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Friday, February 15, 2013

How'd we all Do?

Since many of you have been emailing me and asking for updates, which I very much appreciate but can't keep up with, I figured I'd just cover it quickly here.

The day started just like any other: I got up, rubbed special cream on my boob, and sealed it in saran wrap. Then Ben and I dropped the boys at their school and drove to MGH for my surgery. Yes, we were late. Anyone who knows us knows we are time-challenged (this was what I told the elementary school principal last year when she called because my kindergartner was late a lot). In our defense, on Tuesday, there was still a lot of snow on the ground and people were driving like schmucks. So it was mostly out of our hands and nothing like the time Ben decided to stop and get a coffee at Starbucks while I was well into labor with E.

Anyway, on this occasion our tardiness did come with benefits; we were expedited through all the pre-surgery stuff.  Before I even had a chance to potentially freak out over what was about to happen to me, I was in the operating room, well sedated, and then completely asleep.Next thing I knew I was awake in some room where the clock said 7 pm and Ben was at my side. I think we had some conversation but I remember little of it as I kept falling asleep as Ben tried to talk to me (nothing new). I do remember him watching some nature channel on the TV that had no voice over, which was an odd but I suppose respectful choice. He then changed the channel and started watching a teen jeopardy championship, which we both agreed was more like an SNL skit. Then I slept as best as I could until morning (more from noise then from pain).

In the morning, I was visited by periodic strangers requesting a quick peep show. The plastic surgeon who came by was impressed by her own work, which I take as a good sign. Everyone kept asking me how my pain was and I kept saying, "I don't really have any pain." They attributed this to the nerve block I was given before surgery. As the day wore on, however, they started to doubt it was still the nerve block. I finally ate something, peed about seventy times (do some people really have trouble peeing after anesthesia because I apparently had the opposite reaction) and felt well enough to go home. Since coming home yesterday, I have taken Tylenol twice, more for discomfort than for any actual pain.

I can identify only two possible reasons I have been so lucky in my recovery thus far:

Theory A)  I was so well protected  under my moldy green blanket of love and healing that nothing could hurt me (thank you very much everyone! You did great. I think I even had a vision of Matt Damon in a teal sweater fighting Brad Pitt for my attention while visiting my happy place)
You can really find the strangest shit on the Internet
Theory B)  in a strange turn of events, I really am a bionic woman now. A bionic woman who needs a lot of sleep, but more powerful nonetheless.

p.s. this blog would likely be funnier if I was on some serious pain meds...


  1. Excellent Amy, excellent, excellent, excellent. Now go back to sleep.

  2. Yay! I am so glad it went well. Continue to heal my friend. xo

  3. Well done, Amy.

    I knew that you were going to kick cancer's ass. From the positive sound of this post, I wouldn't be surprised if you punctuated your f*ck you to the disease by ceremoniously dropping a live microphone on the floor as they wheeled you out of surgery.

    Just a few observations:

    - Yes, anesthesia can make it hard to pee, as I found out after shoulder surgery. But its mysterious powers are no match for the motivating force that follows the threat of a catheter placement. That can move mountains (or, more specifically, rivers).

    - If you are now, in fact, the bionic woman, can you please explain that photo in one of your earlier posts? I mean, jogging in a sweat suit sans shirt? Who does that? And who taught Steve Austin how to jog? He looks like he was coached by East German sportswear mannequins.

    - You were smart to miss the pre-surgery prep. It's a scam. Hospitals jack you up on meds and then allow Amway salesmen into your room (they get a cut of any resulting sales). I woke up after my shoulder surgery to find out that I had purchased $325 worth of lime-scented Tide.

  4. Hello Kevin,
    Thanks you for your educational insights on peeing, catheters and preop. I know all my readers will be better health care consumers as a result of your wisdom.
    As for my/Lindsay Wagner's jogging outfit, not sure what the problem is? she looks damn good in my opinion, and I'm betting you probably had a pin up of Ms. Wagner in your bedroom growing up. What I don't really get is the whole Lee Majors hairy chest thing, though.Why not just zip the jacket a wee bit more or wear a tank top underneath? Do you think the growth of his chest hair was bionic too and he simply couldn't control it? Maybe we'll never know.