I finally had my reconstruction surgery two weeks ago yesterday. Boy was that rough. Things didn't really start off well post-surgery. The doctors were all gathered around me speaking their jargon. My numbers weren't looking very good. I asked for an explanation and was basically ignored. I asked again for an explanation and was told by a woman doctor (which pissed me off even more--a lot of men surgeons are assholes but women are usually better) that they were talking "Shop talk." EXCUSE ME???? That set me off to say the least. So then the doctors were telling the nurse to give me some Ativan because I was becoming difficult and making the numbers worse. She explained that I was becoming difficult because I was asking them questions and they weren't responding to me. I'm sure there were notes written about me in my file after that. I never saw the woman surgeon again but I did see the first guy several times throughout my stay. Needless to say, we never really hit it off. Fortunately BI sent out their survey which I filled out and provided a high level summary of this interaction. I'll be disappointed if I don't get a follow-up call.
Those first few days I definitely was having doubts about whether I'd done the right thing. The first few days were a blur due to the morphine I was on. I hated the morphine--it didn't seem to be anything for the pain and I just felt stoned and out of it. I've always thought I'd prefer meth or coke to heroin or morphine--I like things that give me more energy, not make me feel lethargic. I have vague recollections of texting and/or messaging people. I also have vague memories of watching shows but I couldn't tell you what happened. I couldn't wait to get off of that, which I did around Wednesday.
The food at BI was terrible. TERRIBLE. Granted, I didn't have much of an appetite, but eating the food there didn't give me much of an appetite either. Nothing sounded good. There was some bizarre buttered haddock offering. I wish I'd taken a picture of the menu as proof.
Thankfully, I went home on Friday, September 12. I was so glad to get home. Once the pain went away completely the middle of last week, I started to get really antsy. I don't have clearance to drive yet so I feel cooped up. I can't walk that far yet because I still have drains in and they tug and hurt. And by far I mean I have yet to walk a mile in a single trip, but I'm told I'm acting like somebody who's five weeks along, not two. I can't pick up the girls for four weeks. All told, I should be back to myself in about six weeks.
The work itself looks pretty good. I love the tummy tuck. LOVE IT. I don't have a lot of sensation in my stomach area, but there's no fat there. AWESOME. And my new boobs are a bigger size than I was expecting them to be. I can't wait to go bra shopping. And while I'm very grateful to have two boobs again, I feel like a character from Nightmare Before Christmas. I'll save my thoughts on that, as well as today's interaction with my favorite plastic surgeon, for the next blog post.
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