June 4th was my decided surgery date. I had known about it for a month and, as the day approached, I wasn't really to fearful. I had never had surgery before. I had never spent more than an hour in a hospital and that was to visit a friend or relative in (usually) happy circumstances. I was completely unaware of the process that is a hospital/surgical ward. My mom had driven in the night before and stayed with me. We woke up around 6:30 and drove into the hospital. I had some direction of where to go but nothing too specific. Parking was in a crazy building and too far to walk to afterward. That I remember.

I walked in and was ushered from place to place, person to person. I had arrived two hours early, an hour of that I spent chit-chatting in the waiting room. At 9 o'clock my name was called, I was taken back through a full on maze, and prepped. Who can put on that plastic/paper robe effectively? NOT ME. I was covered in purple with paper cords and pull tags all over. I felt ridiculous. My feet were warm, that I liked.

I walked through my expectations, birth day, allergies, surgery, name with about 2049827 people in a 45 minute period. The surgeon came in, he was kind, the ana came in, he was kind, too. They talked about putting me under, what it was like, what I should avoid, how I will say funny things. My mom was there with my stuff. The needle in my belly to prevent blood clots--no one told me about that AND it was painful. Yuck. Can we avoid that please?

They finally gave me my cocktail and sent me to surgery. I remember floating down the hallway, feeling loopy, and then, in the surgery room, being moved to the metal table. I remember thinking "This looks nothing like Gray's Anatomy" and then passing out. I remember waking up crying, I was distraught for some reason--I remember thinking about my kids. then I remember recovery. Recovery was crazy. My glasses were off so everything was fuzzy AND I was fuzzy. I couldn't think straight. They brought me back to my room and my mom was waiting for me. I was so drugged up I wasn't feeling too much pain.

I then was told that I was going to have to go down to do the barium swallow and check my lap band. I was wheeled out, and wheeled around the hospital in that damn sheet/that damn bed. I felt like a pariah. They gave me the swallow with me hooked up the IV. It wasn't going down. I had to do the barium swallow again. It wouldn't go down. They put me in a wheelchair, made me sit for 20 minutes at a time etween those. Finally someone came in to tell me that the surgeon had filled my band too full and was going to have to get in the port and loosen it. I sat for 30 minutes, the surgeon came in, I was a drugged mess, lol.

I remember watching American Pickers for an hour and a half, and being half naked as that stupid gown kept coming off. I guess I should have had some shame...but the drugs and the pain kept me from that. Another barium swallow, a needle in my stomach, and a tying of the gown later and I was ready to go back. I got back to my room 2 hours later. My mom was told it would be a 30 minute procedure and it took over 2. At that point I was the last person in the wing and I was waiting to be discharged. I started to cry. The pain meds were wearing off, I was in pain, I was terrified at my choice...the nurse gave me more pain meds and I felt great. I kept walking around, trying to be semi normal.

Walking around and being productive after surgery is not normal, lol.

They wheeled me out 10 hours after I arrived, and I made it home around 6:30. The drive home was the worst. I was nauseous the entire 30 minute ride home, came straight home, and passed out til 8. From there I slept on and off, talked on and off, took meds on and off, ate ice chips when needed, and made it through Wednesday.

...overall, Wednesday was intense, emotional, and so much to take in. It was nothing compared to day two...