The O.R.

This could take a while to get through.  I guess I’ll just have to do it in installations.

Our O.R. nurse what a blast.  While I was in triage she cracked jokes with us, was hyper and silly as hell.  She kept telling us how much fun we were, and how most people were no fun at that hour.  I would have told her that I’m usually no fun when I’m woken up early, but since I never went to sleep it didn’t seem to be a problem.  I wasn’t even getting hungry, thanks to Dad’s nifty little super seed.

(BTW, they were chia seeds.  Yes, chia as in chia pets.  The seeds are apparently really good at helping you release sugars slowly, and are even better for you than flax seeds.)

When the labor and delivery nurse came in to talk to our OR nurse, our nurse made faces behind her back and rolled her eyes.  She was apparently not a fan of hers, and didn’t make any attempt to hide it from us, which made me like her even more.  The anesthesiologist came in to let me know what was going on, and exactly what he was going to do when we got into the OR.  He was so much nicer and calmer than the doctor I had when I had Ashton (and considerably younger, and a bit cuter).  Then they wheeled me into the room.

My sunny and bubbly disposition vanished.  I instantly began shaking violently.  They kept telling me it was cold in there, which I could feel was the case, but I knew I was terrified.  They got me on the table, numbed me from the waist down, and laid me down on the table to prepare for surgery.  Aaron could see through the window the needle that they put in my back.  Thankfully, I could not.  From the way he described it, I would have had an instant panic attack.

The music was an interesting mix of country from every decade, 80’s pop, and some more recent top 40 hits.  When Madonna’s Vogue came on, one of the nurses commented that she was unfamiliar with the song.  The others in the room where shocked to hear this, and talked about going out dancing to this song.  Jokes were made about my OB being a dancer and he declared that he was a disco king.  Everyone started laughing and I commented that I didn’t want to know what was happening on the other side of the sheet (they had the sheet up at this point, but had not actually started surgery yet).  For my benefit, my doctor came over to where I could see him, and struck his disco pose once more.

They let Aaron in the room, and got started working on me.  Most of it becomes a blur at this point.  I remember smelling burning flesh (I had a tubal while they did the cesarian section) and I remember feeling lots of pressure as they pushed her down (she was still sitting pretty high).  The only moment during the surgery that I remember was hearing the words “the gay-dar really worked on that one.”  Thinking this was an odd statement I asked what they were talking about.  (Actually I asked if I had actually just heard the word gay-dar).  They all laughed and told me that they were talking about American Idol, while they were cutting me open.  Seriously, I’m not sure how I’ll ever take my OB-GYN seriously ever again.

The nurse standing next to me smiled and told me she was out.  All I could think (and apparently say) was “Cry, cry, cry, come on cry, please cry.”  I needed to hear her voice and know she was ok.  Finally, once they got her airway cleared, she let out a very loud and healthy cry.  And I cried, and then I threw up.  I’m pretty sure those things weren’t related, just happened close to each-other.  My anesthesiologist tried desperately to give me anti-nausea meds, but nothing worked.  I was going to be sick whether they liked it or not.

They quickly finished up, I felt lots more pressure, and they wheeled both me and our new little bundle of angry to my recovery room.  As soon as she was out of the womb she was rooting (between screams) so I was able to nurse her right away.

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Published in: on September 22, 2009 at 3:55 am  Leave a Comment  

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