It's the Final Countdown! WARNING: Graphic Pic attached

"Hey sis... wake-up." Huh? Wha? Wait... I just hit the pillow 4 1/2 hours just flew by & not in a very comforting or relaxing way. I'm hazy from the xanax & wine. YES... I stopped before midnight I'm not that irresponsible. Oh crap... I haven't packed my hospital bag, screw changing, no make-up aloud, so no need to doll up, not that it would have made a difference. The fear inside along w/my looking like death mixed w/the stress of unpreparedness was enough for me to just simple say out loud, "Fuck it... here we go." A bed has been prepared for me in the back seat of my mom's Mercedes SUV. BUT... mom is not driving... big bro is so we make it there in record time not without my mom stressing about the speed a bit. I wake up & we're there. I have my own entourage... believe me I wish it included Kevin Connelly too, but instead just my loving family members (mom, big bro & sister-in-law) The doors to Emory University Hospital slide open and the sound resembles that of the starship enterprise. Oh yeah... beam me up, put me out... Hell... put me down. Much is a blur as I am filled w/such fear it really is indescribable. Clothes off, gown on, Uggs into baggies, do I want them or should Mom take them home? I really don't give a rat's ass. Hop on gurney, roll into room with mom as only one family member is allowed to go with me. Oh and my mom and I almost run into a wall before I even made it to the gurny. Only my mother & I could manage to almost kill each other on our way to a pre-op room. My real anesthesiologist comes in and introduces himself... um... is he old enough to administer Flinstone chewables much less anesthesia? Oh fuck... then enters HIS assistant who is even younger & of course a resident. I am given some initial drugs to calm me & then it's time to be introduced to the lil' bastard I will soon come to know and refer to as Southern Louis Cypher (Lucifer) That prickly little fuck... but he'll have his story time later. In the meantime... lil' missy assistant is flubbing clumsily with my left wrist while telling me how she imagines LA is so cool etc., etc., I tell her she can go & do her thing, but for now could she actually find a vein rather than test every cm of my left wrist out w/the needle. I swear if I wasn't already out of it and still had the strength I would have taken my right hand & slapped her upside the head while yelling FIND IT ALREADY BITCH! The pain was excruciating and that was just the I.V. for the local. I am then told for the first time I will be getting an epidural. Say what now? Now I should have mentioned earlier... aside from my obvious fear of needles... the thought of having one in my spine has always scared the wholly crap out of me. My mom assures me this is what they did for her hip surgery & it really is the best. I was promised I wouldn't feel a thing. I look at my mom & cried & this scared my mom. Upset really, because I think at this point I really DID look like her little girl she once knew. They came over to finally administer the epidural & at this point my mom felt she should leave. Then... enter my sister-in-law. I am so scared & SO out of it. This part is pretty blurry, but I guess even in my haziest I had no problem posing for a pic... of course w/a signature fuck you finger to boot and how convenient the monitor was on that finger too:
My sister-in-law tells me I'm doing great & says other soothing words & next thing I know I'm in the OR. I remember big, bright lights, tons of equipment & still feeling scared as shit. Oh man... the drugs aren't working. Fuck I may never wake up this could be it, so much I didn't do, why am I a slave to my job? I never got married, no kids is obvious... please don't take my ovaries... I... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The following is REALLY GRAPHIC as it is an actual pic of my Uterus sliced in half. This was sent to me by the chief resident Jason per my request. You all will be grossed out, me... well... it's part of me so I was more fascinated with the aspects of it as I thought... hmm... sure doesn't look like all those medical diagrams you see in health class or in the gyno's office, plus I'm wondering if it's upside down? I mean I always thought it was V shaped... this is more blob shaped if blob is considered a shape... again... VERY GRAPHIC, but if I'm going to give this blog all of the truth to my experience... Pootwa & I need to show it all... the good the bad & the ugly... come on I can't have ugly pics of my filling this blog entirely:


"Laurie... you're all through. You did great & everything looks good so far." Hmmm? What year is it? Who am I? Where am I? I want my mommy.

Next thing I remember I am wheeled to my room... a single & I am told I am on the best floor of the hospital w/a great view. Whoopeee. What about my ovaries? Do I have them still? I think about it for a moment... do I ask Susan the very sweet Southern speaking nurse or wait & ask my mom? Oh time is ticking, this is taking forever... wait what are you doing? Why are you moving me more? Vitals? Now? Why I just woke up? What? why? Oh crud. Finally I can't take it anymore, "Um nurse? Did they take my ovaries?" She grabs my chart looks through the paperwork, "Lets see... it looks as if they took your left, but kept your rig... oh no wait... no they took both." I begin to whimper and she then says thinking she's being comforting, "Oh honey it's alright, they took mine and I'm just fine." Now forgive me, but this will sound horrible but the woman was older and all I could think was... well yeah you're old... Right at this point the door to my room opens & standing outside is my mom, brother, sister-in-law, nephew & niece. I lock eyes w/my mom and burst into tears crying, "Mommy they took them, they took 'em. Not them... I wasn't ready... nooo..." My mom looks at me smiling w/tears and says, "They took what munchkin?" I almost screech w/my reply, "My ovaries!" My mom calmly shooshes me and says, "Sweetie... they didn't take them. You still have them baby girl. That was one of the first things the doctor made a point of telling us. You're ok... just relax now"

Relax is an understatement & one no one should have even attempted to utter to me because I hardly relaxed from that point until the time I left the hospital. No sooner did my mother utter those words than a group of people come in to take my vitals which consists of putting the blood pressure sleeve on, take my temp & hook that clip to my finger. That's fine... I'm good with that, BUT then I'm handed some apparatus I am told to inhale from. One half has a thing that floats up to 2500 ml and another part that has a yellow thing in it that has Best, Better, Good. Now my nephew who is 16... he's a high schooler & of course privy to things. Come on... most his age are. So as I am inhaling he gets the slyest smirk on his face which I catch from the corner of my eye & I swear I almost bust my gut. I shot him a look and under my breath said, "Stop it! You're gonna make me laugh!" He giggled. God I love my nephew! He's such a crack-up.

Well now of course it's photo op time & so my sister-in-law thinks it would only be appropriate to have me pose w/my I Heart Guts Ovary & Uterus... I sort of remember, but I don't & thankfully she didn't show me what it looked like afterwards or I would have flipped. At this point I have NO clue that my entire body has ballooned to an unusually large state.
For the first time I KNOW why I'm single. What a beaut!

So family leaves... I think... ah peace & quiet & time to fade out and get some sle... "Hi we're here to give you a blood clot preventing shot." Huh? What? Why? More needles? "Oh don't worry sweetie, this is every 8 hours so it's not so bad." Not so bad? Every 8 hours? Are you fucking kidding me? No sooner do they leave then another round comes about 45 minutes later... "Hi we need to take your blood for monitoring purposes." You took blood yesterday & last week and... what could possibly have changed? My blood type? Are the Cullins here? Was it that bad Twilight reference I made earlier? Ok.. ok... Kristen Stewart is a good actress (Sorry I'll never be able to admit that... just take the blood) "Don't worry honey we only have to take it a few more times after this and then you're done." A few more times??? How few is few? 2 or 10??? What is YOUR idea of few? What is Emory University Hospital's definition of few? Well... exactly 5 more times over the span of 3 1/2 days of my stay to be exact. Oh wait... I almost forgot... ow... I'm in pain... um hello? Hi... I'm in pain can I get something? "Oh sure sweetie. I'll be right back." Being right back is about as questionable as "a few". Seemed like forever. Then a nurse comes in with a syringe... Oh for fuck's sake no! Not another shot I can't handle another one. No please, please, PLEASE... wait where are you putting that? In the tube oh thank go... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

JUST as I think I'm off to La La Land knock knock. Why they ever bothered to knock is beyond me because whether I answered or not they still came in. Oh goodie... it's two of the residents who come in to "check" on me. Yes... I am still drugged out, yes I am in pain & yes I'm EXTREMELY tired would you mind letting me have a few more z's? Well one of the residents' name is Sony & yes she is Asian and no I'm not making this up. Her side kick is also an Asian girl who's name escapes me and for good reason. These two residents came to be my 2 very disliked visitors. They had the bedside manner of Annie Wilkes from Misery. They inspected my incision which by the way was not stiched up, but rather bonderd w/some sort of human super glue like substance & then tape going all across as you can see:
Kinda creepy. I mean I still question the strength of Super Glue. I never did trust the old commercial w/the guy squirting a small amount on his hard hat that he then stuck to some bar flying high above the ground & that was before blue screen.

Anyhoo... so Sony and let's just call the other one Panasonic... they eyed me once over again & then said, "Ok... well we'll let you rest." FINALLY! No NOT finally. Guess it had been time long enough to pass for the Vital checkers to come in AGAIN! Blood pressure... check, finger in clamp... check, thermometer in mouth... check. "Oh... you have a slight fever." Slight? Blood pressure good though. Really? Cause I'm boiling mad right about now w/all of your invasive comings & goings. Then I hear an eerie yet familiar sound. Wait... am I in a hospital in Venice or Hollywood? Why do I hear a ghetto bird? And why is it getting louder? And louder & OH MY GOD is a helicopter about to crash into my room? No not quite, but thankfully only landing on the heli-pad that is situated directly to the right of my window 3 floors down. Are you kidding me? Oh keep in mind... earlier when I was told I had one of the best views in the hospital they also tried to guss it up by saying it's like the penthouse suite. Penthouse where? The hood? I mean I get it. Medi-vacs are super important, but don't try and tell me I'm in some grand suite in a W Hotel. I'm not THAT drugged up. It's official... I'm not in a hospital I am in Hell.

After finally able to doze off thanks to injected happiness of whatever painkiller they injected I am awoken at around 6am w/the oh so unpleasant blod clot preventing needle to the left arm "You sure you don't want it in your thigh?" Um... yeah I'm sure. Then business as usual... blood takers come and drain me... poke, poke, poke. Vital checkers... fever a bit higher, blood pressure a bit low. Then around 9am-ish Ira visits. "Well how are we today?" WE are not fine... "Ok let's take a look at the incision." This by the way is when a doctor is really not caring how you are... this is when they want to inspect the artwork they have created & this is when they gloat at their handy work. At this point I had a stomach support belt around me covering my incision & giving me the only real comfort I could only hope to get from a mere hug. Ira opens it up with one full swoop... sound of velco inserted here. Then he essentially does the pulling of the table cloth off the table without disturbing the flower vase trick... ripping the only security blanket literally out from under me. "You don't need this any more. You're young, your stomach will snap back into place on it's own." But... but... you bastard. "So... you gonna get out of that bed today & sit in that chair for me today?" Huh? Who are you? Satan? It's official... I no longer like Ira. I hate him & his little minions in tow. Then Ira takes another gander at my stomach & has some concern. It's quite distended which isn't a great thing. I am now told I will have to get a CAT scan. Normally I'm a cat person... this CAT term though... not so much! Um what does said CAT scan entail? How many pricks do I get for this & is there fear of being opened up again? The fear is this bulging in my tummy is a big ol' blood clot. Oh joy. Can I NOT get a fucking break here?

One last bloodletting, vitals check & off to the CAT scanner we go! I am scared shitless AND none of my family is here at this point. I am praying to just be knocked out and wake up on the other side from this nightmare w/all my limbs in tact. I sort of remember the CAT scan. I asked for a sedative beforehand because I really was losing it. At least no creepy sounds like the MRI. I'll give it that. I mean it wasn't exactly purring, but it wasn't scary. Or that was just the sedatives. Back in my room I am informed... no clot, just gas. Gas! Lovely... Reason # 72 why I am still single. So now that that is over you think it's time I get to rest right? Oh no... you do remember what Ira wanted me to do today right? I had a date w/a chair next to my bed. Ok so let me get this straight... go through traumatic experience after a major surgery the day before & now my goal is to get up, "dangle"... yes they said "dangle" my legs over my bed then place both feet on the ground, bend at knees, straighten myself up and... walk to the chair then sit down again. Oh joy. My family comes to visit at this point & everyone is in tow except for my niece who got a tad ill from the whole hospital experience the day before. Understandable... she is only 12. My family, who is completely clueless to what I have just endured come in and are so excited & proud to see me sitting. Oh & flowers had been delivered the day before by my family with the arrangement looking like it has a doggie attached & my Aunt, really one of my mom's best friend's, but she has always been Aunt to me... she too sent a beautiful arrangement w/a happy face balloon so my room isn't entirely depressing:

My family stays for as long as they can then they see I need to get back in bed & get more blood drawn & that usually is the time one would want to exit. The rest of the day is the same as the day before, no sleep, vitals, blood, blood clotting prevention prick, squirt of pain killer, bad tv in back round & attempted sleep.

Day 3 Today we go for a walk around the floor. I do a couple laps. Oh goody. My brother & sister-in-law visit... they decide they're going to begin tapping the other I.V. & give Lucifer rest. Well that sounded great in theory and all but for whatever reason the minute they put whatever I was needing at that time... potassium, nutrients, whatever... when they connected that I.V. line to one of the capped I.V. connections in my right arm... there was one of THE MOST painful waves of pain shooting through my right arm. It was a combination of burning & stinging & the taste of metal shot in my mouth. I screamed, looked at my brother for help & was just crying like a baby. I can't tell you how much this hurt. As much as I hated Lucifer, I demanded he be turned back on. Little fucker. So they switched it back and of course under the tape keeping Lucifer all snug in my skin... blood trickled out a bit along w/whatever fluid of choice they were giving me. well I'll tell ya what fluid they have to give me now... PAIN KILLING fluid. I was still in excruciating pain. My brother & his wife were a bit rattled by this whole scene, but once the drugs kicked in and they saw I was floating to a better place, they calmed down. They eventually gave me kisses goodbye and left. I was in my room alone and for the first time a bit more aware than the past few days of my situation & I thought... when I remember all this and document it in this blog I am going to be the worst example of how to handle a surgery bravely. Little miss smart-ass crying like a fucking baby. It's not brain surgery dipshit. People have it worse than you. Think about those that have to deal w/chemo daily. You're lucky now grow up & get yourself the Hell out of here. Do what they want, comply & the faster you can get discharged. Well as my nurses change their shift once again... it seems the pandemonium was dying down. No wait... oh here she comes for the anti-blood clotting shot. I drift off to sleep for a while and vow tomorrow I do a bunch of laps & get the Hell out.

To be continued...

Early Detection is key. Sisters & brothers, girls & boys... I'm serious and I mean SERIOUS!!! Get yourselves checked. Life is too short.

Love to everyone and even though they're happily in tact...

Ovaries out!

-L