Hey everyone. I bet you thought I was dead or had decided to stop blogging or something. Well, you’re wrong. I’m BAAAAAACK. *cue screaming*
But nah, I won’t hurt y’all too much.
A lot has happened since September of last year. I mean a lot. And what I’m about to write is in no particular order, since those of you who know me know I’m awful with dates. This post is probably going to be all about my minor surgery, knowing me.
First of all, I got my cyst removed in a surgery that required me to have a IV (eeeeeek) and anesthesia. It’s almost healed now, but it still hurts when I rub or press on it and the scar is still somewhat visible. However, it’s fading faster than the one on my wrist (yes, I did hurt myself again).
It actually was not as scary as I thought it was going to be. We had to be at the Royal Alex (the hospital) at something like six o’clock in the morning. I had to wear a hospital gown, which not only kept falling off but was uncomfortable when done up to boot. At least the nurse let me keep my underwear. I’m grateful to her for that. My nether regions really aren’t all that pretty. In fact, due to my constantly fluctuating weight, they are pretty ugly.
The IV, which I’d never expirienced before and included my phobia of needles in all respects, was pretty awful. The nurse used a big needle instead of one of the smaller ones, and she put it in the top of my hand instead of the inside of my arm. When the needle was going in it hurt like bloody hell. You know the thin skin on the top of your hand or foot? Imagine a big hunkin’ needle going as deep as it can into that. I didn’t cry or have a panic attack, but at one point I gasped and crushed the bedsheet in my hand because it hurt so bad. Other than the thing with the needle, though, there was little pain involved.
The orderly who pulled my bed back to my room after the surgery said that I was extremely talkative. Extremely talkative. Like talking his ear off talkative. By the time we reached my room I was completely awake, enough so to wriggle around on the bed and talk with him about how we both have weird names that nobody could pronounce (he was a indian american man, with a ethnic name). The big giant wad of cotton taped over my eye wasn’t bugging me yet (man, those things are itchy) so I was in a pretty good mood.
That was, until I had to stand up. I’ve mentioned before in this blog that I am disgracefully clumsy even at the best of times. Imagine me with anesthesia still (somewhat) in me. Yeah, I was pretty much dragging my legs on the ground while holding onto the nurse for dear life. It was somewhat better when Allie and my father showed up, but I still fell over when I tried to put my pants back on, and fell into the room with my pants around my knees and my lacy underwear visible for all to see (oops).
After that I went and ate some food and fell asleep (you’d think that I’d had enough after a hour or so of surgery, nope).
Cue the swelling. I had to deal with it for almost four days before it left me. I couldn’t see out of one eye and had to keep a cold compress on it at all times, meaning that I couldn’t play any games or use my computer effectively. So I sat and literally stared at the wall.
I did manage to post a picture to Facebook when the swelling was at it’s worse, and random alarmed comments ensued.
This post is probably going to be all about my minor surgery, knowing me.
Yeah. Yeah it was. Look, I can predict the future!