post-op

Last thing I remember, I was watching the bubbles in the tube for my IV after they put the sleepy meds in, and the anesthetist was telling the twins they should ask me anything, I'd answer, and if not truthful, I'd at least be funny.

Then I was waking up, and the place where the tumor used to be hurt like the dickens. So I said, "Ow." Which, if you're me, with my high pain tolerance, is saying something.
When I'm awake enough, they wheel me to post-op and my family comes back in from the waiting room. I'm still saying "ow", and both mom and B are telling the nurse that if I'm telling them it hurts, I need something, NOW. But the nurse, she says I look too pale, like I'm in trouble, even, and she reaches for the oxygen. They talk her down, remind her I had the blue dye, and I'm naturally pale. So she says if I can keep something down (looks at me dubiously) then she'll bring my meds, but I have to eat first. I'm only half awake, and in pain, but she dumps a selection of cookies and crackers on my tray, and asks if I want juice, quickly running down a list of what they have. I choose cran-raspberry, and the graham crackers.

Twin1 reads me a chapter from the Book of Mormon (he's prepping to serve an LDS mission, and nearly done) to distract me, while he feeds me and gives me sips of juice. I don't feel at all nauseated, but until that nurse sees proof of that, I'm not getting any pain meds, so I eat and drink, as requested, in between mumblings of pain, mixed with occasional swears. Takes a lot for me to resort to swears. I tell the room in general that this is much worse than childbirth or anything that came after.
Finally, the nurse is convinced I'm not going to be sick, and she lets me have one Lortab, and gets me an ice pack to help take the edge off. In 1/2 an hour, if I think I still need it, I can have the other Lortab. Longest half hour of my life.

While we wait for it to kick in, I get Twin2 to come out of the corner and talk to me while he feeds me Lorna Doons, and gives me the rest of the juice. Twin2 is the stoic. Tends to keep stuff in, block things, and I want him to at least participate. He's a good boy, just not comfortable with strong emotions. He loves me. This is just hard for him.

Just before 2pm, after I've finished off two juices, a cup of water, and everything but the fig newtons, they decide I'm functioning well enough to go home. We gather up our belongings, send the boys out to the car, and get me up, dressed, and into the wheelchair for the short trip out to the car.