Same Song, Second Verse...

Early 2010
So my husband takes the day off work for my polypectomy. We pack up Little Z, with her entourage of toys and snacks and diapers, and go to the special surgery center at the hospital. I'm starving, since I'm not supposed to have eaten for 12 hours or whatever, and since this is a lunch-time operation, the last opportunity I had to eat was the middle of the night. I had woken up for my last opportunity to drink water though.

So we're sitting in the lobby, filling out forms. My daughter is eating blueberries. Omnomnom. She pulls out a half-masticated berry and feeds it to me. I absentmindedly eat it, and continue talking to my husband and signing forms.

Then we're called back to the desk to turn in our forms and answer more questions and cough up insurance cards, etc. The lady is coming back from Xeroxing our insurance card when she catches my daughter popping another half-chewed blueberry into my mouth.

"Oops! No food, remember! Close call!" Ummm.... Shit. I spit that one out... but I had still eaten the first one!

We debate whether or not to come clean with the docs... and we finally do, when our special waiting room nurse asks me if I've eaten anything in the last umpety-ump hours. Yeah. Just one blueberry though. 

So my doctor comes in and tells us the risks involved. Any food could come up and get inhaled and kill me, worst-case scenario. Plus I suffer from acid reflux, which I don't even tell her. Which increases my risk of something like this happening. She gives us a few minutes to decide. 

I'm mortified, and don't want to have wasted everyone's time. DH doesn't want to risk anything happening to me over something so stupid. We kind of decide to go ahead, when the doc comes in and says "You decided not to risk it right?" Weeeeeeell. "I talked to the anesthesiologist, and we both feel like the risks aren't worth it. We still have time for lunch, so our time wasn't wasted, and I'd never forgive myself if something happened." Fine. Twist my arm.

A frickin' blueberry.

So I go back on my BCP and we reschedule for the next available opening. This time, my husband doesn't feed Little Z if I'm even in the room. And no blueberries!

My daughter (around 20 months-old) is thrilled that the nurse uses the pulse machine thing on her finger after checking mine. ("White finger pinch" she calls it. Now she asks for it at every doctor visit.) She is sad that they don't have a BP cuff small enough to fit her, but the nurse humors her and pretends.

No hitches. I go into the OR, get hooked up with an IV... by the anesthesiologist's assistant. Ugh. He has to try a few times, which is not cool when you suffer from needle phobia, like I do, but I got lots of practice coping during all my tummy jabs with the IVF meds. But still. Jeez. I also tend to get chilled easily. If you're feeling quite comfortable, I'm a bit cold. If I'm feeling just right, it's a little warm for you. That kind of thing. But they had nice, warm, toasty blankets all over me. Mmmmmmm! And air pump leg massagers. Ahhh. This is the life... except for the needles, and scary medical procedures and such!

"Okay. Count down from ten for me..." 10.. 9... 8.... "Hi there! How are you feeling? We'll just wait a few minutes until the doctor is done talking to your husband, then we'll bring your family in to see you. Would you like some juice or some crackers?" 

Oh, hells yeah! And keep 'em coming!

So it all went well. She got all the polyps, etc etc etc.

And this time, we got before and after pictures! Ewww.