Continued from these previous blogs.
Post #1 - The Pain of Pregnancy
Post # 2 - Fibroids Suck
In the room we played the waiting game. My husband, my mother-in-law, and I had a few minutes to to make ourselves comfortable. We had quite a few nurses check in with us to check my various vital signs, make sure we knew what to expect in the next few hours, and make sure we were comfortable. We continued waiting (which seemed like forever) then the wheelchair showed up. I was not having that so I walked with the attendant back into the holding area before surgery. There were quite a few people there also waiting. It was a solemn place. Very quite. Not much to say I guess.
After I was settled I was able to talk to the recovery nurse. She was quite the character. "It makes my job so much easier when "you people" do that to your hair like that (cornrows)." *side eye* I made small talk with her for a bit. She told me that I'd be brought back in this room after the surgery. I would be monitored and woken up then taken back to my room with my loved ones. She then went to introduce herself to a few other patients in the room.
Side note: These tights were the worst thing ever. They itched like hell and by day
two I had my husband take them off and scratch my legs at least every hour.
After speaking with the anesthesiologist my doctor came in. I've been seeing my doctor for about 3-4 years. She's so energetic, and kind. We talked for quite some time. I asked her lots of questions about the procedure, how long it would take, what type of incision, how the anesthesia will make me feel afterward, safeguards in case of an emergency, and plenty of other things we'd already talked about before but I wanted to make sure I'd heard her correctly. We talked for about 30-40 minutes. She told me about the 4-5 surgeries she had before she was able to conceive her two beautiful babies and she reassured me that everything would be OK and that I was in good hands. I don't think I would have chosen to have the surgery had I not been so comfortable with my doctor and had she not been so willing to self-disclose her own struggles with fertility.
My doctor then went to talk to my family. The nurse anesthetist came by to start my IV and begin my medications. Just then my doctor came back with my mom. She was late getting to the hospital and my doctor brought her back to the recovery room, at her insistence no doubt, to see me before I was taken into surgery. She kissed me and told me she loved me. Definitely made me feel much more at ease seeing my mom at that moment (against hospital policy no less...such a rebel that one!).
"She was in and out of the recovery room in a flash and the next thing I know I was waking up in my hospital room. "
I don't even remember leaving the recovery room. I chatted with my husband, mom, and mother-in-law for a bit. They gave me a few details about what they were told about the surgery (it went well, there was only one fibroid, it was huge, it's gone now, back to baby making). I'm sure a bit of that is an exaggeration but that is what I was told or I think I was told in my medicated stupor, then I went back to sleep.
When I finally woke up I was able to access my situation. I had a catheter which I was thankful for the convenience but it certainly isn't the most comfortable contraption in the world. Yep. Love/Hate relationship there.
The pain initially was significant and persistent. The incision site was very tender and sore. The incision was taped with these tiny pieces of white tape all along the incision and then there was a bandage over that. On top of the bandage was a belly wrap almost like a girdle that kept everything in place prevent unnecessary movement. This contraption was pivotal throughout my recovery. I still had my IV and I was thankful for the IV pump with the self-administered pain meds. It was a godsend. Moving in bed was a total chore for this rambunctious sleeper. Tossing-and-turning was surely my biggest struggle and frequently impeded sleep. Moving about as I was so accustomed to every night while I slept was incredibly painful.
The entire first day after the surgery was mostly spent sleeping; waking only to administer more pain meds through my coveted pump and sleeping some more. Nurses frequently came in to check on me. Frequently definitely seems like an understatement because I often felt like they came in every 3 minutes to check my blood pressure and to ask me about my pain tolerance.
Continued next week...