From total darkness….

My first thought when I woke up from surgery was “I wanna go back under” followed immediately by “why does my arm hurt SO MUCH”.  I was so dopey and drugged. In the recovery room I was faintly aware of a few things: 1) that I was recovering from a surgery, 2) my arm hurt worse than anything ever had hurt before – about the same as when I broke it 3) they took an xray with a cool xray machine, and 4) I was the most healthy and with it surgical patient in that room. I remember hearing snippets of conversations about recovering patients heading back to the ICU, seeing masses of machinery floating around with gurneys with passed out people in various states of bandages. So all considering, I should feel lucky. So I tried hard to not complain about anything.

I was asked a few times what my pain felt like, and I said about a 9 or a 10 – and that made the nurses scurry, giving me drugs and more drugs. And then it was a few more hours of blissful non-pain… wow the miracle of drugs ;)

When I had significantly improved, I moved to the regular recovery room – and the nurses told me I had to urinate and then I could go home. No problem, I thought, I’ve had so much to drink in the past hour, I should be going any minute! Well, minutes turned into hours. My friend AP came to take me home around 6, but since I hadn’t yet peed, they wouldn’t release me. “why don’t you go get some dinner and come back, surely I’ll be ready by 8”.  Ha.

What was my condition at 8? Obnoxious. I had a bit of a panic/pain attack around the time that AP came back to check on me again. She got my drugs for me (thanks and YAY) and came back again. I was doped up with two doses of whatever they gave me in the original recovery room. (Reflecting on this episode, I’m sure it was caused by ‘coming down’ from anesthesia – evil evil drugs).  Surely I’d be ready to go by then? Nope. I had taken to wandering around with my saline solution bag attached to my arm and my hind end hanging out of the back of the robe. Yes, I was one of those people. I believe I pontificated on the finer points of immodesty to everyone I could. I can’t believe these nurses and doctors put up with people like me (and worse: see last entry for the ‘worse’ category) after surgery.

After AP went home, I begged for a catheter, I just want to go home, please make me urinate and let this be over! I had so many drugs in my system that I was completely unable to relax the urinary tract muscles – it’s something you do voluntarily – but there was a big disconnect thanks to the drugs between my brain and its outlying nerve pathways.

It’s nearing 10pm and my roommates (and by proxy, my Mom) are beside themselves with worry, not quite sure what’s happened to me. The doctors I spoke with wanted to admit me for the night, worried about my lack of urine. By this time I’m bloated more than a bowling ball. I’d had about a gallon of liquid! I was really uncomfortable and really wanted to go home.  I must have been convincing to yet another doctor that I was very aware of my pain situation but that I really wanted to go home, could I please have a catheter? (have you ever heard someone beg for one? Me either)

I’m aware that A called and I asked her to be ‘on call’ to pick me up. FINALLY I’m granted a catheter – it took about 5 minutes to completely evacuate! All the while, the nurses lecturing me until blue in the face that “If I cant urinate tomorrow morning, you must come straight to the emergency room right away”, I nodded my assent.

I was ushered into speedy wheelchair, assigned a chauffeur, and we headed downstairs, into a big mess of construction blocking my hallway out – I stumble into my roommates car (both roomies are there)…ahhhh home sweet home…