Warning: This post may contain a few TMIs!
Greetings all! My surgery (D&C with Novasure procedure) yesterday went very well and I’m spending the day resting in my comfy fleece pajamas. I’m just slightly sore, with only the need for some Tylenol every 4-6 hours. While I feel a little down that I’m banished from the gym for one week and the pool for three weeks, I must admit that I’m thoroughly enjoying having my wonderful husband here with me today, treating me like a princess, as I rest.
Before my surgery, I was warned that I could experience some unusual effects from the anesthesia, like waking up agitated or crying. Though I remember very little of yesterday, apparently, my reaction to the anesthesia was the exact opposite as confirmed by these texts that I sent to friends and family:
“Woo Hoo! I’m all done! It was fun! Wooooooooooooo!”
“My vagina good with stars!! Wooooo!”
“It went great and I high!” Wooooooo!
” Ima all done! I did great! I can’t use heavy machinery, but I’m going to Cracker Barrel for pancakes! Wooooooo! Hooooo!”
“I’m high as a kite! I can’t use heavy machete (sic) right now, but everything is good!”
While waiting for me in the recovery room, my husband could hear me being wheeled down the hall, as I high-fived the staff and yelled “Woo Hoo!” to the top of my lungs. Before I was brought in, a laughing nurse approached my husband and said “We’re bringing ‘party girl’ back to you!”
I then proceeded to laugh throughout the nurse’s usual post-op warnings to not sign legal documents for 24 hours, drive, or operate heavy machinery. My husband told me I went through a litany of different tools, asking if I could use them: “Can I learn to drive a Bobcat? What about a forklift? Can I at least use my Dremel to sand glass?” I also managed to drop the “f” bomb while describing how great the cocktail of drugs was that the anesthetist had given me.
After post-op instructions, the surgeon (who happens to be a good friend of my daughter) came in to check on me. I reminded her that we’d all just “had a party at my vagina.” We high-fived and she and the staff hung around for a bit being silly. Once I drank some water and ate a few saltines, and was acting less like I had just been the star attraction at a frat party, I was allowed to leave. Of course, there were hugs all around from the staff, and my nurse told me that I’d made her day.
As promised, my husband took me to Cracker Barrel for pancakes and bacon after my long pre-surgical fast. By this time, I was only slightly drowsy and fully able to behave myself in public.
Have you ever had surgery? Did you behave yourself post-op, or did you turn into party girl/boy, like me?