I had surgery this past Thursday. I developed a hernia above my navel when I got pregnant with Jude. After I had him, I decided I was super woman and did too much, giving myself yet another hernia…this time directly behind my navel. So, yeah, I had to get them repaired before they got worse (which was happening).
It’s always a hassle for Jesse to get time off. Jude was c-section, which means Jesse was supposed to get an automatic 10 days off. I had to deal with going allll the way above his superior officers heads because they didnt want to give him his time off. Having this surgery meant another 10 days. It was a hassle…and they only agreed to give him his time off he promised to come to work Monday, Tuesday and Thursday. I love the military but sometimes I hate his installation.
Anyway, Jesse is supposed to get time off because I can’t do anything for myself. I’m not even allowed to pick up the baby forat least a week. These 10 days are supposed to be me being able to drown myself in pain meds and not do anything. Because that’s pretty much what I’m supposed to do. I have Percoset. It makes me groggy; I pass out at random times, my vision is totally blurred (I’ve just been a typist for years so I can do this with my eyes closed). So, yeah, Jesse is supposed to be helping me like a good husband, right?
Day 1: Surgery…he wakes me up, I kiss Judas good-bye and leave with my friend Miranda, he drives me around the world because I lost my wallet (in my Miranda’s couch) and then takes me to the hospital. He drops me off at the door so he can park and smoke and I can check in. He doesn’t come in for like 15 minutes. That’s fine. When he does come in, he sits with me. When they take me up and I have to wash, he opens my socks for me…which I thought was really cute. We go to the pre-op room, and we talk and laugh and he tries to calm me down because I really thought I was going to die. He was great up until he needed to be calmed down because he wanted a cigarette so bad and they were taking too long to come and get me. So, he stood outside my curtain practically flagging down anyone with a hospital badge on, like, ‘Are you gonna take her yet, or what?’ LOL.
They came and got me. I barely remember the anesthesia kicking in. They put something in my I.V., we went into the elevator, I woke up in the recovery room. Alone. Because he left to buy me a stool to get in his super-high truck and was still outside smoking. And no nurse could get a hold of him. So I called him, told him I needed him. My surgeon never came to talk t
o either of us about how the surgery went. They just discharged me when I was lucid enough to stand. I was really high. It felt extremely strange. I was in a lot of pain. Jesse put my clothes on me. All of them. So sweet.
We went back to Miranda’s. She and I talked a lot. Jesse helped me move around a lot. He super sweet about taking me to the bathroom. When we got home, he helped me inside. He changed Jude’s diaper (he rarely does that). He was just amazing.
Until he got sleepy. After that I was on my own. He is not a mo
rning person. He hates being woken up…But neither am I. I still have the common sense to not be a blow-hard at certain times. He was pissed he had to make the bottle. He was pissed he had to keep getting up to help me go to the bathroom. He was pissed he had to hold the baby. So I had to wake up from my Percoset-induced stupor and nurse Jude, get myself to the bathroom, cry a little.
I finally got to sleep, only to be shocked awake by the glorious feeling of my drugs wearing off and the pain coming on strong. It took 30 minutes to wake him to find my pills. This is all within like the first 24 hours following my surgery. Tell you more about Day 2 later today.