The events of last Thursday have become a blur in my memory and maybe that's as it should be. Maybe it's better for me not to remembers how uncomfortable I was in the hospital. However, it helps me to write about the experience.
Before I say anything else, I must first say that I was very impressed by the level of professionalism at Northside Hospital. I received excellent, skilled, caring nursing. I was truly impressed by how good those young nurses were.
However, getting a hysterectomy was never in my plans for middle age, and I wish I had not had to have it done.
So many things that happened are fuzzy in my memory and I hate that. I have always been a person who took pride in being "in control" of any situation, and being sedated was not a happy thing.
My first memory after the anesthesia is this: I was hearing sounds of nurses talking and footsteps, and my mouth felt like cotton. My mouth was so dry, it was painful. I know why. I know they put a tube down my throat during the surgery. I could not open my eyes, though. I could not even form words to ask for water. I wanted Lesleigh there, because she is so compassionate and so caring, and I knew she would take care of me and bring me water. In my mind, I was calling for her, but I know my mouth couldn't make the words.
Some time after that, I was back in the room. I don't remember how I got there or how I got on the bed.
Then I remember Lesleigh being there. She and Bruce had gone home after I was wheeled off to surgery, because it was going to take several hours. I am glad they were at the house with Mother. She was tense, of course, until the doctor called and reported everything had gone well.
After I got back to the room, Lesleigh got me some apple juice in a cup of ice and nothing ever tasted so good to me as that. Normally, I don't much like apple juice. On my parched throat, though, it was a godsend.
I had an IV in my arm, and I was catheterized. I hated being tethered to those things.
I also had both legs swathed in compression garments up to my thigh, and they were squeezing my legs every minute or so, to aid in circulation and prevent blood clots. I asked the nurse in pre-op if that was only for people who are fat or if they did that for everyone and she said they did it for everyone.
I didn't like my legs getting squeezed. However, I reflected on the fact that my grandfather died in 1972 because a blood clot went to his heart and killed him, after he had undergone hip replacement surgery. So I'd rather be uncomfortable than dead.
I know this is likely way more than you want to know about being in the hospital, but writing about it helps me. Just remembering small details like the apple juice really helps me.
Lesleigh brought me some yogurt that night, and I ate that, and a few spoonfulls of chicken soup, and that was exhausting and made me really full.
Bruce came in with Michael and they stayed with me while Lesleigh went and got herself some dinner, but I have no memory of what was said. I just remember looking at Michael and thinking how much I love him, and how sorry I was that he had to see me like that in the hospital.
At some point Thursday night, I remember Lesleigh curled up in the big reclining chair, and me sitting up in bed, and we found a Harry Potter movie on the TV and watched it. I read all those books to Michael and I love Harry Potter.
When the movie ended, we tried to go to sleep, but I was nauseated and headachy, and it was very tough to get any sleep all night.
I will stop here. The rest of the experience was not particularly bad, and I remember it well. The good thing is, the entire hospital ordeal is over.
my house...
I am still sore and achy, but being home, able to lie down in my own bed, and watch my own TV, and use my own bathroom - all those simple things are helping me heal faster and better.
