Yesterday I got to have my very first minor surgery, to excise a ganglion cyst from my left wrist (excise is a cool word, better than "whack out"). It was interesting. I displayed my vast wussitude once again, nearly passing out when they got my IV in--during the IV-insertion I was fine, but immediately afterward I started seeing sparkles; this is pretty common--for me, not necessarily other people, and happened each time I got said cyst drained with The Big Needle. Needles, apparently, really freak out my subconscious, or my unconscious, or whatever--because in theory, my conscious mind is unafraid of them, but lo and behold, I nearly pass out every time a really big one gets stuck in me. Something about the adrenaline? I dunno.
But they got it in, and sent Reuben off on a forty minute journey to fulfill my pain meds prescription, and walked me and my saline bag into the operating room thingy, which was set up for surgery on the RIGHT hand. Which is, um, not what I was there for. So the nurses switched that around after some difficulty moving the "brand new bed" with its "complicated locking and unlocking mechanism" into position. I would have said something even if the nurses had not noticed it right away, and there was writing on my left hand indicating that that was the interesting one, so it wasn't like they were likely to hack into my right hand by mistake... but still. Why the hell did it say on whatever piece of paper the nurse was looking at that it was my right hand?
They put some sedative in my IV. I got to feel my vein from my wrist to my elbow as the sedative burned its way to wherever it was supposed to go. That was fun. And they numbed my wrist up real good, so I didn't feel anything during the slice-and-dice. Well, except the (literally) bone-jarring vibration as they cut the stalk of my cyst off. With, I dunno, a chainsaw? WTF would vibrate my whole hand like that? Fortunately that stopped. They wrapped me up and wheeled me out to the waiting-for-Reuben area. Because he was still up in the fourth-floor pharmacy. For a good twenty minutes after my operation was over. Yes, it took longer to fill a prescription than to perform hand surgery. Oh, they let me look at the cyst. It was about the size of those big gum-balls, and was see-through.
So my wrist hurts. I ice it twenty minutes out of every hour, and I've kept it elevated (except for just now, as I'm typing this, it's only semi-elevated). And it hurts. Which is a precursor to the terrible itching I should have soon, from the stitches that come out in two weeks. I'm not supposed to drive but I did anyway, fortunately I had just taken some ibuprofen this morning and not my Darvocet--which makes me reeeeally sleepy, as I find. And dulls my pain somewhat. Not that it hurts so awfully badly, but I don't like pain, and I have drugs, so I'll take them. Showering should be fun tomorrow. Ooh, time for more icing! And not the yummy kind :(
Did I mention I threw up twice, post-op? Once on the kitchen floor, due to hubris--I really thought I could stop myself from hurling--and again, in the master potty (I snuck out of the living room while Jason & Melissa were here to barf). Then I ate some toast--as my grandfather would have had me do--which I successfully kept down. YaY!
Is there anything toast can't do?