Dear God, Please Make It Stop.
Since I know you’ve been just salivating for more details of the Black Dog Surgery Shenanigans (here and here), let me allay your fears of not knowing how this cliffhanger ends. Well, you kind of already do, but let’s just pretend I’m not really telling you this. Yet. I think. Damn, now I’m confused. Hmmmmm……
Anywho, when we left off last week, Nurse Claire had hooked me up to the happy juice and the hubby was making fun of my comparing it to shots of tequila. (Made TOTAL sense to me.) So now that the feelings of anesthesia-anxiety had quite dissipated, I was pretty much up for whatever came next. I do however, remember telling the hubs to make sure he took care of the furball. You know. Just in case Mama Dawg didn’t make it out alive.
After I don’t know how long, because, you know – happy juice – Nurse Nancy came in to whisk me away to the OR. It was like getting wheeled into the Overlook Hotel. Minus the creepy dead twins. And the Big Wheel. I think. Happy juice, remember?
After what seemed like miles, Nurse Nancy finally turned into the suite and all I could think of was, “Look at all those friggin’ machines! Where the heck is the guy gonna stand to cut me open? THEY’RE ALL ON THAT SIDE OF THE TABLE!” And then I happened to notice the anesthesia guy. (Who just may or may not have been a total cutie patootie. I’m leaning towards total hottie. But then again, how hot can one be in one of those ridiculous hats?)
So after scooting off the bed and onto the table, cutie patootie threw an oxygen mask on my face, walked over to my IV, and said “this is what’s going to put you to sleep, okay?” I got as far as saying the OH part of okay, and was out. And I mean OUT. Out as in I don’t think I’ve ever slept that great in my life. No dreams, no nightmares, just good old dead OUT. Not unlike this guy!
The weird thing about going out like that, is you wake up just as fast. All of a sudden, I open my eyes, see a friendly face working on a computer next to my bed, and quickly deduce I am now in Recovery. (Freaking brilliant aren’t I?) Let me tell ya, the recovery unit in that hospital is Union Station at rush hour crazy. I think it was only about an hour after Nurse Nancy had come to get me, so The Man #2 had certainly cranked through his portion of the program, and now I was happily back in Happy Juice Land. All I remember is I kept lifting the blanket to see this huge dressing on my leg. I just couldn’t comprehend the fact the surgery was already done and over with. I must have had a giant goofy grin on my face and said something typically ridiculous, because I soon had not only my recovery nurse, but the one in the next curtain, laughing hysterically. Because that is WHAT I DO.
A fast hang time in recovery, and back to post-op we go. Back to the anxiously awaiting hubby. (Not so much. Man found himself a tap-room across the street. I would’ve been seriously disappointed had he not). A pair of crutches and a comical attempt at trying to get my street clothes back on later, and I was OUTTA THERE. Being the tough chick that I am – okay, maybe it was just the leftover happy juice talking – I volunteered to take the stairs. One look from Nurse Lindsay, followed by a “yeah, don’t think so girl”, and into a wheelchair I go. The lobby was only one floor down but let me tell ya, happy juice and elevators can be a lot of friggin’ fun. A LOT.
So endeth the tale of Black Dog’s Surgery Shenanigans. My only conundrum is I really hope I didn’t say anything too embarrassing to the cutie patootie anesthesia guy when I was out…
Up next: Black Dog Recovery Shenanigans. Stay tuned! You know you wanna!
Enjoy the ride.
Let’s hear them! I know somebody out there has a funny happy juice/anesthesia/recovery room story. Divulge state secrets while you were out? Unknowingly flirt with any surgical team cutie patooties? Wake up with a strange phone number on your dressing? C’mon….you know you wanna tell me!