a missing hour
Surgery last Friday was pretty uneventful, which is the best that I could have hoped for. I got there early like they asked. I sat for an hour before they let me into a room. I had to take off all my clothes and put on special socks and a hospital gown. I left my underwear on because it seemed the right thing to do. It wasn't. They had to intubate me in order to keep me under and work in my nose at the same time. I would have to come out of anesthesia with the tube still in my throat. The idea of that scared me a lot. But they assured me I probably wouldn't even remember it. I don't. Everyone was kind, and patient, and awesome.
From the timeline I've been given there is about 1 hour of my life for which I was awake and conscious that I don't remember at all. That's actually really scary to me: the idea that I was awake and doing things that I cannot account for. Whatever it was that I did, the nurse in charge of watching me regain consciousness commented many, many times to the various people she was discussing my status with that I was a very, very nice man. So, I'm guessing I must have hit on her a lot.
Now, four days after the fact, I feel pretty good. It's way too soon to say anything but, I feel like I can breathe better. I also haven't taken ANY pain killers, not even for headaches. Since I usually take 4 advil every 4 hours almost every day, that's a pretty nice improvement. My face is a bit sore. And I'm not supposed to bend over or lift more than 10 lbs, which is impossible when you live alone, especially when you live alone with a child. But I'm taking it as easy as I can.
I have my Post-Op appointment early Thursday morning. If all goes well, I'll switch to drugs and regular checkups and hopefully live a life in which I feel much better and die far, far later.
