She emailed me today, asking me to call her when I get a
chance. As soon as I saw the sender, I knew what it was about. I’ve hit the 2
day window before surgery. Somehow seven months have passed and now here I sit
with Thursday morning staring me in the face. I waited to call her back. I
pushed it off on purpose. I wanted a few more minutes of not having the
discussion. I was controlling the situation. I’m admittedly bad about doing
that.
You need to shower the night before and the morning of
surgery. You are first case, so you need to arrive early. No makeup, no deodorant,
no hair product, just come fresh from the shower. He will be taking the implant
out on the right side and removing scar tissue then replacing the implant and
placing drains and stitches. He will tell you all of this again the morning of.
After surgery you will wake up in a surgical vest. Keep the surgical vest on
for 48 hours. Keep the fluff in place and just let it be. Every 8-12 hours
empty the drain and record the volume. Your goal should be less than 30 ml in
24 hours. The drainage volume should decrease and the color should become
lighter with less clots with each passing day. If volume increases, call us. Forty eight
hours later, take off the vest and inspect the incision sites. Remove the
bandages, if there is significant redness, call us. If redness grows after that
time point call us. You can start to shower after 2 days, no scrubbing the site, just let
water flow over it. Do not let water touch the drain insertion site, keep that
bandage in place until the drains come out. Come back a week later and we will see if we can remove the stitches and take out the
drain. No lifting until further notice. (And I quote) “Keep your arms pterodactyl
style.” (And I just now learned how to spell pterodactyl!) Stay in a sports bra
24 hours a day for the next month. Don’t forget to bring a picture ID when you
check in. (By the way, why in the world
would that be needed? Would someone really sneak in and try to change places
with me for this specific surgery? Just saying. If you would, give me a call.)
I called her back. This was her instruction. All of which I
could have stated verbatim. I am a pro now. But it was refreshing to know I
didn’t have to rely on my memory. But the phone call also made it totally real. Not even 12 hours later, the phone rings
again. Anesthesia screening. Yep, it’s really happening. They certainly won’t
let me forget it.
It’s that feeling you get when you were sharpening your
pencils before the SAT exam in highschool. That is almost exactly what it feels
like in this time period leading up. Your stomach drops and you feel the
underlying nausea, and your heart rate isn’t exactly at baseline. There is
nothing you can do but go in and sit down at the desk. It’s simple awareness of
what it is. It’s not fear for me; it’s dread. God’s will supersedes my own, so
I fear not the outcome, but I certainly don’t want the recovery time.
I still have laundry to do, bed sheets to change, clean towels to hang and meals to prep and freeze, but I’ve already done a lot to make every day
moments a tad more manageable in the healing period. And what I have neglected
to accomplish, Ron will step in to complete the task in real time. He’s good
like that.
Thursday morning 7:30. My pencils are sharpened. Now, I just need to
sit down in the desk.
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