Last night I begged my husband to take me behind the barn and shoot me. I was pretty sure I was the broken horse that would never get better. I'm only vaguely sure this is not the case this afternoon. I am feeling a bit better, but my incisions and my muscles hurt more. Having this right after a c-section really sucks. It sucks hard.
A few things from the surgical center. I was right. It felt nothing remotely like a hospital. It felt like a doctor's office... down to the pretty cabinetry.
I liked the nurse. We had a good first meeting. I stood on the scale, and she moved the big hefty marker to the 100 spot. As if she was sure I was under 150. I wanted to hug her. And then I gently explained that she'd be moving the big hefty marker. (I also made sure she was aware that I just had a baby)
As I was walking up to the entrance I noticed that across the hall from the surgical center is a plastic surgeons office. That is exactly when I kept my radar out for potential nose job girls. I was sadly mistaken. There were no women hoping to rectify a mountain on their face and move it to their chests. It was mostly old people and young kids. The young kids broke my heart. They all cried in pre-op. A lot. And it freaked me out. Because in June we will be in that place with Gavin. I can handle all the surgeries medical science can throw at me, but I am fully unprepared to comfort my baby through one. We learned that after Bunny's teeth.
The old people were all there for colonoscopies. This worried me. Because colonoscopy and cholecystectomy kind of sound similar. I wanted to make sure I was devoid of one gallbladder when I woke up and not violated by a camera to my rear side. (Congratulations! No polyps!)
The guy in the stall next to me was hilarious. I know I shouldn't have been listening, but did I mention I was left in a bed in pre-op for hours? And who are they kidding about privacy with a curtain? We could all hear what everyone was there for. Anyway, guy next door to me could barely speak English. I'm pretty sure the only thing he could say was "I have a cigar. Every day. One cigar. Every day." he also had taken "something for the sleeps" the night before.
And one last story from the surgical center. They wanted a urine sample from me. (oh joy) What was weird about this scenario? As I walked into the bathroom, she handed me a tiny paper Dixie cup. I had to pee in a Dixie cup. It was weird. Why not the regular plastic ones with the screw-on top? I knew this surgical center was not a hospital. A hospital would have had real pee-in-the-cup cups.