Saturday, July 31, 2010
The Road to Recovery
Apparently I did not do anything particularly ridiculous while I was coming out of anesthesia. It appears that I mainly just lay on the couch and alternated between playing Mario Kart and watching America's Next Top Model reruns on Bravo. Take out the painkillers, the gauze in my mouth, and the half hour facial icing sessions, and it could be any other day. Okay, maybe there was a little bit of stumbling about when I first woke up in the recovery room, but nothing that didn't constitute a typical Saturday night for me just a few years ago.
That doesn't mean, however, that nothing hilarious happened. First of all, the receptionist forgot that I was getting anesthesia when she called to remind me about the procedure and told me to "eat a good breakfast" first, which most assuredly would have been deadly. Then when I got there, she asked me if I had ever had twilight before, which I took not as a reference to the type of anesthesia I was having but as an unwelcome invitation to discuss Edward and Bella. When I finally got into the operating room, the nurse insisted on taking off my flip flops and my glasses for me, even though I was totally conscious and had not been given any sort of drugs of any kind at that point. Then the magic IV began and I drifted off right in the middle of answering the doctor's question about whether I considered myself a heavy drinker. (Define heavy, please.)
Afterwards, I did get rolled out to the car in a wheelchair, which was fairly humiliating, given that the surgeon's office was located in Water Tower Place, so we had to roll past a Starbucks and an American Girl Place on the way out. Of course, I was still in a bit of haze at that point, so I was mainly trying to navigate the difficulties of small talk with the nurse.
Anyway, I have to head off for my 11 o clock facial icing. Painkillers to follow at noon. What a fantastic life!
Apparently I did not do anything particularly ridiculous while I was coming out of anesthesia. It appears that I mainly just lay on the couch and alternated between playing Mario Kart and watching America's Next Top Model reruns on Bravo. Take out the painkillers, the gauze in my mouth, and the half hour facial icing sessions, and it could be any other day. Okay, maybe there was a little bit of stumbling about when I first woke up in the recovery room, but nothing that didn't constitute a typical Saturday night for me just a few years ago.
That doesn't mean, however, that nothing hilarious happened. First of all, the receptionist forgot that I was getting anesthesia when she called to remind me about the procedure and told me to "eat a good breakfast" first, which most assuredly would have been deadly. Then when I got there, she asked me if I had ever had twilight before, which I took not as a reference to the type of anesthesia I was having but as an unwelcome invitation to discuss Edward and Bella. When I finally got into the operating room, the nurse insisted on taking off my flip flops and my glasses for me, even though I was totally conscious and had not been given any sort of drugs of any kind at that point. Then the magic IV began and I drifted off right in the middle of answering the doctor's question about whether I considered myself a heavy drinker. (Define heavy, please.)
Afterwards, I did get rolled out to the car in a wheelchair, which was fairly humiliating, given that the surgeon's office was located in Water Tower Place, so we had to roll past a Starbucks and an American Girl Place on the way out. Of course, I was still in a bit of haze at that point, so I was mainly trying to navigate the difficulties of small talk with the nurse.
Anyway, I have to head off for my 11 o clock facial icing. Painkillers to follow at noon. What a fantastic life!
