Total Knockout

It's pushing 1:00 am and I can't sleep. (Party animal!) Probably had too much fun in my troll-ish sleeping under the bridge episode with the general anesthesia. Man was I out. The whole day was a bit funny. I wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything, but sometime around 10 am-ish, I cracked and ate a deviled egg. If I go too long without eating or drinking, I can get really ill, causing a major drop in blood glucose which has a couple of times scared me into thinking I was having a seizure. Or maybe I did have a minor seizure. Not today, but in the past. But whatever. So I ate the egg. I really didn't think it would be that big of a deal. The way I thought it was all going to go down was that I would get a mild sedative, and be slightly awake for surgery, not a full blown knockout. Flash to pre-op, and all of a sudden it was a big deal, with all these threats of vomiting myself to death. Now, I'm not a newbie to GA, or the dangers of eating before surgeries, but I honestly didn't think this whole thing was going to be that big of a deal. Was I scared? Hell yes. Did I also know that the surgery had to happen and that it'd be advantageous to get over myself and just deal? Ya, you bet. Did I think 45 calories would bump me back on the ticket? No. Not really. Then, a nod through the curtain from my fantastic surgeon who reminded me (I had forgotten, or conveniently blacked out) of the fact that I was also getting a resection on the left boob as well. So I was the winner of a bilateral situation. Oops. Forgot about that minor detail. Double the fun.

So, after delaying the surgery for 2.5 extra hours because of deviled egg-gate (Spent playing charades with mom in pre-op. Side note: turns out we are decently acceptable players), I was wheeled into the OR at around 3:30 pm. Cut to some hot liquid entering my body via my IV, and a sleepy feeling, and then a mask over the face. The next thing I remember is being wheeled out through the doors from the operating room to post op. It was quarter after five, and someone said, "How are you doing?" And I said, "I just got so much done! I've been in meetings all day, answered about 200 emails." Then the first voice giggled and burst my bubble, telling me that it was all a dream and that I just finished surgery. A confused grin spread across my face; I wasn't convinced. Then, reality hit (probably as the drugs waned out of my system) and I was kinda bummed. Clearly, my subconcious thinks I'm some sort of kickass CEO or something. Not a bad alter ego to have, better than an endless dream about cleaning vomit after vomit after vomit or losing a knife fight, I guess.

I was released from the hospital sometime in the late six o'clock hour, just in time to finish up rush hour traffic. Perfect. We were home a little after 7:00 pm, and I proceeded to eat everything in the house. A true Oldwyn. Never lacking a desire to munch. Some people wish for more energy in life, I wish for a quell in appetite. At age 33, though, it may be time to just give up. Things probably won't be changing.

Side note: Shouldn't these Oxy pills be making tired? What the fizz. I will never completely understand narcotics.

Lots of favorite parts of my day, but only one with a photo. Surgery waiting rooms these days are like going to Chilli's. They have buzzers for when we're done, or if there's an update with our condition. Very fancy. Note: I haven't been to Chilli's since 2001, so don't be upset when they don't have the buzzer system. I was just illustrating a point. 

It is both very fun to be awake this late, but also exciting to think that I might be able to tickle Dan awake in the five o'clock hour for work. There's not much more in life I love than waking people up. It's perversely gratifying for me. It's like this, in my mind, "Ha! I caught them! And they're asleep!" Not to trumpet my skills, but I'm pretty good at catching people. Here's a trick, make lots of friends who are night owls. But that's all I'm going to give away.

Cramped Cottage

I'm still carrying the love that was shown to me over Friday Harbor fundraiser weekend, so thanks guys (especially Courtney, Melissa, Candyce, Rene, Leisa, Mike, and Kaal for putting on the barn dinner). I'm pretty calm this morning, even knowing I have a date in the OR at 1:00 pm today. I'm more upset that I can't have a cup of coffee or eat anything. The anesthesiologist mentioned small sips of water. Boring. I should have eaten a big dinner last night. Like a big fat bun-less buffalo burger with brie cheese. Rats. I wish I could eat the blackened chicken breast in the fridge, or the deviled eggs, or the sprout salad I grew and harvested (just gotta toss some of our tahini sauce on it). Yes! Or anything. Oh, the macadamia nuts, or the soy nuts, or the celery or cucumber to munch on. I'm desperate! But a hot cup of delicious coffee with a tablespoon of grass fed heavy cream....yummmmmmeeeee. The creaminess. I guess that would be my #1 choice.

I've been distracting myself, but now I'm just ready to get this overwith. It's supposed to rain from now through the weekend, ugh, I'm going to get cabin fever, I can already feel it. There's only so many episodes of Nova that I can watch. I'm all about nature, but I can't stomach the animals eating each other, blood all over their coats. Yuck. I've definitely gotten smarter without cable (literally), but it has also ruined my ability to zone out at mindless TV. I lose interest. 

Alright, I'm off to do some ironing. Here's a few fun pictures of things growing in the house and the garden. Hope you find them as cool as I do. I'm a simple girl, easily excitable.

Before

After

Day 1

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5 (still growin'!)

My sprout condo, so I will never go a day without broccoli sprouts. Which of course  I do because I'm terrible about timing. 

Hope you all have a great weekend. Fingers crossed that the doctors will say I'm cleared to walk on the treadmill, so I can bust out of our little cottage and make my way to the gym. I'm not into soggy walks. Soggy runs? Sure. Because when you run you keep warm. I've tried waking in the rain and it's miserable. Awful. I feel like a dog that's getting a bath. Not fun. I'm rambling. I'd better get my act together, my parents will be here before I know it and there are a lot of unhappy wrinkled shirts glaring at me from the couch. I'd better save them.