Back among the living
Part II

My house is full of flowers!

A huge bouquet of them came from our friends Dennis and Pam on Wednesday. The florist had tried to deliver them to the hospital on Tuesday after I had been discharged. The hospital called to tell us, and Bob called the florist and gave them our home address so they could redeliver them. They came late in the day on Wednesday and Bob carried them upstairs for me because I was resting. He ended up putting them in the bathroom, and I think they're lovely there. They surprise me and please me every time I go in there.

Tuesday brought a lavender plant from Terri and a basket of Spring flowers from "all your men at P3." Today there were tulips from my friend Barbara in New Jersey. And there were also knitting books, a CD, an "ET" DVD, cookies and chocolates . . . You guys spoil me, you really do. :)

Continued from last night:

I hadn't had anything to drink since midnight Sunday night, but I think I was already pretty well hydrated, because after the nurse started the IV running, I almost immediately felt like I had to go to the bathroom.

I'm lying there on a gurney in a hospital gown, wearing surgical stockings and little booties, hooked up to an IV on one arm and a vital signs monitor on the other, and all I could think about was that I really needed to go to the bathroom. A surgical nurse came by and introduced herself and said she was going to be one of the nurses working in the operating room. I told her I needed to go to the bathroom, then said, well, I guess they'll be putting a catheter in anyway, right? And she said "Not until you're asleep." Thank goodness.

She said if I wanted to go, she'd help me, and I said that yes, I'd really be more comfortable if I could. It was still a half hour until surgery time.

So she took the IV bag off the pole and carried it over to the bathroom; I looked at Bob, and looked at her, and said, "Do you need to come in with me, or should he . . . ?" and Bob said, "I bet there's a hook in there," and there was. He said, "I knew there would be--this is a hospital!" It was a little awkward, but quite a relief.

Once I got situated on the gurney again, the nurse came in and said that my parents were here. I hadn't been sure whether or not they would be able to see me before surgery; of course, I wasn't seriously worried that I was going to die on the table, but it's not unheard of, and if possible, I did want to see them. My mother had called Sunday night to ask if I knew where they should go when they got there, and I didn't know, so I called the hospital.

There wasn't actually anyone around who knew, but the receptionist rang the surgery suite, and someone eventually picked up, who said he was sure it wouldn't be a problem, just to have them show up and say who they wanted to see, and he was sure they would let them. Which they did.

Bob went out to get them, and pretty soon I saw my dad come through the swinging doors. At first I thought he was by himself, that they would only let one person in at a time, but then I saw the top of my mother's head. She's so small that I couldn't see her at first. They spent a few minutes with me, no big emotional scene or anything, of course, just hugged me and told me they loved me, and went back out so that Bob could come back in and meet with the anesthesiologists.

The supervising doctor/anesthesiologist (I don't know what the correct term is) went over my chart and asked me a few questions. I was really concerned about being nauseated after surgery, since my last experience (when I had a tubal ligation twenty years ago) had been awful. He said, "Well, some people get sick no matter what you do," which wasn't very comforting, but he said they would put something in the IV so that I wouldn't get sick, and I made sure he knew I had a mitral valve prolapse (heart murmur).

He asked me if I had any questions, and if I was comfortable, and I said, "My arm [indicating the one with the IV in it] is getting kind of cold," and he said, "Well, why don't you put it under the blanket, then," which made Bob laugh, and they covered up my cold arm.

Then he left, and the nurse came back again, and doublechecked to be sure that I'd removed all my "piercings." I think that was the third time I'd been asked that; I'm sure they've seen all manner of things there, but I wouldn't think I would look especially like someone who had a lot of body jewelry . . . But I assured her that I'd removed everything on my body that would come off. She asked me if I wanted something to help me relax, and I said, "Yes, please."

She kind of looked at me, and said, "Are you really anxious?" I wasn't, really, I don't think. I mean, I was okay with the surgery, I trusted everyone to take care of me, I trusted my doctor . . . but of course I was nervous. I wasn't shaking or anything, but I figured if she was offering something to help me relax, what was the harm in taking it? I said, "No, I'm fine, but every little bit helps, right?"

To be continued . . .