It started as any other surgery day, 50 questions from every nurse, the urine sample, the temperature-controlled hospital gown (Oh, how I wish they'd make casual clothing with that feature.), the hospital socks with the treads, the compression sleeves on the legs.
The plastic surgeon came in and started marking me up. I've had that done every time, but this time it was much more extensive. By the time he was done with me, it looked like he had done a topographic map of my whole torso. It was hilarious! We would have taken pictures, but you know, NSFW. Let me substitute it with this map of the big island of Hawaii instead...
Then after waiting a little while longer, they gave me my happy juice and wheeled me into the OR.
I woke up feeling a little sore, but that quickly escalated, so they gave me a pain pill...and some pretzels because I hadn't eaten all day...and some water because I was parched and any pretzels I put in my mouth just turned to paste with the lack of saliva.
My next step in getting out of there was going to the bathroom. For some reason, they don't let you leave until you pee. I didn't even have a catheter in, so I don't know why it's an issue, but I digress... Of course you have to call the nurse in when you decide it's time to go, so I did, but my regular nurse was at lunch and the replacement was very confused. I hadn't realized that I was wearing a full-on girdle after the procedure. I knew I'd be wearing a compression garment, but I didn't know they'd be full-on capri length. The nurse had to call to ask how I was supposed to go to the bathroom while wearing them. (I was still drugged and not really comprehending what was going on at the time.) After talking to the other nurse, she was told that my garment had a "slit" that I would have to hold open in order for me to go.
She offered to give me some help. You know, hold it open for me so I could go. "I've seen it all, honey." No....no thank you.
So, I made my way to the latrine, wondering what a simple thing like going to the bathroom was going to entail. As I sat down I realized it was more than a slit. It was more like a gaping hole. That's right people. They had put me in crotchless spanx.
I'm totally calling the band name Crotchless Spanx. It's mine.
Anyhoo, moving on from that subject....
After a very long car ride home because I didn't request an anti-nausea patch (lesson learned) and once the pain meds wore off, I sat there asking why people would do this if they didn't have to? Why put your body through trauma just because you don't like a little gut or think the angle of your nose is a little steep? Don't get me wrong, I love my plastic surgeon, but he works with the hospital and helps people look like their old selves after major surgery. It's nothing like you'd see in an episode of Nip/Tuck.
So, here I sit. Scratchy throat, sore abdomen, spanx...compressing, still covered in marker because I can't shower until tomorrow, rambling on about something that really doesn't need to be such a large blog post. All I can say is if you don't have to do it...don't do it!!!
*Of course, I'll probably feel much better about all of this once I'm healed...
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