Surgery

My first reconstruction surgery in Bellingham went fine. They have this cool patient tracking system for the people who are waiting. Looks kind of like the airlines arrival and departure boards. You track the patient with a number, and as they progress thru the pre-op/surgery/recovery etc the line changes color. And when it's done, they take you up to a room where the doctor can tell you, privately, how things went. If you leave the waiting area, you take an Olive Garden type pager with you in case they need to find you.

Back in my room, they hooked me up to a PCA pump, where essentially you self medicate yourself with morphine (up to a limit). I wasn't in a terrible amount of pain, but I was pushing the button. When I got up to use the restroom, and had to unplug and take my IV pole with me, we discovered that the morphine line hadn't even been hooked to my IV, so when I was pushing the button, it was medicating the floor. The nurse felt bad! She said I could hit her.

John had to go to work Friday morning, so Mom and Dad came and picked me up and brought me home. Slept all afternoon, most of the evening and all night. I'm wrapped like a mummy. I feel like Julie Andrews in Victor/Victoria. I get to unwrap on Sunday and take a shower. But I need to keep wrapped up until the 29th when I get my stitches out. At least I don't have drains to deal with. Ta-ta for now.