The invalid

Despite having the best sparkly vampire man in the world taking care of me, I'm not fond of being an invalid.

That's right - I'm home! I spent one night in the joint and forced myself to get up and around and eat some narsty hospital food so I could get the golden key the next morning from my plastic surgeon. I feel a bit worse today now that the hardcore meds have worn off, but things are progressing. I even got back on the green juice wagon this morning and feel pretty grand about that.

Here's how it all went down...

When I went in on Monday morning, the goodbye with Pete was rather quick before I was ushered into a changeroom to become surgery girl. After a brief weigh-in and many, many final pees, I waited in a big room with a handful of other cattle. We all looked nervously at each other as our vitals were taken and we were wheeled to our individual ORs one by one.

My surgeons stopped by briefly to mark up my chest and make some last minute plans about how much skin they'd take - all rather casual compared to the nervous gut I was sporting by that point. There was a student nurse starting IVs all around, but I managed to escape her wrath when my surgical assistant decided I needed to come now, damnit! So I got my IV started directly from the anesthesiologist. In that big room, with all those decked out assistants around me (albeit fuzzy without my glasses on), I was shaking like a little girl and fairly jumped when "my breakfast" was finally pumped into me. After a few breaths on the oxygen mask, I felt the telltale full-body numb starting to creep in and I was out.

When I woke up in the same room I had started in, I was telling the nurse someone had mistaken me for a gentleman in Palm Springs and she was laughing and tsking about it. I started saying my pain was a three out of 10 but then moved to a seven when I felt a twinge.

"Let's see how the morphine feels," I said.

"No problem, Ms. McCart."

Good, baby, good.

After that I was wheeled down the hall to an overnight post-surgical area - not the burn unit as I'd been promised - but I was too tired and well-taken care of to protest. I was uncomfortable, but not in any acute pain, so over the next several hours, I received some decent pill painkillers, but no further morphine.

Pete came by at 3 pm and took care of me until visiting hours were over at 8 pm, getting me the most glorious cup of green tea, adjusting pillows and such and just generally being sparkly and wonderful. When I realized I had to pee like the dickens I knew getting up was the promised land, so after my parents had come and gone, I decided to try it out. Sitting up the first time was brutal. Huge wave of nausea, hot, cold, sweaty shivers, almost blacking out, but a few well-placed facecloths and a fish and chip tray under my chin helped it all pass. My nurse was fabulous and I finally calmed down enough to get up.

Sitting and standing up without using my arms was bizarre, and man, I wished I had done more crunches the past several months. But I made it to the bathroom, pushing my IV like an old woman and shuffling along the hallway. After that first trip, I got up again before Pete left for the night so I could change my gown, brush my teeth and wash off some of the iodine from my neck. The gown buttoning up process while trying to arrange the two fluid drains hanging off my body was a supreme lesson in patience, but Pete figured it out and I got a glimpse of my chest. Not completely flat, but a tad mangled looking. Smaller bandages than I thought, and more skin puckering. Not really concerned about all that, though. Just wanted to sleep more.

That night I slept on and off while craving red meat. The nurses woke me up occasionally to take my vitals, empty my drains and feel my chest to make sure it wasn't hard or angry red. All was fine and when the nurses weren't shocked at my low blood pressure (which is normal for me) they were pleased with my progress.

The next morning Dr. T stopped by to check out his work and declare all looked good and I could go home if I wanted. I want, I want! After another disgusting breakfast of cream of wheat matter, I dressed myself and Pete came to pick me up. My parents came by with the girls later in the afternoon and Frances had a little meltdown but it was lovely to see them and sad to see them go again.

Pete cooked me up a big steak, caesar salad, baked potato and sauteed arugula. Fucking yum. Think that replaced some of the lost red blood cells & iron. I got to bed around 9 pm and slept pretty solidly until around 3 am when I woke up with an aching back from being in one position all night and a chest that was devoid of all painkillers. Um, ouch. I hobbled to the living room, turned on the fire and popped a codeine before slipping into another sleep for a few hours, completely unaware that it was snowing like a demon outside.

We've been socked in all day, the girls stuck at my parents, and although I feel tired and uncomfortable, I'm doing my bleedin' exercises and trying to keep my mind off the pathology that awaits me in the next two weeks.

It's done. And as far as I'm concerned, I'm cancer-free. Finally. Let's start a new chapter with this thing, shall we?