I arrived at the hospital at 6:30am to check in for pre-op services. My husband accompanied me to a small bed bay surrounded by curtains. I changed into the hospital gown and got my two IVs started. They gave me some medicine to relax me and before I knew it, I was being wheeled to surgery. The room looked like the ORs on TV but less chaotic. I had to scootch myself onto the OR bed myself, and that is the last I remember. I remember being in the recovery room and only being able to speak one word answers. Things like "puke" to mean "I'm nauseated."
The first real thing I remember is being wheeled from recovery to my hospital room. My parents and husband were there. Mostly at this point I slept. I don't remember my day nurse, but my night nurse was a young guy named Chris. Chris kept the pain meds coming and really helped me to survive. At that point I was not drinking or walking... I was just laying in bed trying not to cry and I kept thinking "why the hell did I do this to myself?"
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