Ouch

About 2 weeks ago I had my first surgery ever - a tonsilectomy.  After dealing with yucky issues from my beat up tonsils due to lots of step throat in my life I finally made an appointment with an ENT to get their opinion on things and they recommended I take them out.  He explained that it is an elective surgery and I wasn't in any harm, but that it would be best in the long run to get it done to avoid the same issues over and over.  I was in.  Sign me up! 

 

He explained that at my age it is a much more painful procedure than a child and that recovery is about twice as long.  Ok, I guess I'm still in.  Then when he started talking about cutting things I kinda got queasy so I huried up and scheduled a surgery before fear changed my mind.  I figured now is as good a time as ever.  My parents could stay for a couple of days to help out and the kids are both in school.  Let's do it! 

 

Once I got home my mom started googling things and gave me a heads up that recovery looks hard, so I googled things and read horrid stories.  I read enough to be informed, but not enough to freak me out - kinda. 

 

Surgery day came and I was nervous.  My parents took care of the kids and Brian took care of me.  As the sweet nurse started putting the iv in my hand it hurt more than usual.  Then she tried again and I felt things all wiggling around in there and got woozy.  I am NOT a fan of needles, or blood, or skin lacerations or punctures and I know that about myself so I tried so hard to breath deep and look away.  But then I could tell I was slipping away and told Brian to talk to me - tell me something to keep me from fainting.  Last thing I heard was him talking about hiking up north mountain on our trip to Virginia in a few weeks and I was out cold.  The next thing I heard was Brian saying "Ang, Ang - are you there?"  Having done this a few times in the past I knew what had happened and my first thought was "Dang it!  I fainted AGAIN?  I am such a wus!"  I blame it on not eating, but at least I have proof that it hurt.  This beautiful bruise took at least 10 days to start fading. 

 

The nurse was great though.  She took great care of me and ended up putting the iv in my arm without any problem. 

 

They wheeled me up to the surgical room, I layed on the table, they strapped me in, and boom I was out.  Surgery went well.  Recovery was tough.  I barfed about 3-4 times so they zonked me out for a while until I stopped barfing.  Again, the nurses were great.  I felt so bad for being so disgusting, but they took it in stride and were so so so wonderful.  After the barfing stopped they wheeled me to meet Brian and we headed home. 

 

The next couple of days were a blur.  I slept and took pain meds.  I was happy to be able to at least whisper for a few days, but man oh man did it hurt.  The worst part was I had to take liquid pain meds and it seriously tasted like battery acid (or at least what I would picture it tasting like!) and it hurt sooooooooooooo bad to swallow.  At least the payoff was worth it.  It did help ease the pain. 

 

Here is my lovely self laying in bed.  This is pretty much what I looked like for a week straight.  Me and my ice pack watchin tv looking pretty awful. 

Here is my caretaker Dusty laying on my lap in bed.  For a week straight I didn't venture far past the bed or shower.  He was my buddy while Brian and my parents took care of my life and the kids. 

 

Here were my favorite go to foods, including the many treats people brought by.  I was deeply touched by the daily visitors that dropped by flowers, popsicles, smoothies, movies, ice cream, jamba juice, frozen yogurt, etc.  I also appreciated good friends that drove my kids to school each morning and watched them after school until Brian could come home from work.  I felt very, very loved and looked after and reazlied I am so blessed to have such good friends and people in my life.  My cell phone became a huge blessing too.  I couldn't talk, but I could text or email and I appreciated the many loving texts and offers to help too.  Good friends and family really are the best things in life.

 

I have to give Brian a special shout out because he really and truly was amazing.  He took the kids out for daddy night/days so I could rest, made dinners, and did everything solo for a week straight so I could recover.  And he made sure I had everything I needed.  He is such a calm place for me to land and I love him with all my heart.

On the first night after I came home the kids came in to give me a hug.  Later that night after bedtime, Grant asked Brian for a piece of paper and a pen.  He wrote this sweet note all on his own and slid it under my door.  It was the sweetest thing ever.  It says:  Dear Mom, I hope you get better soon and I hope you can get to do stuff again.  From Grant.  Isn't that adorable?   

 When I wasn't sleeping or learning the latest happenings of the Kardashian clan on tv, I decided to up my civil war knowledge by reading this book I've been meaning to read for at least 10 years or so.  I joked with Brian that it really is a page turner for someone like me that pretty much only knows who won the war, but not much else.  It was fun to put myself in the setting in Lexington because our first house was a few blocks from Stonewall Jackson's house, and now I guess I kinda understand why they have his horse stuffed in the museum at VMI, and Lee's horse buried down the road at Washington and Lee University.   

Here I am about 9 days later, feeling a little better.  It still hurts, but not lay-in-the-bed-and-do-nothing hurt anymore.  I can tell it is getting better each day.  I can sleep through the night without having to wake up every 4 hours in pain for more meds, which is nice.  I can run a few errands, and can take less meds now.  I'm sure in about another week I'll be fine.  Oddly enough, it hurts to yawn.  I guess there are yawning muscles back there that are still recovering.  I don't regret doing it.  Two weeks of pain is not a bad payoff in the long run for another 50 years or so of no tonsil issues. 

Little dude however got hit by the barfing bug Monday morning.  I got the dreaded 8 am phone call from the school saying he had barfed in math class.  Oh no!!  He was soooo sick all day/night and this is him today (Tuesday) zonked out on the couch for FIVE hours!!  I think he's turned the corner and is getting better now. 

What an adventure!  Hopefully we'll be all better and ready for spring!