Osteochondroma

I know you might find this amazing, but the world doesn't stop when you're in the middle of a personal crisis.  You think that it would, that it should, but that's just not how life works.

I had all my surgeon questions written in a Note on my Blackberry.  We had packed.  I ate and drank nothing after 11pm the night before (come to find out it's so you don't regurgitate anything during surgery that would subsequently flow back into your lungs...I always wondered that).  We were prepared, damn it.

Ha!

No.  No, we weren't.

1. They make you take off all your clothes.  I at least thought I could maintain some semblance of normalcy by holding on to my underwear.  Nope.  They mean everything.  Strike 1.
2. They tried to put the IV between my wrist and my elbow which is just weird.  That is not the normal spot (and let's be honest, I know what that is).  Add to that the initial catheter was defective and broke off in my blood vessel potentially causing major issues, and an hour into our hospital visit I'm quietly losing my mind.
3. The surgeon walked to the prep room with a photo on his iPhone of his previous tumor removal (he was unaware, it was strapped to his hip).  I later found out it was a seven pound tumor removed from my room buddy (to whom we never spoke) in the hospital that night.  Dood.  This did prepare me for the question he eventually asked: "Do you want a photo of it?"  Do I want a photo of it?!  What kind of question is that?!
4. The answer was, of course, Yes.  Yes, I would like a photo of it!  (No, that will not be a photo of the day).
5. And then, he signed my left shoulder.  I was so taken aback by this I didn't even ask why.
6. I still get asked car questions even when I'm naked, hooked up to an IV, and about to receive so much anesthesia I'm just hoping to remember Mike's name when I come out of it.  Strike 2, Happy Gas Guy.
7. I am completely incapacitated, to the point of being unable to open my eyelids, and they're thinking of sending me home rather than spend the night in the hospital.  I can barely say my own name and you think that's the way to go?!
8. We had to share a room.  What is this, an 80s episode of General Hospital?! 
9. The nurse had the gall to say due to sharing a room there was a possibility Mike wouldn't be allowed to stay.  I'm not above admitting it was the only time I started freaking out.
10. I won't even go into the story of my first potty break (which happened to be the first attempt at movement I made) after the surgery.  Privacy curtains.  They are there for a reason, people in the medical field.
11. I do not exaggerate when I tell you it took 5 seconds after the first shot of narcotic pain killer for me to throw up.  I love freaking nurses out.
12. Let me just say this: it will be a long time before I eat anything resembling apple sauce again.
13. How many orderlies did I have to tell NOT to touch my left arm to attempt a blood pressure cuff?  What part of scapula surgery did you not read on the chart?
14. WHY DOES EVERYONE IN A HOSPITAL INSIST ON SLAMMING DOORS?!
15. 4 inches.  That's how long the incision is.  That's how big the scar will be.  4 inches is huge.
16. Surgery causes you to shake.  Uncontrollable, body twisting shakes that you can't physically stop.  The was one of the scariest moments of the whole ordeal.  And is, apparently. completely normal.
17. I have gone through life thoroughly taking the use of my left arm for granted.
18. Mike is one of the biggest blessings I have ever received.  If not for him...I'd have a lot less fun recounting the story of our first medical malady together.

I took this on our way to the hospital.  Really, today's post is more a picture of words.  But I figured this would be a good ending.