I had minor surgery yesterday. Well, I guess they call it a PROCEDURE, and it was outpatient, but it was ON ME, and I always forget I'm a big baby about these things. I put on a brave face and was all practical about it.
"No, you shouldn't come with me. You'll just be sitting in the waiting room."
"No. Really. I'll call you when they're finished. I've got my book to read. I'll be fine."
[and to Linda-well, I call her Linda anyway. At least here I do] "I'll probably be in the office later in the day (after the surgery)." She laughed. I didn't see what was so funny about that. There was work to do after all.
But the doctor did not laugh. I had the wisdom not to mention my plan to go into work later in the day, but the NEXT day. "You said," I reminded him, "If I felt like it I could go into work the day after."
He rolled his eyes and headed to the curtain. "Take the day off tomorrow. You're having surgery today."
But...I thought it was a procedure.
What I learned yesterday:
*Drink lots of fluids the week of your "procedure". Apparently, not drinking lots of fluids makes you have "bad" veins which "blow" when the nurses try to insert an IV. I do not know exactly what a blown vein is, but I know it hurts. However, the nurses are very sorry about it, and they are very compassionate people.
*Be prepared to tell them when they ask you a hundred times, "No. I have not had anything to eat or drink since midnight last night." I did, however, eat a half a bag of microwave popcorn at 10:00 p.m. the night before. Big mistake as I was dying of thirst the next morning, and it didn't help the vein issue in the least.
*P.A.T. is the way to go. They find out all about you the day before your surgery, take your blood, and it's sort of like the cut-in-line pass at Disney World, except it doesn't cost extra. You can scoot right into the inner sanctum of the outpatient surgical unit.
*Gown improvement. I had surgery when I was a kid and remember those gowns which tied in the back giving everyone glimpses of my kid bootie. The gown yesterday actually had the slit closer to the shoulder blade, so a bit more modest. The breast pocket was interesting though. Why would a patient need a breast pocket? For pens and cigarettes? Cell phone? Ipod? Heart monitor? I didn't ask, but I should have.
*Two weeks without laundry duty-woohoo!!! Here's an interesting piece from my "after surgery" instructions. I'm not allowed to pick anything up which is heavier than a gallon of milk for two weeks. I asked my husband how much does a gallon of milk weigh? He responded, "Oh, probably 7 or 8 pounds. Gasoline weighs 6 and a half."
And, see, this is one reason I love him because he knows cool stuff like that. Yet, I had to know...
"How do you know how much gasoline weighs, and why is milk heavier than gasoline?"
"You have to know how much gasoline weighs when you fly a plane, and milk is mostly water."
He doesn't fly a plane, but he almost did a long time ago, except he had trouble landing, so that is why he teaches math now at the community college.
The point? The math teacher will be carrying laundry up and down two flights of stairs for the next 14 days. Oh, yeah!
I am doing okay today. I think the laundry guy hid my car keys in case I get tempted to see how things are going at work.
