pre-surgery...

...over and done.  Good as new? Not yet, but optimistically headed in that direction as it will take time, and ample drugs to get me back up to speed. Nothing I cannot tolerate as long as the industrial strength pain killers hold out.

After going to do the pre-registration paperwork a week ago, I was told to expect a call on the day before surgery that would inform about time to arrive for pre-op. The part where they take your clothes away, so you can't escape when you have a change of heart. The call came on Wed. morning for me to appear at 9 a.m. on Thurs. But then another one, a recorded message into voice mail after regular business hours, told of 'appointment with Dr. at 12:00 pm' leaving completely baffled as to what time I should offer up my person as a sacrifice.

I started calling the office/clinic number the minute they opened, and as you might expect, went to voice mail of the scheduling person, who never returned my call, though I tried and tried to get clarification. You most definitely do not want to do anything, like arrive late, to p.o. the surgeon with a sharp knife in his hand. But also did not want to go hours too early in a state of great anxiety, already so thoroughly stressed out my heart was racing.

Though I did not want to go at all, we arrived a few minutes after nine o'clock, in the out patient waiting area, to hurry up and wait. There was no way to tell time, but think I was putting on the little paper gown by 9:30. I was assured of calming meds. as soon as the IV drip was started: too bad that could not have occurred two days earlier as I was freaking out with dread days in advance. When the scheduling person called with ETA for prep. I inquired about a friendly little dose of Atavan, only to get assurance of 'happy drugs' with saline drip.

When the nurse/person in scrubs came to get me from the waiting room, I asked her to check for the actual really real time for rolling into the OR. She reported noon.  My response: Aargghhh. She said by the time we get you prepped and ready, it will be nearly 12. I was instructed 'take off all your clothes', and left with curtains drawn and the crinkly air-conditioned gown. I did not actually take every single piece, if you can read between the lines.

There is a large wall clock in every little curtained off space, above each bed. Positioned for staff to write times of each procedure on chart, to document progress. Thankfully, not where the intended victim can see, as I am 100% certain I would have noticed it going backwards. The IV was started, my surgery arm was marked with a sharpie so he would open the wrong/left one, and drugs began to have the desired effect.