I made it - hurray!

Okay, so the last entry was allegedly the day before the operation. Or so we thought..... I went in as planned at 7.30am and was still sat, gowned up and ready at 5pm with IV fluids due to dehydration! The op was cancelled because some poor soul had been in theatre for 6 hours that morning.

I was given 12th May as an alternative. I was convinced something would go horribly wrong and struggled to be brave in front of the children. Oddly enough, this experience was really different. The people on the ward were different and there were 2 other women having the same op. The 6 of us in there had a fabulous time chatting and it really helped! Went to theatre at 11.45am and got chatting to the nurse on reception expecting her 3rd baby. It was when I went in to the anaesthetic room that I began to lose the plot slightly. Once on the bed, I burst into tears! The blokes were very kind, giving me tissues etc. I was still sobbing as they injected the drugs. And then that curious nothingness. Oblivion. The thing that scared me most of all was actually not scary at all....because I woke up. The clock in front of my face said it was 2.15pm. Had quite a bit of morphine for post operative pain and my blood pressure obviously had kept them entertained as I was dimly aware during the handover of the nurse saying how many doses of ephedrine I'd needed to bring it back up again. It was still only 98/45 in recovery - I checked. I could never be a drug addict; my blood pressure doesn't cope well with opioids. A mere sniff of the stuff and I'm practically on the floor.

Was a complete space cadet when I got home last night. Woke enough to eat some tea and babble to P on the phone but the rest is hazy. Today, the children are at their Auntie C's and Mr G will bring them home when he finishes work. Have spent the day in my PJs, done some laundry but mostly lazed about feeling muzzy and very sore. I have 4 wounds with stitches and even though they aren't big, they are sore. Then there's the actual site of the missing bit that's sore; then there's the after effects of the carbon dioxide they pump into your abdomen to open it up. The gas has to disperse and it hurts all the way to the shoulder tip! Minor stuff, but I'm a crap patient and hate being remotely incapacitated.

Tomorrow I'm off to see the GP about the depression/anxiety stuff. It's the anxiety episodes being most tricky - the crippling fear, seeing death and danger everywhere. It makes me someone I don't like very much and it makes me cross and jumpy with the kids. I don't want to be in hyperdrive all the time. I don't want to be scared to go to sleep in case I don't wake up (how bonkers is that?!). So we'll see what he reckons this time. In terms of depression, I'm faring quite well. It's May, the days and nights are lighter. I think the seasonal element is a definite factor. Plus, there's been a lot of happy stuff going on. And I made it through an operation my constant companion told me repeatedly would see me off. I get to have lovely snuggles with my little ones soon. And with my husband!