Yep. This is backdated, fer sure. I was in no state to write on the day of my surgery, let alone compose coherent sentences!

Anyway, I went in for breast surgery today at 12:30 p.m. This is twelve hours after I learned that surfing the internet at light speed under the influence of  Tylenol 3 can make a person barf, big time. I spent the rest of the night worrying about dying from my infection prior to surgery (think Jim Henson) or dying during surgery (think my grandpa) or waking up in recovery without a left breast (think neighbor lady).

Around two in the morning, I woke up to discover that my giant red lump had developed a purplish center. Since I still had no fever, I calmly called our nurse hotline and chatted with Barry, who assured me that I was not going to die–abscesses sometimes develop purple centers. He told me to truck down to the emergency room if I developed a fever or red streaks (I knew that having googled my condition extensively). Overall, he was sweet and reassuring; he made me feel much better. Mwah! Big kiss to Barry.

How ironic that someone who worries so much over her health in general could be taken by surprise and wind up needing a surgical procedure. Someone should have told me to see the doctor if a milk duct is plugged for more than three days.  I also should have started pestering the radioligist sooner. Waiting the extra day and a half for surgery allowed my abscess to double in size–the difference between a needle in a doctor’s office and general anesthesia in the hospital. Well, I survived the ordeal–

9:00 Arrive at Dr. Rubble’s office.  The nurse gasps when she looks at my abscess. She puts some pain relif lotion on it and tells me that the doctor will be in to lance the abscess shortly. I balk.

9:15 Dr. Rubble enters, non-chalantly looks at my breast, frowns at the nurse  for putting on the lotion and tells her to schedule me for general anesthesia and a Incision and Drainage at noon today. I was rather expecting this. I actually request an IV from Dr. Rubble since I feel so dehydrated from last night’s puking festival.

10:45 At the hospital with Tennisfiend, with the IV sloshing glucose, electrolytes and water into my system. A loquacious asian nurse makes me comfortable and continues a dialoge about asian culture with me nonstop until her lunchtime. I appreciate the distraction.

11:00 Momfiend and her backpack arrive. She leaves in an hour to relieve Fontessa, who has been babysitting Tyoma.

11:15 I am grateful that I brought my breast pump, since one is not readily avaible. I pump for a half an hour and worry about genral anethesia while TF tries to stay awake. My abscess is spectacularly painful and I can’t take any meds for it.

11:45 The anesthesioligist arrives. He is a short, swarthy Robert Duvall with an inscrutably dry sense of humour. To prevent another barf-fest he orders medication to prevent nausea. Oddly enough, the anti-nauseant nauseates me. Bring out the pink puke cup!

12:00 The chatty nurse returns to inform me that Dr. Rubble will arrive shortly. In sotto voce, she tells us that he is running late.

12:30 The nurse starts the happy meds. I’d be sillier if I weren’t so groggy. Pain decreases, yay!

12:45 Dr. Rubble arrives and I am whisked off to the operating chamber.  They put a mask on me and my lights go out.

1:??  I wake up in recovery, still thinking i am in the operating room about to go under. Everything is foggy. I try to make some jokes, but clearly I’m the only one who realizes how hilarious I am. TF arrives. Dr. Rubble gives me detailed instructions related to wound care. I repeat everything back to him. He gives me a prescription for oxycodone. The next hour  mysteriously disappears.

3:30 On the way home my lack of pain meds kicks in. Every bump is agonizing. I curse and whine at TF in a never ending stream. He escorts me to the couch and heads to Walgreens to drop off prescriptions. At home Mom listens patiently while I blather on endlessly. Must be some drugs left in my system!

4:00 I call Pat to let her know I survived the surgery (she told me I would) and to beg her to stop by with some trashy mags after work. Fontessa naps and Mom continues to listen to me blabber non-stop.

Sometime after the pain meds kick in: Ewbliette arrives with a super sweet halloween ghost-bag full of goodies: The Enquirer, Star, Sun, The Globe, Weekly World News (“Alien Mummy Goes on Rampage,” YAY!), Acoustic Guitar Magazine (for TF), chocolate covered macadamia nuts, and my favorite cheaparoonie candy–a Christoper’s Big Cherry! Ewbliette takes over for Momfiend in listening to me prattle on, even giving me a foot massage! Friends and Family rule!

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