NOTES FROM THE OTHER SIDE

Almost 36 hours post surgery and I'm feeling... I don't know... weepy? I would've described myself as chipper until maybe last night, but I guess all the drugs cycling in/out of my system have hijacked my happy thoughts. I'm not sad or pessimistic or anything. Just weepy and tired and sore. Like a campbell's soup commercial would make me burst into tears.
I've been staying at my Mom's (she even let me stay in her bed... now there's true parental devotion for you) and I almost feel like I'm on a different planet, but I don't know that I could've handled the commotion that is our household just yet. I was thinking I'd go by daycare today to see the little guys, but I guess I'm not quite up for it yet. It's so hard for me to allow myself this time to not feel ok, especially since everything went so well, but I need to give myself a break. (Easier said than done)
In any event, everything went as planned the day of the surgery. In the morning I was commenting to jim that it would be the last time in awhile that I would be able to lie on my left side. "You should give me a backrub then," he suggested. Good thinking :) He also offered to make me eggs and steamed milk, which would've been a really nice offer except I was prohibited from eating anything after midnight the night before. At least he kept me chuckling.
About 9 I got wheeled over (now I know what the kids in the strollers feel like!) to the breast center where in about 3 minutes the dr. inserted a needle, a wire, and then a radioactive injection into el lumpo. So added to my increased superpowers, I could also pickup radiowaves there for awhile... The wire was a surprise to me, (didn't hurt or anything) and was put there to help the dr. with locating the mass. My mom, dad, jim and I hung out in the preop room (very nice)for a few hours until the anetheisiologist came in to discuss all of the risks-- we were confused about the risk of retinal scratching and the dr. thought it was amusing that we would be discussing that rather than the risk of, oh, death. A quick checkin with the surgeon ("ok if I play Coldplay?"-- now that comment confused my parents) then wheeled off.
I had to take off my glasses, so couldn't see anything, and that made it easier (softer?) somehow. Down we went through several series of double doors from the patient preop where we started to what seemed to be more and more industrial areas. Ladies with big trashbins scooting out of our way, gaggles of drs scooting by discussing a party planned for the weekend. I half expected to see some guy welding in the corner or something. Then into the operating room. What seemed like 20 people around hooking things up, shifting me around, putting massage boots on my legs to prevent blood clots (those were cool) a guy in a mask confirming it was my left breast, right? Then shooting me up with something that made me feel like I had had 3 margaritas (allright!) the dr. holding my hand, looking at me with reassuring eyes... "it will all be fine..." Coldplay in the background... then...
Wake up Carolyn.
squint at the clock. After 4pm. That's late. can't... open... eyes... try again...
first thought: I don't feel too bad. second thought: how did they get these clothes (supertight bra) on me? third thought: they weren't kidding about the sore throat. Dr there. "Were they negative?" I ask. "Yes" she smiles. "Fantastic." I mumble. sweet relief washes over me.
Jim in the room (they weren't expecting to be able to see me so soon, but I guess I stabilized really quickly) "Hey bright eyes" he say.
Not for long, as the percaset starts to kick in. I was on my way to my mom's in less than an hour. Blurry drive home. Up a lot that night, but not too painful. Just awake.
So glad to read all of your messages. Jim said some of you got me a tree. Makes me smile just to think about that.
Time for more drugs and more 24 (this is a good show to watch on drugs, it seems) Jack is trying to stop the virus. I'm trying to stop being weepy.
We've all got our own battles, I suppose.