Well I did it, I got screwed.

Isn't it kind funny how for, like, a year I've had nothing of real substance to say, yet I came here to wax philosophical and yada yada yada, and now... I have real shit to say, and a lot of it, and I can't bring myself to be here. At first it was because I didn't want to think about it. Like, really, I was filled with so much dread I couldn't think about it. I mean dudes, YOU ARE SAWING MY HIP INTO THREE PIECES! Who wants to think about that?! So... I didn't. I mean, weirdly enough, I did a bunch of prep work, I rearranged the house so it was handicap accessible, I bought all the shit that comes with these types of surgeries, but I did it without actually THINKING about the surgeries themselves. I went to Florida, I took my daughter on a special trip to New England and New York City, and I barely thought about it at all.

And then, July 10th came, and part of me was like, holy shit, I guess this is really happening, despite the fact that I have successfully avoided thinking about it for months now. But guess what? I went into the hospital, had the damn surgery, and it was still like it wasn't happening. I came home, spent a week pretending it was business as usual, minus the walking and all that, and then July 17th came, and I was like, holy shit, I guess this is really happening! And the morning of July 17th, the morning of the PAO, was when I pretty much started to fall apart. Like, first of all, my arrival time was 5:45 AM at the hospital, and it seemed like Monday morning chaos, which I get, but doesn't exactly lend itself to you having a great feeling about having your hip sawed into three pieces and screwed back together. Then the anesthesiologist came in and I swear he was high, or hung over, or something, and he was so weird it was kind of freaking me out. I thought it was just me, but after he left the room, my husband joked, 'Wow, I think he's had a few.' But no worries. This is the just the guy who is going to KEEP ME ALIVE during surgery! Totally not a big deal. LOL. Eventually my surgeon's PA came in and gave his usual (not very convincing) You're going to be fine, you have one of the best surgeons in the world pep talk. Then the anesthesiologist came back to put in an epidural (did you know those aren't just for child birth?) and by that time I was so worked up, I was crying or sobbing or doing something that made the anesthesiologist bark at the nurse to give me some Versed through my IV. Then he told me, 'It will make you happier. And if you're happier, the rest of us will be happier, too.'

And that's pretty much all I remember. And then I woke up. So I lived to tell about it, which is why I can joke about Dr. Crackhead. (He actually ended up being one of my favorites; more on that later, perhaps.)

The End.

Not really, of course. That's more like The Beginning. You know, the first 24 hours were really not bad. The epidural was still in, so I had pretty much zero pain. And I was fairly drugged up, so I slept a lot. On Day 2, I started to get uncomfortable, and the drugs started wearing off, and the catheter started to get uncomfortable, only I couldn't really move AT ALL, so I started to get antsy. AND, I got diarrhea and horrible stomach cramps, which is RIDICULOUS, because all those drugs they give you are supposed to give you constipation. And I did get horrible constipation with surgery #1, so I think I overdid my anti-constipation actions for surgery #2, and I'm not sure which one is worse, to be honest. Gross topic, I know, so let me just say that the diarrhea was HORRIBLE. Diarrhea and GI distress is not welcome under any circumstance, but diarrhea and GI distress when you are bedridden and any movement causes excruciating pain is probably among the most unpleasant and undignified experiences I've eeeeeeeever had. I'll leave it at that, because I'm not trying to make you throw up or anything.

I remember from my DIEP surgery that the second and third days afterward were the worst. The catheter comes out, so you have to get up and move around to at least go to the bathroom, yet you're also being weaned off your pain meds, so there's a lot of pain. It was about the same with this surgery. Days 2 and 3, I spent a lot of time crying and feeling sorry for myself. And there were times when my pain levels were just absolutely through the roof, times when I actually screamed and scared the nursing aides out of the room. But for the most part, I think I've blocked it out. As bad as I was expecting this surgery to be, those days were even worse than I expected. But, it got better pretty quickly, more quickly than I had imagined. My surgeon had told me that the first few weeks post-op were going to be very, very rough, so I was prepared for that. And don't get me wrong, it's been rough. But, once my pain was under control about 72 hours post-op, and I could start moving about a bit, it wasn't as bad as I was expecting. The extreme misery was pretty short-lived. By Friday, I had started the hospital's occupational/physical therapy program in preparation to go home, and I left on Saturday morning. It was good to get home. The hospital was in a city two hours away from my home, so I spent a lot of time alone during my stay, which was pretty hard at times.

And now... here I am. I think I'm still sort of in a weird state of denial, even though I'm fully in the thick of things. I just have no desire to try to recall or mull over the details, which isn't normal for me. I just feel so... detached? It is hard to say. I promise to write more later, now that I've broken out of my non-writing funk. It felt good to at least get that much down. Peace and love. :)