cry baby cry

There is so much to be said, but unfortunately of the three main positions bodies may usually find themselves in--lying, sitting, or standing--sitting happens to be the one that is most painful and most directed by my doctors to not do. Sitting also happens to be the position most required for blog posting, so there will not be much to this.

To sum up: The surgery was about seven hours. It went about as well as it could. The stay in the hospital had its ups and downs. My pain medication type and dosage was switched a few times and at times it was great, and at others I didn't understand how anybody ever willed themselves to live through post-op procedures. Hospital food is as bad as everyone jokes about it being. Some nurses are amazing and helpful and caring and considerate; other nurses make you cry. Also making you cry = anesthesia. Hello emotions. My family and friends are completely awesome in every way and every visit or text or phone call or card or gift or online message has done a big part in helping me get through each day and feel like it's not a struggle I have to go through alone. I came home Saturday. That was earlier than expected. It is hard work doing the normal things I'm supposed to do, but good work. Chocolate is delicious. Pain meds are finicky. I've gained about two inches, as the doctor predicted. I'm officially Tall. It hurts a lot, both frequently and deeply, but the parts of me that matter most are feeling completely peaceful and happy and relieved and grateful.

Also, I'm not at work today.

More to come, I promise.

the night before

Less than twelve hours from now I'll be in a hospital gown, in a rolling bed, with an IV in my arm, most likely having my anesthesiologist explain what's going to happen to me. It's funny, I've been really nervous and scared for months, but now that it's really finally here, I feel relatively calm. You know how half the fun of Christmas is the anticipation and the waiting for the big exciting day? I'm pretty sure the anxiety of major surgery is the same way. The worst part has been having so much time to think and worry and stress and now that it's just going to happen, I can look at it practically and feel at least a little bit ready and stop freaking out so much.

Friday I went in to have my blood taken and do other pre-admitting stuff. I had misunderstood about what the whole giving blood thing was--they weren't actually taking enough of my own blood to give it back to me during my surgery, they were just taking a sample so they could find compatible blood in their blood bank and have it ready for me. They sometimes do the storage thing for patients where they get their own blood back, and originally my doctor told me that was what I'd be doing, but apparently that plan changed somewhere along the line. I'm very fine with that. I don't do very well with giving blood in general so the less the better, plus who knows, maybe I'll get the blood of some amazing athlete or music virtuoso and have this incredible extra talent for a few days.

When I went in on Friday they also put two hospital bracelets on me which I've had to wear all weekend. One is just my name and birthday and all that other identifying information, and the other is the serial number that my blood was labeled with, to make sure that nothing happens to have a mix-up and let the wrong blood inside me. My blood is #UVH41176, if you were curious. The bracelets have been slightly more annoying than I anticipated they would be, mostly because they have this seemingly magical ability of letting water in them but having no way to remove said water, but in a way they have been another helpful part of making it all seem more real and manageable instead of just this vague scary thing. Plus, of course, I'm always a fan of extra unmerited attention, and wearing hospital bracelets all weekend has given me some of that. Sweet.

I'm not sure how long it will be before I can update on here, but I will try to as soon as I can. Supposedly the hospital I'll be at will have wireless internet so hopefully I can write something from there to let everyone know how it went. It might be some pretty creative writing that comes out of me those first few days, depending on how much morphine I'm on at the time. Maybe I'll be the next Lewis Carroll. Until then, thank you all so much for your thoughts and concern and kindness and support and . It has already made a huge difference in this experience and I know it is just going to mean so much more on the other side of the surgery. Thanks, times a million, to all of you.

Oh, and also, I'm very pro-visitors and pro-phone calls. Please don't hesitate.

fixing a hole

A blog entry, in outline form:

1. I have an appointment set up for this Friday to go give my own blood for an hour or two so that they can pump it back into me during my surgery. This makes me feel:
____a. Nervous
____b. Creeped out
____c. Like this whole thing is suddenly a lot more real. Realer? Whatever.
2. Dr. Bacon recommends fusing only the top curve for the following reasons:
____a. Fixing the top curve will by default straighten the bottom one
______i. I don't really understand why or how
______ii. I don't really care, as long as he's right
____b. Most of your movement in your back comes from your lower spine
______i. Preserve lower spine = preserve mobility
______ii. Mobility = happy!