Still here

My adamantium plate, I am now Wolverine.

Blogging this from my beloved recliner.  Obviously, I made it through and I'm still alive.  Not even a near death experience, dang it.

Yesterday Craig and I arrived at the surgery center and got all checked in.  As the tech was taking my vitals I saw there was a vinyl lettered sign on the wall listing Intermountain Healthcare's values.  I remembered being tested annually on those.  I asked the tech if he knew what they were and he fumbled around, guessing, not even close.  That was funny.

The nurse started my IV while another nurse asked me all the preop question, rate my current pain, blah blah blah.  He referenced Brian Regan's pain scale skit and when we told him we were huge fans but hadn't seen that one, he found it one his phone and handed it to me.  It got me laughing so hard I couldn't stop and was a great way to put me at ease.  Asked him if he knew the values.  Nope.

We had to wait awhile for the actual surgery and by the time the OR nurse and anesthesiologist came into my room I was a bundle of nerves.  Craig kissed me goodbye and they wheeled me in.  I moved over to the skinny OR table and craned my head looking at all the big lights and machines.  I knew it was just another day at work for them but it was a singular and frightening experience for me.  I asked them if they had ever had surgery before and Dr. Clissold said, "Oh yes, Kris has had a brain transplant."  Turns out they both actually had been operated before and that made me feel better, that they could empathize.

I was determined to keep my eyes open even as Dr. Clissold said he was giving me something to make me feel sleepy.  Nope, not sleepy.  Not sleepy.  Not.....

Fade to black.

Waking up in the recovery room and telling the nurse that I had dreamed about biking, which she said was strange because most people don't dream.  I don't remember having the dream, only saying it.  Wasn't hurting but was HOT, sweating all over and feeling like I had a thousand blankets on me.

She soon wheeled me back to the surgery center where Craig was waiting for me and it turned out that I had been gone about three hours.  Before the surgery, we had scoffed when we found out they had blocked out a two hour time slot because surely the whole operation couldn't take more than an hour.  Craig said that Dr. Murray had come to see him and told him it went well but that there had been a third piece that hadn't shown up on the X ray that he had to tie into the configuration and there was still a gap so he used a piece of cadaver donor bone.  That was surprising.

Everything went pretty quickly after that, waking up and sipping juice and getting out of bed to walk around and receiving my instructions and being wheeled out of there.  The post-op nurse, McKenzie, said that years and years ago when she was a teenager with a ruptured appendix I had taken care of her and she remembered me telling her that she had to get out of bed even though it hurt.  I hope I was nice to her.  She didn't know the values.  Dr. Clissold and Kris hadn't either.

Drove home, determining not to be nauseated and I wasn't for the most part.  Deana offered to keep the little boys overnight which was great.  Got home and parked in my recliner.  Heather came to visit and then we watched a movie.  It was a nice quiet evening, drifting in and out.

Last night I slept in the bed next to Craig, woke in the middle of the night for a couple hours and then slept for a little bit again.

And this morning I feel pretty good!  I quit the Percocet after two doses, it makes me to groggy.  I think Tylenol and Celebrex are going to handle things just fine.  I even showered and ate Fruit Loops.   Just waiting for my little boys and for Grandma Lynn to get back from Mesa with Ellie.

So grateful to live in a day of modern medicine.  And a little confused.  We went to the doctor last week and he said he didn't think it would heal well without surgery but we were unconvinced.  The research said that 70% of people with my break healed fine without surgery.  I kept going back and forth about it, my mom squarely on the side of not needing surgery, until Craig said it was enough research and we should probably get the surgery.

So the way it turned out, I probably wouldn't have healed well without the surgery and would have lost a lot of strength and ability in that right arm.  Why didn't I receive more direction on it?  Why didn't the Spirit tell me clearly that I needed it?  I feel like I was left to myself.  Little unclear about that.

So nice and peaceful sitting here with my laptop and my phone and my book and my scriptures and soon, a nap.