10:00 AM surgery. Had to be there two hours early. Walked out and noticed the sky was blue and cloudless. Thought of the U2 song “Beautiful Day” because I just love U2.
Arrived at the hospital, registered, and received the coolest pager gizmo thing. It alerted me when I could go back and prepare for my fibroid surgery. It also alerted my husband when he could come back and sit with me.
Once in the back, I changed into a hospital gown but refused to put on that shower cap-looking head covering until the last possible moment. Would somebody please design some better hospital gear? The look is just not cool.
Got into bed and the adventure started. The nurse inserted my IV (didn’t feel a thing). Anesthesiologist arrived, checked my chart, and explained the whole “knocking me out” process. He had a good sense of humor which I always interpret as a positive sign.
My husband appeared and since he considered Methuselah immature, I thought I should warn him about my Gynecologist. Told him that the doctor looked really young but was very good. When my Gynecologist arrived, my husband started making faces and then mouthed the question “how old is he?” with such exaggeration that extraterrestrials circling the Earth in a spacecraft could read his lips. Of course my doctor, only a few feet away, had no problem and answered, “30 almost 31″. I just could not stop giggling after that.
The Anesthesiologist came over and gave me something that he said would probably make me giddy. Yeah. Like I needed encouragement on that front. Still chuckling to myself, I was wheeled into the operating room.
What do I remember right before the Hysteroscopic Myomectomy? Keep in mind that the drugs were starting to work.
- Seeing my doctor and asking him about a video. He told me he would make sure that I got a picture of the fibroid.
- Two people discussing the surgical equipment.
- Moving onto the operating table.
- Someone securing my right arm.
- A voice (I think my Anesthesiologist’s) asking to do the same to my left arm.
That was all. After that, out like a slow baseball player approaching home.
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