Surgery went fine. Everything fine. I just got home (8:30pm) - exactly 12 hours after they took me into the OR.
Where’d my 12 hours go? Well, 3ish hours for surgery, 4ish hours to wake up enough to be able leave (did I tell you I spent 10+ hours in the car yesterday between work and driving to UNC?) an hour or so to actually do the leaving, and 4ish hours to get back to town, fill the prescriptions, pick up ice cream and come home.
The first dose of Percocet wore off 3.5 hours ago and I took Tylenol in the car (around 5:30? gotta pay attention, Don says 5:50).
The Percocet made me feel awful, so I’m planning on taking it unless I’m still awake and can’t sleep 5 hours from now. He didn’t prescribe an anti-nausea medicine I don’t think…. haven’t read the details on the packages yet.
The subject line of this post is, of course, a quote from Miss Scarlett O’Hara. It doesn’t apply to me now, but it was exactly what I was thinking all through my drives yesterday and the 3 hours of waiting between waking up and being taken in this morning.
The biggest, no the ONLY, mistake of the day was giving Don the wrong phone number for my parents. They had to wait an extra hour to hear from us because I wasn’t awake enough for him to explain that the number wasn’t working. The first hour and a half I was keeping my eyes open for 5 seconds at a time, the second hour maybe 20 seconds as I was able to Tweet on twitter at that point, but only once. The third hour I was up to a minute maybe, but still definitely struggling. I remember thinking “why should I wake up when I’m just going to sleep in the car all the way home.” It was after 3 when I got my clothes back and Don went to get the car around 3:15 or so.
The laptop screen is making me a bit dizzy, but my iPhone seems to be better.
This post is way too long anyway, how will I convince any of you that I feel gross?