Getting better every hour

Seriously.

It feels like every hour I can feel, almost at a cellular level, the reparation and normalization that is going on.

Many of you knew through texts that I didn't get into surgery on Monday night until nearly 7:30 PM, having not eaten since 9:30 the evening before and not had any water since early in the morning. Thank goodness my parents had flown out to entertain me, because it turned out to be a serious challenge to keep me in good spirits through the long day.

My original surgery time was 4:00 PM (clearly the last surgery of the day which I found out was bestowed upon me because I am young and "can take it"). However, there was window earlier in the day when the scheduling nurse thought things were moving a long fast, and called us to come in at 3:00 instead of  4:00.  

So we all marched up at 3:00, and of course the cases before me all turned out to run long, so I got to sit around for four hours in my glamorous gown, hooked up to an IV, in a tiny, hot room with various MDs and nurses coming in and out. Thankfully I had Sawyer and my parents there. While they did not have to wear the gown, it was a bit of death march for all of us, but we had lots of laughs during that time. 

When they finally wheeled me away to the OR I tried mightily to be aware and look around and try to remember things and... about all I can remember is the various lights above me and my impression that they looked like butterflies.  I also remember hazily joke-promising with the nurses in there that I would be quick and easy to make up for their earlier cases as I was feeling bad for them having a long day.

Thankfully, my joke-promise turned out to be true. Both my surgeon and plastic surgeon said things went very smoothly and easily for them (and by extension, my body).

I have a hazy memory of being taken up to my room at around 10:30 PM where Sawyer already was sitting and waiting for me in the dark, which struck both me and the nurse as funny. He was just getting used to the room, which looked a bit like a Marriott Jr. Suite.  (See Sawyer's post for his impressions)

While no one really wants to spend time in a hospital, I'll give points where they are due: the Huntsman is pretty swanky, which certainly helps take the sting off being there.

The hour-by-hour report may run a little long and boring, especially for those of you who have been admitted to hospitals before. It goes something like this: nurse comes in and checks things, aide comes in checks other things, wait 35 minutes; repeat. Simple things like peeing are a hilarious challenge when you're hooked up to IV, air, non-edema leg thingies, drains. And IVs make you need to pee a lot.

Dear sweet Sawyer was with me overnight and my fondest memory of the night is seeing his sleeping form lit up by a lightning during storm that blew through around 2 AM. While hospitals are not known for this, I found the parts of my night where we were alone in the room to be incredibly peaceful.

My other fond memory was of any new nurses/aides coming in and looking deeply perplexed to see someone wearing scrubs sleeping on the pull-out couch. Clearly a context-gestalt for them. 

The first hours up there I actually felt really excited and happy... Excited that I was done with this particular hurdle, excited that I hopefully had excised the diseased cells and maybe just buoyed by my latent interest in things that are new and different. This was the first time I have been in the hospital in my life. Besides my body actually hurting (which it did) I felt alert, curious, and pretty happy.

It occurred to me at about 4:30 AM , during a nurse visit, that I could ask for something to eat - by this time it had been 32 hours since eating and that alone was making me feel pretty wack-a-roonie.  So I had a yogurt.

I think I remarked to Sawyer that it was the best yogurt of my life, which made me feel good for the whole genus of yogurt because I don't think it typically receives superlatives (to say nothing of the fact that it was probably a brand I would typically eschew for its nonconformance to my ideals of natural ingredients).

I will contend that anything you eat after 32 hours of abstaining from doing so will rise to the superlative level in your mind, in that moment.

Sawyer left around 7:30 AM to go next door to the University Hospital to work and I focused on proving that I was able to be discharged that day by eating, switching from IV pain meds to oral ones, walking around, peeing enough, and learning how to clean my drains (a piece of TMI gore you'll probably hear about in subsequent posts since they'll be with me for at least a couple of weeks).

Of course I didn't actually get let go until 2 PM, but it was helpful to have a goal during the morning to focus on.

Also helpful were the many many text messages, emails, FB posts from you all throughout the day before, through the night and all through yesterday.

My heart is so full.

I can't tell you how lovely it was to arrive home to a warm house and a ridiculously delicious and well-wrought four-course meal delivery (complete with dish settings and napkins) from my boss/mentor/friend Fraser and her daughter Neah. (Way to set the bar high, Fras!)

But probably my favorite part of yesterday was going to bed at 9:30 PM while my mommy bustled in my kitchen making tomato sauce, my dad was nearby reading or doing dad-like things, and I was snuggled next to Sawyer dozing off while he watched an episode of True Blood in bed.

Safe. Cozy. Taken-care of. Surrounded by beloved family.

Loved.

I made a post to this end on FB, but really, how could one *not* heal in circumstances like this?