Going to Sleep and Yet Again Underwear
When Big I was around seven months old, I had to have surgery to get my wisdom teeth taken out. I had no room in my mouth and two of them were impacted completely, the other two partially impacted. They hurt, and I had no other option other than to get them out.
I had teeth taken out when I was a kid. My orthodontist recommended I get five baby teeth extracted to make room for the adult teeth coming in. I also had to have four permanent molars taken out because (you are never going to believe this) my mouth was just too small to accommodate all those teeth. They needed to fix the overcrowding before they could straighten things out.
So prior to having my wisdom teeth removed, I had been put to sleep for surgery twice. That did absolutely nothing to ease my fears about being put to sleep for my wisdom teeth removal.
It’s different when you have a baby, someone who depends on you. At the time of my surgery, I was still nursing Big I and that was troubling for me too. What if something happened and I didn’t wake up? She would be out her mother and her food source. I was an absolute wreck.
The day of the surgery, I remember the oral surgeon and the nurses watching me above their masks and I remember telling them that it was really important that I woke up again because I had a little girl. I also started laughing and told them that the oxygen thing they were putting over my nose was never going to fit over this nose. I was starting to feel a little silly at that point.
I don’t remember much about going home after the surgery. They had given me versed, a drug that knocks you out and gives you amnesia. My sister said the surgery took only 20 minutes and that she knew it was over because she heard me crying and moaning from the waiting room. Yeah, not one of my finer moments, but I don’t remember it so there.
I do sort of remember being helped walk to my sister’s car by my sister and a nurse. I kind of remember repeatedly asking my sister, "How long did it take?" and "What time is it?" to the point that she was ready to open the passenger door and shove me out.
My Mom is a nurse and she was shocked when my sister arrived home with me because I simply could not walk on my own. The two of them helped me get up to bed and several hours later I woke up and wondered how I had gotten home.
And then I saw Big I. . . and it was one of the happiest moments of my life. Getting wisdom teeth out isn’t a major surgery or anything, but there are always risks. They always make you sign those papers saying you won’t hold them responsible if they kill you. My Mom handed her to me and I just remember crying because the stress was just gone.
With two kids, my fear about having surgery is multiplied. Mothers are very good at imagining the worst possible scenario. I probably shouldn’t have watched Gray’s Anatomy the other week because one of the patients was allergic to general anesthesia and they had to keep him awake during open heart surgery.
"How do we know I’m not allergic to general anesthesia?" I asked my husband.
"You’re not," he said.
"But how do you know until they give it to you?" I said.
"You’re not," he repeated.
This mother may appear calm on the outside; but inside I am starting to freak out a bit. Maybe when I meet with the anesthesiologist on Thursday, he/she can clue me in on the underwear issue which might make me feel a little better. Funny that it’s the underwear issue bothering me more than a drill going through two of my bones, huh? I guess I’m only officially freaking out about things over which I have a tidbit of control. The other night, I checked my visitor stats and saw that someone was searching for "can I wear underwear during surgery" and guess who is now the #1 Google search for that very issue. After Monday, I’ll be able to answer this very important question for all of you. Aren’t you all relieved?
I can’t even tell you how much I just want this over with.
My Professor was on The Daily Show
Every once in a while, when I’m trying to distract myself from thinking about my upcoming surgery, I’ll google a name of someone from the past and see what comes up.
Today I found this:
Lee Gutkind is one of my professors from the University of Pittsburgh. His classes and his writing style fascinated me. Every time I scheduled my next semester, I would try to take something he was teaching. When all was said and done, I believe he was responsible for giving me about 13 credits or so of very well deserved A’s.
I interned for him at his then newly created journal called Creative Nonfiction. In fact, Creative Nonfiction turned into my first job out of college, where I worked an an assistant editor. This man could research the hell out of just about any topic, write about it, and make it interesting.
He used to take essays I had written and cross off the entire first three pages to show me where my story should start. I would initially want to cry, after all that work that I had put into my writing; but then I would read the finished result in front of the class and watch their reactions. I knew it was good because people sat there nodding their heads as I read.
Just about everything that is good about my writing, I learned from him. How cool is it that my professor was on The Daily Show!?!
Yellow Toes and Cold Floors
My friend Patrick had knee surgery one summer when I was in high school. The day of the surgery, another friend and I went to visit him. The smell of the hospital greeted us and I immediately got nervous. I hated hospitals, needles, blech. It all made me feel queasy.
We got to his room and Patrick was out cold. We quietly went into his room and stood beside his bed. He had an IV going into his arm, which made me think about the needle that went into his arm, which made me start feeling sick. I had never even had blood drawn at this time in my life, so the slightest thing bothered me.
In an effort to avoid looking at the IV, my eyes moved down his sleeping body to his leg. It was bandaged and under a thin sheet. A couple of his toes were sticking out the bottom of the sheet though, and they were yellow. I knew they were just yellow from the antiseptic they put on before surgery, but that bothered me. Yellow antiseptic made me think about what they did right after they put that stuff on and that made me even more sick.
I tried to concentrate on Patrick’s peaceful looking face, but my brain decided to override it and began controlling my eyes, making them look at the IV (NEEDLES!) and then the toes (YELLOW!), the IV (NEEDLES!), the toes (YELLOW!), the IV (NEEDLES!), the toes (YELLOW!). . .
The next thing I knew, my friend was asking me if I was feeling o.k. I didn’t realize it but I had broken out in a sweat and was feeling extremely hot. She told me I was very pale. Then she got very fuzzy looking, like a TV station that has gone out due to a storm.
My hands reached for the wall behind me, and I slowly slid all the way down until I was sitting on the floor; but that wasn’t good enough. So I slid down even further and flipped myself onto my stomach and put my cheek on the cold floor. It felt so good and I started feeling less dizzy.
Meanwhile, my friend was strongly encouraging me to get up off the floor, but all I could say back to her was, "Floor cold. Floor good." At that moment, a nurse walked into Patrick’s room to check on him and found me on the floor. "Oh my God!" she yelled and started yelling for some help, "We’ve got a girl down." My friend calmed the nurse down and told her that I was really o.k., that I just needed a cold floor. My friend peeled me off the floor and helped me up. I took one last fuzzy look at Patrick, IV, yellow toe, and my friend had me out the door.
When the fresh air greeted me outside, I instantly felt a lot better. I’m hoping that the two natural childbirths I’ve been through will help counteract those "fuzzy" feelings. Otherwise, I might just stay passed out until someone washes off what will probably be yellow toes.
***The drawing at The BBM Review is today! Go see if you’re a winner and check out the other reviews. We’ve added a new reviewer this week whose first post will be debuting soon!
Am I Allowed to Wear Underwear and Other Stupid Stuff
I’m sitting here today waiting for the hospital to call me so I can get my surgery officially scheduled. Then I can start the arrangements and start lining up family members to take care of the girls, and most importantly, make me food and bring me my pain meds.
I felt great all weekend long and actually slept. I felt relieved that I’ll be having the surgery. I honestly think the surgeon broke scar tissue loose or something on Friday because all the progress I made at PT over the past few weeks seems to be gone. My knee is wobblier than ever. Last night the insomnia started again. It usually goes something like this:
I climb into bed and get all my pillows situated around my knee and say my nightly prayers. I always start out praying for other people, before I get around to myself. Last night I finished up my prayers by asking for the surgery to go well and have no complications and that it gets me back to normal, that I’ll be able to make it through the first week of bad pain. . .
And then my mind starts to wander. . .
I really want a femoral nerve block, but they have to do it right at the bikini line. I don’t want a bunch of people staring at my bikini line. That’s too close to my "business." Maybe I should just not get a nerve block. I wonder if they’ll let me keep my underwear on. I really hope they do. If they don’t, that’s going to really suck. I’ll be unconscious, practically naked, with all these people around. What if the surgeon lifts my knee up and sees my butt? I don’t want anyone to see my butt. Why wouldn’t they let me keep underwear on? I mean, it’s not like they’re operating on my private parts. What if they put a urinary catheter in though? If they do that I can’t wear underwear. Oh my God, what if they put a catheter in! Wait, I’m not allowed to eat or drink anything, so that’s probably not an issue, me having to pee while in surgery right? I won’t need a catheter. . . but what if I do?
What if I wake up and I still have a drain in my knee? He said he might send me home with a drain in my knee if there’s lots of blood. How is there NOT going to be lots of blood? I mean, it’s knee surgery. If there’s a drain in my knee, there’s no way I’m going home like that only to have to go the next day to the doctor’s office to get it taken out. I’ll just stay overnight.
What if I do stay overnight and I have a horrible roommate? What if my roommate listens to CNN all night long and coughs a lot or poops his pants or something and it smells and I throw up? That will be awful. What if I throw up from seeing a drain in my knee? Oh my God, that would be AWFUL! Maybe I don’t want to stay overnight, but maybe I should stay overnight. Maybe they’ll give me my own room. I doubt it though because when my dad had his surgery, he had roommates once he got moved out of ICU.
This is stupid. You need to calm yourself down and just go to sleep. Nothing bad is going to happen. If your dad can have a craniotomy and be o.k., you can have knee surgery and be o.k. And who cares about the underwear thing. . . I mean, really. They’ve seen it all right? Ok, count or something. Yes, let’s count sheep. One, two, three, four, five. . .
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to jump again like those sheep?
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Ten is probably the number they’ll tell me to start counting at when they’re putting me to sleep.
Oh God. I hope I don’t get sick from the anesthesia. I hope I have a very experienced person who is on top of his/her game. I hope the people don’t talk about me while they’re operating on me. What if I can still hear them? What if I can feel what they’re doing but can’t move and tell them? I’m definitely getting the nerve block for that very reason. . .
Ok, better start over with the sheep. Relax, relax, relax, go to sleep.
One, two, three. . .
See what I mean? It is EXHAUSTING having the brain that I have.
Edited to add: It’s official. The 17th it is. Now I just have to wait for a report time.
Blogsitting
I am blogsitting over at IzzyMom today, with a super holiday gift suggestion for the little "princess" in your life. Go and read. I’m busy working on my fantasy football line-up.
Playoffs baby, oh yeah!
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