We made the mad 50 mile dash to the Surgery Center this morning. I finally accept that we are in the traffic hole of the Metroplex. How could there possibly be traffic before 5:30 AM?
The staff at the center were amazing and accommodating despite the fact that I was late. The anesthesiologist was everything I could want: great bedside manner, flexible (I turned down Versed since I am nursing), and put in an i.v. as well as my father ever did. True story, my father put nearly every i.v. I ever received before I was 21. I was accident prone (not much has changed on that account).
Anyway, they wheeled me into the operating room, transferred me to the operating table, placed the oxygen mask over my nose, and then I woke up in recovery! Hug your anesthesiologist, y'all. They are where it's at.
The previous surgery my care was managed by a CRNA, I received too much medicine in my spinal and had depressed breathing, I woke up prematurely, I remember things . . . Remembering things is at the bottom of the list of desirable surgery experiences.
Anyway, I woke up. My wonderful husband took care of baby I.. My good friend, Rita, saved the day with a sterilized breast pump and a generous milk donation so that she would not have to have formula. Hug your favorite La Leche Leaguer, y'all! She is also where it's at.
My pain level has not been great. I'm taking more medicine than I want to, but my new mantra is: Tomorrow will be better. For now, I am back in a new improved black orthopedic boot. I have not seen the wound, but the metal appliance looked like something you might find on a bike.
I'll be limping around here for a few days, but nothing significant. The stitches come out three days before we move. Thank you for your prayers and thoughtful words of encouragement.