Yes, I'm getting tired of the "Part I," etc., too. But this is taking a really long time to
tell, and I don't want to forget any of it. I don't know why, exactly, but it just seems
important. And a couple of people have told me to write it down now if I want to remember it,
because before long it will be gone. Something about the anesthesia, I think.
I moved the "sleep" quote to today, because it really didn't apply to yesterday's entry,
well, it would have, but I got tired before I got as far as I meant to, and slept . . .
Continued from yesterday:
I gave my prescription to the pharmacist, she told me it would be a few minutes, and I
sat down to wait.
I kind of zoned out, so I don't know how long it had been, but a clerk called me up to the
counter and said the prescription was ready. I asked if I could take it and pay for
it up at the checkout counter, and she said no, that I had to pay for it there. So I
told her that I would have to wait for my husband, then, who was getting groceries, and
I gave the bag back to her and went back to my bench and waited.
And waited. And waited. Pretty soon the pharmacist came over and said, "Your
prescription is ready," I guess thinking that no one had told me. I said, "I know, but
I have to wait for my husband. I don't have any money." Then I thought that sounded
weird, so I said, "I just got out of the hospital," which probably sounded weird, too.
But she just nodded, and left me to it.
Bob didn't have that many things to get, and I couldn't imagine what was taking him
so long. I stood up and looked over the barrier between the pharmacy and the rest of
the store, but didn't see him anywhere. I thought, well, I'd just stand up for awhile,
which would at least make it easier for him to see me, and in a few minutes, he came
rushing in the front door of the store.
My first thought was that he'd forgotten I was there and left without me, but I didn't
think that was very likely. He said he'd already bought the groceries and loaded them
into the car, and came back to look for me, because he hadn't been able to find me
before. He said at first he couldn't even find the pharmacy itself, although he
eventually did, but he had walked by a couple of times and hadn't seen me, I guess
because I was sitting down.
I said, "But I said I would be sitting down, that they had a bench there," and he said
yes, that he remembered that now.
I think he may have been just a tad preoccupied.
So. He got me home and helped me up the stairs. I didn't feel too bad. I felt . . . just
kind of weird, I guess. Sort of subdued and tired and kind of like I'd been beaten
up. All I wanted to do was sleep. I changed out of my sweats into one of my huge
t-shirts and got under the covers, and just kind of drifted for awhile. Later, he
made me a grilled cheese sandwich and soup, and brought it up to me on a TV tray,
and I ate, then curled up and slept a little while longer.
So of course when it came time to really sleep, I couldn't. Or, actually, I
just couldn't find a comfortable position, and every time I turned over, it hurt. I
knew I was probably disturbing Bob--not that he would mind, certainly, but I knew he
needed to rest, too. I guess it must have been around midnight or 12:30 when I decided
to get up and go sleep in his recliner in the office.
And that helped. It took me a long time to go to sleep, even so, but I was more comfortable.
It didn't take long for Pyewacket to come in and curl up on my thighs and go to sleep, but
it must have taken another couple of hours for Dinah to discover where I was. I think
it was around 3:00 a.m. when I felt her tentatively jump up on the chair arm and sniff at
me. I said, "Come on, it's okay," and she climbed up and curled up on my chest, right
under my chin.
That's her preferred spot--she likes to be as close to your head as possible. I had
to kind of hold her up with one arm underneath her, and it made it a little hard to
breathe, but it was better than having her lay on my stomach, and I didn't want to shut
them out. We--all three of us--eventually slept, and I woke up at dawn and went back
into bed with Bob.
I never slept in the recliner again, and each night became easier, but for a week or more
it was still pretty uncomfortable to sleep. Everything inside had been kind of moved around,
and it was all still settling back into its new configuration. One thing that was good,
though: the hip pain I'd been having for months, that I assumed was arthritis, was gone.
G • O • N • E. I used to wake up at night and have to turn over
because my hip was hurting so bad, but now I would wake and turn over because my stomach
was hurting, but no hip pain.
The fibroids must have been pressing on something, a nerve maybe, or maybe it was just
the pressure from the enlarged uterus causing my pelvic bones to to hurt. Who knows?
Whatever it was, it was gone. As Bob would say, "That's a positive."
Another thing I forgot: the minister. When the hospital called to ask me the pre-op
questions, they asked if I had a religious preference (not specifically, but
Christian), and if I would like a visit from the chaplain. I said sure, thinking he
might come by and pray with/over me before surgery, but he didn't. He did come to
my room, though, after I got out of the recovery room, sometime that afternoon.
He intoduced himself, and asked if I had anything I specifically wanted him to do,
and I said, well, say a prayer? and he said, "Of course." And he did, but he got
my name wrong, calling me "Cara." It didn't offend me, but I did think it was kind
of funny. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but afterwards, as he was turning to leave,
he said, "I got your name wrong, didn't I?" I laughed and said yes, "but I hope
Cara feels better, too," and said that I'm sure he sees hundreds of people in a day
and it's hard to keep them straight.
He apologized and said, "Well, God knew who I was talking about."
