So I had surgery.
On my back.
I thought I’d tell you a little bit about it.
It started with a late night and early morning. You see, surgery was Thursday…and we had volunteered to host the Wednesday night youth group at our house. So when I got a call from the hospital, telling me that my surgery was booked for 7:10 am, with a 5:45 am show time…I almost threw up. The surgery was in Bismark–nearly 2 hours south of Minot. So we left after youth group, had a short night’s sleep, and arrived bright and early–ready for the knife.
Now, this is the most serious surgery I’ve ever had. And here is something I learned. Everyone wants your pee. Blood too–but mostly pee. I have given so many strangers my pee in a cup I’m starting to lose count. At my initial appointment for back pain they wanted it to be sure the pain wasn’t caused by pregnancy. {Nope.} Then I gave it to them at my pre-op. Then at 5:45 in the morning they needed it again. Just to triple check I’m not pregnant. {Still nope.}
The next thing I learned is that thinking about someone cutting {really cutting, with sharp tools} around your spine is really intimidating. No matter how brave I tried to be, or how much I had been looking forward to this day…sitting in a paper dress with needles in my arms and those gorgeous, blue hospital socks on my feet…my heart was racing and I had that sick-dread feeling running through my veins. The anesthesiologist came in and explained how his job worked. Then asked me if I needed anything for nerves “now.” I turned him down. Then, when the door shut I immediately regretted it.
But soon enough the time had come. I took my contacts out and left them with Derek {like a total idiot I left my glasses on my night stand…in Minot.} Then they carted me back to a very scary hospital-show-worthy OR. It was so bright and white. But I don’t remember much of that. As soon as they kicked the brakes on there was Nurse Barbie {as I referred to her, because she was so stinkin’ pretty and had the cutest glasses–oh how I wish I hadn’t forgotten my glasses–I’d ever seen} to load me up with happy-meds.
After that, I only remember a couple outbursts of obnoxious laughter {from me} while I tried to answer questions that I was sure they knew the answers to themselves. Then, it was the dimness of the recovery room. Two {very blurry} nurses were messing with a machine next to me, terrible pain in my back, and horrific, shooting pains through my right hip. That’s when I remembered what was going on. I moved my feet. Still working. Praise God! I’ve never been so happy to move my feet. In the back of my mind I really thought maybe, just maybe something would go terribly wrong and I’d be paralyzed forever.
I remembered the advice the nurse had given me before I went to the OR, “Remember, when you are all done, they won’t automatically give you more pain medicine. Tell them if you are hurting and they’ll put it through your IV.”
I found some words and strung them together–in what I am sure was not a proper sentence–to tell them I was in pain. What I wanted to say was that I felt like someone had backed over me with a bus, stopped to steal my organs, then drove over me again. But I just said “I hurt.”
While they worked to make me a little more comfortable, I rubbed my eyes…which were covered in sticky, slimy goo. The pros told me that’s from when they taped my eyes closed during surgery. Oh, sure, no big deal…but could I have a towel please? My eyes feel like they’ve been in a scene from Ghost Busters.
Around this time I took inventory on the rest of my body. Outside of the noxious soreness I felt great. No shooting nerve pain down my legs and up my back. Pain that I’d practically forgotten about because it had become so normal was gone. Really gone.
And it hasn’t come back. Eventually that day I was returned to Derek and release to go home. I could even stand up to get dressed. I had an appetite {so we stopped at my favorite pizza place in Bismarck}. The ride home was borderline miserable. But since then I’ve been feeling better and better. Groggy from the pain meds–a little cranky because I’m always so groggy–but better. Sleeping well. Taking it easy. No lifting. No bending. No twisting.
Thanks for all your prayers! I have felt them and so appreciate every single one.
Amy
