surgery went well. I had my post op last week and things are looking good.

Benign.

That is ALWAYS a good word in my opinion.

The surgery went really well, they were able to keep most of my ovary.

So another four weeks of recovery before I am released back to my full schedule of motherly, wifely, and photographer duties...and all will be well.

How am I feeling?

TIRED

What was it like?

Like having a c-section three months after having a baby.
(or so I am told by my doctor)

Thank you so much for all of your thoughts, prayers, flowers, cards, food and love sent our way.

We needed it.

I needed it.

(Hopefully my posts will make more sense after my recovery...still feeling grade-a dopey!)