In and Out...
A quick shot of goofey juice, a kiss for my lovely wife and it was lights out. All I remember is starting that last prayer...now I lay me down to sleep. Then, nothing...
I don't really remember waking up, at least not in the sense that I remember once defining point of "being awake" from the surgery. Most of the time when I have surgery, I remember. Be it pain, someone telling me to breathe deep, etc. This time, I stayed foggy for a long time. There were no sharp moments of terrible pain. There were no nurses yelling for me to breath. It was quite peaceful, the bits I remember. It was quite frankly, not a lot of pain for the surgery it was.
I am sure the staff moved with the same grace they had shown in pre-op. I will never fully remember them. I will always be thankful. I just won't remember who to be thankful for.
It strikes me as odd that every surgery and it's "In and Out" period of coming back to consciousness seems different. I know, I pay attention to waking up. I have this irrational fear of being put to sleep for surgery. I don't like surgery, I don't like anything about it. This one was different. It wasn't elective. It wasn't for something minor. This was for everything. This surgery is my only real shot at a cure. If it fails, I stand an almost impossible chance of winning the battle with Cushing's. This one was for all the money.
I have a lot of bits and pieces for memory that first evening after I woke up. It is mixed with shadows. I knew I had made it through surgery and that was enough. Soon, I would start to wake up more and I would begin focusing on my first goal, getting out of the hospital. To do that, I knew they would subject me to tortures I didn't want to do...like eating.
I don't really remember waking up, at least not in the sense that I remember once defining point of "being awake" from the surgery. Most of the time when I have surgery, I remember. Be it pain, someone telling me to breathe deep, etc. This time, I stayed foggy for a long time. There were no sharp moments of terrible pain. There were no nurses yelling for me to breath. It was quite peaceful, the bits I remember. It was quite frankly, not a lot of pain for the surgery it was.
I am sure the staff moved with the same grace they had shown in pre-op. I will never fully remember them. I will always be thankful. I just won't remember who to be thankful for.
It strikes me as odd that every surgery and it's "In and Out" period of coming back to consciousness seems different. I know, I pay attention to waking up. I have this irrational fear of being put to sleep for surgery. I don't like surgery, I don't like anything about it. This one was different. It wasn't elective. It wasn't for something minor. This was for everything. This surgery is my only real shot at a cure. If it fails, I stand an almost impossible chance of winning the battle with Cushing's. This one was for all the money.
I have a lot of bits and pieces for memory that first evening after I woke up. It is mixed with shadows. I knew I had made it through surgery and that was enough. Soon, I would start to wake up more and I would begin focusing on my first goal, getting out of the hospital. To do that, I knew they would subject me to tortures I didn't want to do...like eating.
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