the one about that time I had that thing removed so that I could once again eat pizza

Noah and the kids drove me to the hospital very early yesterday morning so I could have my gallbladderectomy. Liliana, upon learning that we were going to a hospital, asked, “Are we going to cut a baby out of my tummy?”

Noah took yesterday, today, and tomorrow off so that he could be with the kids and take care of me for the first couple days. He was pretty stoked about this, as he is one of those guys who would make a great stay-at-home dad. He cleans, he does dishes, he does laundry, and he absolutely loves caring for his baby (and the other two).

I was asked by two different nurses if there was someone who was staying with me, and it made me kind of sad I had to be there alone, but I have a lot of anxiety about leaving my baby, and there’s no one else I’d rather leave him with than his dad. So, company and anxiety or loneliness and peace of mind? I’ll choose the latter every time. And, I didn’t have much sitting around waiting kind of time, so it really wasn’t so bad.

When the surgeon came to meet with me, we had this little conversation as he was going over the consent form with me:

“… and don’t do any heavy lifting for a week or two.”
“Is 23 lbs okay?”
“Twenty-three pounds?
“That’s how much my baby weighs.”
“Well, maybe get him to crawl to you.”
“He doesn’t move yet.”
“How old is he?”
“Almost seven months.”
“A 23-lb seven-month-old? Maybe you should get some help for the first little bit.”

He and the resident seemed to be quite shocked at the size of my little guy. I say “seem”, because I had already taken my glasses off and could not see them. I couldn’t see the consent form either, which means that I took his word for what was on there and then signed my life away.

The nurse checked my height and weight from the pre-op form and asked me, “Were these stated by you or did they weigh you there?” WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY, LADY? Then, when I was on the table with the doctors and nurses and anesthesiologists, the doctor asked me how much I weighed. READ MY CHART, MISTER! Now everybody knowwwwwws. But, when the surgeon called Noah to tell him how everything went, he said something like, “Well, there are two things we like to see, someone who’s thin and a good-looking gallbladder. It’s a good thing your wife is thin, because her gallbladder was quite inflamed.” Thanks, doc.

I don’t remember much after “this is going to make you sleepy”. When I woke up, I was offered toast and accepted it. It took me a long time to eat that toast. For one thing, I kept falling asleep, mid-chew, and for another, my mouth was so dry that I had to take a huge gulp of water just to get a small bite down. It was quite annoying. I think the surgery took longer than it was supposed to, or maybe I just took a long time to wake up, but the nurse originally said that I might be out of there at 11:30am. But, when I looked at a clock for the first time after waking up, it was already 1:00pm. I didn’t ask many questions, though. It was done and that’s all I cared about. I’d heard horror stories about the hospital I had my surgery at, but everyone was so kind and funny and I can’t think of anything that could have gone better.

(My proofreader/husband told me, after he read this, that the surgeon called him at 9:10 to say he was finished and give the report, which means that the surgery was quick and my waking up was not. Apparently I was tired.)

Recovery has been … okay. I’m sure it would be a lot easier without kids, but I kind of like having those three little goobers around. Twice today while I was laying in bed feeding Preston, he kicked me in the belly button, where my most painful incision is (I have four). I had thought that laying in bed to feed him would be the best, as it hurts too much to sit up and feed him, even with pillows, but maybe there just isn’t a best way. I put a thin pillow between him and my belly after that, and that seemed to be alright.

I can’t lift Preston and that has been really hard on me. I have to let Noah get him every time he needs to get picked up and although Noah is awesome with him and Preston loves his daddy, I feel quite useless. I’m very independent and I like to do everything myself, so relinquishing control has been difficult. I even got to have a babysitter on Monday night. Noah took the girls to swimming lessons and I wasn’t supposed to be left alone or left in charge of a child, so Russ, my father-in-law, came to look after me and Preston. He was paid in baby snuggles.

Noah is taking the morning shift tomorrow and my friend Chris is coming over tomorrow afternoon and Thursday. She is being paid in Nutella and coffee. I like to take good care of my babysitters. As of right now, I’m walking like an old lady, I’ve been wearing the same shirt for nearly 48 hours, and I can’t shower until Thursday, at the earliest. My poor family.

Filed under: NaBloPoMo, me, sickness