Surgery is done!

I'm blogging from my hospital bed while Mr. Salted goes out to get himself some dinner. (I have been provided with ice chips, Diet Snapple, ice water, chicken broth, and Jell-O, and every bit of it tastes like manna from heaven.) It's wonderfully quiet now in the hospital, all the noisy visitors from earlier have gone, and there is not as much staff buzzing around. I'm on the eighth floor and it's a beautiful sunny evening, and I even lucked into a private room.

I logged onto Facebook shortly after I got settled to tell everyone surgery went well and there were so many messages of support that I felt like Sally "you really like me" Field for a moment. Mr. Salted's brother, who I've yet to meet, even sent me flowers! Our friend Izaqueen (for the record, that is a nickname, but a fitting one) came down today just to sit with him and visit with both of us. She stayed for about eight hours, and we actually had a great time just shooting the bull. The hospital staff have all been extremely nice and helpful, comprised of people in every color of the rainbow and every conceivable age group--a beautiful, beaming woman who was 80 if she was a day even delivered my flowers. They all appear so different from one another, but they obviously love what they do and just radiate that love. Maybe it's the Dilaudid talking, but as surgeries go, this one could have not have gone better. Everyone has taken the time to explain why things are necessary and just been perfectly lovely in general. Mr. Salted wants to stay the night with me, even if he has to sleep in an uncomfortable chair. They just announced that visiting hours were over, and he isn't moving a muscle. It is so wonderful just to be taken care of well, both by professionals and by my loved ones. My heart is so full of gratitude, and is there any better feeling in the world than that? I doubt it.

We checked in this morning at 5:30, spending about an hour and a half with a cheerful, funny former military nurse--he was even a Trekkie, much to Mr. Salted's delight. He had to put an IV in, but it was the easiest IV I have EVER had by a mile (his secret was to wrap the wrist in a hot towel and to have me close and open my fist for about five minutes before he stuck me. I will definitely remember this trick for future reference.) They then took me to the pre-op room, where I met my anesthesiologist, put a sterile bonnet on me, and before I knew it, I was in the operating room. My surgeon came by and chatted for a moment, and I woke up in the recovery room. It took me a couple of hours to come out of it and get lucid; I always get really bad chills, and I was definitely groggy. Then I ended up in my little room here.

One of the hardest things is coughing to clear my lungs, and they are making me wear little tubes pumping oxygen that go into my nose into my nostrils, which is driving me batshit. (They found out I had sleep apnea, and this is my penance.) I also have to blow into this contraption once every hour to further clear my lungs. (Mr. Trekkie Nurse had enlightened us with an interesting tidbit--anything that you eat or drink can end up in your lungs during surgery if you don't fast as you are instructed to do. Yikes!) They told me not eat after midnight, and it was the damnedest thing--I woke up a bit hungry at 11:56 pm and enjoyed a protein shake, getting as full as I could at the last minute, but still not breaking the rules. Speaking of rules, after all my angst about the g-d low carbs, the doctor was pleased with what he saw and my pre-surgery weight loss.

The only pain I am really having is in my stomach, which totally makes sense. The incisions, though small, hurt a little, but my insides hurt like hell if I have to bend, such as to get out of bed or onto the loo. I have already done two laps walking around the floor, and the worst that happens when I stand upright is just feeling like a stitch in my side with a wee stab of pain, and that's after I've walked a few minutes. I hold my breath for a second, then just keep going. They are keeping me pumped full of narcotics, but I am having to have a Benadryl chaser with it because there is some skin itching. (The only drug I seem to be able to have without itching is Demerol.) They tell me all my vitals look fantastic and that I will definitely be going home tomorrow. :) Yay!

I'm just so happy. It's done! I know I have a very long way to go, but I am so full of hope (and gratitude, and love) right now that I could explode. I feel so fortunate to have been given this second chance to treat my body the way it should have been treated all along.