I've done a good job of avoiding it up until now, but I can't deny that I'm definitely feeling the anxiety of tomorrow's surgery. Let's back up to the avoiding it part. This past weekend has been all about Jenny-Jane, Rapunzel and Barbie, in that order. Jenny-Jane turned three on Friday and I worked in her preschool classroom where we celebrated the little lady in grand style with a big purple Rapunzel cake. We then progressed to chocolate pudding pie Friday night and a glorious Barbie cake on Saturday, courtesy of my ever-so-talented sister Diane. Presents consisted of everything Barbie and I think I counted seven new dolls on her floor this evening, all naked as jay-birds, of course.
Unfortunately, as of 10:57pm tonight, Jenny-Jane is still awake. She is an intuitive little thing and knows that Momma is up to something again. I gave the kids a quick speech tonight during dinner that "Mommy is going to have another operation tomorrow, and I won't be able to pick you up for a while and I will need to rest in bed, but I'll get better quickly so please don't worry. I'll be just fine." Jenny-Jane quietly hung on every word, while Fisher interrupted me before I finished speaking with "Are there rats under our house? Let's go look!" I knew he'd handle it just fine. Jenny-Jane is worried and won't go to sleep. I just sent her to cuddle with Nick in our bed and hope we can get her back into her own bed before morning.
If you talked to my plastic surgeon, you would think I'd have nothing to worry about. He said surgery is at 9am, it will last an hour and I'll be home by noon to make Nick lunch. Yes, he's kidding about lunch, but seriously, I'll be home before noon. This is true outpatient surgery. How can they cut me open, remove these horrible hard tissue expanders, get the implants in, sew me up, send me to recovery and then get me home in three hours? Just doesn't seem possible.
But none the less, I am worried. Not about how the surgery will go, but about the recovery. I have such difficult memories of how much pain I was in after the last surgery, how depressed I felt, how I could not raise my arms for weeks, how I couldn't brush my own hair or stay awake for more than a couple hours at a time. I've been told that this surgery is far less taxing than the last, but the memories haunt me.
I was told I'll wake up from surgery with a great feeling of relief to have my expanders out, and I really, really look forward to that. Eighteen months in this internal iron bra has been more than enough. I'll be wrapped like a mummy around my chest for two days and get the bandages off on Wednesday at the big reveal. I was also told that I must be up and walking two hours after surgery and then pretty much continuously when I get home. My surgeon warned "If you lay around you will get blood clots in your legs that will travel to your lungs and you will die." No mincing words there. So look for me on the treadmill at the club come Tuesday. Jeez, I was hoping for a little more R and R, I'm getting gypped!
Oh, and what bra size will I be upon waking from surgery? That's yet to be seen. Doc said he ordered implants ranging from 400cc's to 700cc's. He is under my strict orders to shove in the largest ones that will fit. Nick is horrified, but I'm psyched.
So we are off to St. Joe's at 7:30am tomorrow morning after dropping Fisher off at kindergarten. Wendy (who gently glided back into our family routine after arriving from North Carolina last night), my sister Diane and Nick will all be at my side as I get wheeled down that long white corridor. I expect that Nick or Wendy will be posting tomorrow with an update of how it all went down. I hope to be too loopy on pain medication to be writing myself, but then again, that could be fun too. Wish me luck, here we go!
p.s. I just noticed that I've got 99 followers on my blog. How cool is that? Who wants to be lucky 100?