My surgery had been scheduled for 11 AM on the 25th, perfect timing for getting the girls off to school, Matt off to his friend's house, and off to the hospital by 10 AM.
As soon as I arrived at the hospital I was taken to my recovery room. Once I got changed into my beeyewtiful hospital gown the action started. Nurses were in and out, making sure that I was really me, that they really were going to be doing a breast reduction and not a penis reconstruction or anything else, and getting all my IV's set up.
I understand the point of asking a patient to not drink or eat for 12 hours before surgery, however, it makes finding a vein, even in my lovely veiny arms, an impossibility. It took 5 sticks and two blown veins to finally get a good line going. That is the most difficulty I have EVER had in getting an IV going.
The nurses also wrapped some compression pads around my legs, to be sure I wouldn't end up with any clots in my legs.
In the midst of the chaos a lady came in to fit me for my compression garments. She gave me two garments of torture, with the order to wear them 24/7 for at least the first 2 to 3 weeks, but preferably the entire 6 weeks after surgery. They were essentially a heavy white elastic fabric, with seams going across the breasts in all the wrong places. The shoulders were adjustable with velcro, and the front closed with 3 eye-hooks and a zipper over them. They were like armor breastplates, and went from mid-sternum to the last rib, as tight as can possibly be.
Shortly before surgery the anesthesiologist came in to go over what he'd be doing to knock me out, and finally my plastic surgeon came in to recheck his markings.
Finally, it was time. I was wheeled into the operating room, climbed up onto the operating table, and the last thing I remembered was getting my arms strapped to the table.
The next thing I knew, I could hear somebody talking to my MIL, telling her that I should be waking up any time now. I was able to move my head a little bit, but that was it. Surgery had taken 3 hours, and apparently I took to the anesthetic quite well. I had a really hard time waking up. I knew that I wasn't going to be allowed to go home until I used the bathroom and kept down some water, though, so I pushed myself. I remember MIL feeding me ice chips, and feeling the sudden need to go to the bathroom about an hour after I started waking up. I had a hard time talking, so I could only say, "Pee." MIL and the nurse helped me sit up, and I could only choke out, "puke!" Thankfully they got a bag to me in time. I managed to get to the bathroom & do my business, and get back. Once I was back in bed I told the nurse, "OK, I've had water, I peed, let's go!" Dangit, I forgot about that whole KEEP the water down thing. Semantics...
The pain when I woke up was strange. It really did feel as though I had had body parts cut off. Huh, go figure. Over the bandages I had an ace bandage wrapped tightly around everything, and the compression helped a lot. It was extremely painful, but somehow not what I expected. Through the haze of the pain and the drugs, all I really remember thinking is, "Wow, my back doesn't hurt!" Even that soon, I was already noticing a difference.
I was finally released around 7 or 8 PM. I dozed all the way home, and once I got into the house I went directly to the recliner and passed out. The anesthetic was NOT letting go of me. MIL left for a short while to go get the girls and Matt, and the only thing I remember from that evening is hearing the kids talking. I tried waking up to say hi to them but it was like I was on a completely different plane of existence.
Finally, around midnightish, I woke up and was wide awake. I was able to get up and get myself two more Lortab, and even sliced myself some cheese to go with turkey and crackers. I went into the bathroom and just stared.
Wow...they were...
gone...
