Surgery Day Cometh!

Packed my bag on the Sunday before my surgery date on the Monday. I'm not going to lie to you - I had a couple of panic attacks. It was rough. Due to my high stress level, I only slept for 3.5 hours from Sunday night to Monday morning at 4:30 when I had to get up to get ready to go to the hospital. So, get up, finalize everything, shower, do my hair, and be at the hospital for 6 am. Sounds easy, right? Sure. Especially with all the flooding that the Calgary region had experienced. We totally circumvented the flood zones and went a different way. I'm sure it took us a few minutes longer, but it was better for my peace of mind. Admissions desk opened up at 6 am, and I had to wait to get checked in, then I had to go get a pregnancy test done (Hubby and I laughed that it would be positive - it wasn't), and then it was time to get nekkid and into the horrible hospital gown. I was on the cusp of a panic attack all morning, I swear. After I got changed, and was vetted in the pre-op, I was driven to the OR section by a porter, but the kicker was that I couldn't wear my glasses, so I couldn't see a thing. Like NOTHING. It was distressing not to even be able to see my medical team. So in the hallway outside my OR, I met my team. My gynaecologist, her student, the hospital gynaecologist, the hospital anaesthetist (who I remember being a very tall woman), and then there were some more people in the OR when I got in there. Not being able to see, I have no idea who they were or even if they were human. I remember getting transferred on to the bed, and telling the anesthetist that I was REALLY nervous (I'm pretty sure I told everyone that, from the admissions clerk, to the blood tech, to the IV putter-inner-guy who had to attempt 3 times to get an IV in my arm). They asked me to put my arse just before a hole in the bed, and I told them I'd try. Then they asked me if I was from Eastern Canada because I said "arse". I said that I was a fourth generation Calgarian, but that we lived in the UK for a time. They all went "aaaahhh". I remember the hospital gynaecologist putting these leg stirrups on the bed, and I must've shot her a DIRTY look because she said "Oh, they're just leg rests". I think I told her that I didn't believe her. The anesthethetist told me to breathe from a mask, and I said "No way. I know what you're going to do", and she said, "It's just oxygen, silly!" and then plopped it over my face but made it so that some of the air was flowing into my eyes. I hate that feeling, so I shut my eyes. I did open them back up again once briefly, and that was it. I must've been out. The next thing I knew, I was having a great sleep and someone was yelling at me to breathe and to pee. Now there was NO WAY you were going to make me pee the bed, so there was no way I was going to pee the bed. I would hold it until I got to a toilet, thankyouverymuch. I was really enjoying how peaceful I was. I wasn't having to breathe a ton - I felt really peaceful. The damn kill-joy nurse kept on yelling at me to breathe, that I had to breathe. I remember thinking that breathing was stupid and a waste of time and how by breathing less it made my pain more manageable. I remember my nurse asking if I was breathing less because of the pain, and I said yes. (Or I grunted... whatever)I'm pretty sure they gave me more morphine at that point. I do remember hearing that they had given me 6 mg of morphine in the OR and another 6 mg in the recovery room, and that's probably why I wasn't breathing more than 8 times a minute. I also remember them being concerned because my blood pressure was really high, and they yelled at me to pee, to which I said no. (Ever accommodating!) Finally the nurse said "There's a catheter in - pee!!" rather sternly, and she repeated it enough that I started to think that *maybe* it was a good idea to pee now. I had to really work at figuring out how the hell to urinate, and the nurse just kept on saying for me to push and pee, so I did. My blood pressure went down. I went back to sleep, because I was TIRED! I remember my gynaecologist coming in to see me, and she said that things went sideways in the OR, but that I was okay, that I wouldn't remember her coming (which I TOTALLY DID), I wouldn't remember what she was saying to me (HAH! I'LL SHOW YOU!) and that she'd come see me up in my room. Then I remember almost barfing, getting a useless little piece of gauze that smelled of peppermint oil, then getting a drug to help. I remember falling asleep again and the damn nurse waking me up again. Then I was transferred up to Unit 84 into room 8402 and I remember my Hubby having to leave the room and he was looking Very Serious. I had to change beds (that was No Fun) they did some more stuff while I tried to fall back asleep. Then Hubby was there, holding my hand while I tried to keep my eyes open.