I live!
Yes, yes... I live =) I have this huge bandage on the side of my neck I'm just itching (litterly) to get rid of, but otherwise I'm fine.
I'm not taking any more Vicodin if I can help it.... I don't mind feeling a little pain and I can do without the dizziness, lightheadedness, and how damned drowsy it makes me.
I never want to go back to Metropolitan Hospitol or any related clinics. Good Lord.... they were so unprepared and disorganized it wasn't funny. First the nurses couldn't find a vein in my left arm to stick the IV in, so I told them the veins were slightly larger and more visible in my right. Ignored. Took two nurses to skewer my large vein in my left wrist several times over. At first they first claimed (in a loud whisper to each other) they'd never seen a vein "run" like mine did, then they claimed out loud to me that vein is always hard to get. Hmm...kay.
So, they finally tried the veins on the back of my right hand. *sigh* Skewered again, but they finally got the IV in.
So, rising and painful goose egg on my left wrist and a huge bruise on the back of my right hand. Batting 100 so far.
So, then I have questions as the nurses take my blood off for various tests. I'm going to have to talk to my doctor, so I ask him when he shows up. Nope, not him. So I ask the Anesiologist's nurse. No, I still have to talk to that doctor when he shows up. I ask him and - wow, I was supposed to ask my doctor.
So, I'm about to go into the OR and my several minute blood test isn't back yet. We wait. No, another 10 minutes.
So, it's into the OR and then wait. Nope, still not done yet. They load me onto the table and prepare to knock me out. Nope, the tests still aren't back yet so they begin without the bloodtests.
I wake up at close to 1pm and the recovery room nurses are total idiots. Arrg. I'm awake, ok? Send me home, goddamnit. No, my stomach is fine. In pain? Hello, you shot me full of narcotic painkillers! On a pain scale of 1-10 I'm an annoyed -1. No, I do NOT want any pop. Water. No, I said I wanted WATER. Not ice chips, WATER.
As they wheeled me back into my partition, Mom took one look at me and started laying out my clothes. lol She wanted to laugh, I know she did. =) She even admitted she did, but she had to survive the ride home with me. "Do not put a grouchy assassin in the shotgun position or behind you with a garrot if you expect to live." is her words now that I'm in a better frame of mine.
Anyway, never again with Metropolitan Hospitol. Thank you very much; I'd rather wait for any future proceedures until there's an opening in St. Mary's Hospitol.
But yeah, I'm grouchy and have a good case of opticalrectalitis (family joke meaning "Shitty outlook on life"), but I'm alive.
*GLOMPS* and much love to everyone =)
I'm not taking any more Vicodin if I can help it.... I don't mind feeling a little pain and I can do without the dizziness, lightheadedness, and how damned drowsy it makes me.
I never want to go back to Metropolitan Hospitol or any related clinics. Good Lord.... they were so unprepared and disorganized it wasn't funny. First the nurses couldn't find a vein in my left arm to stick the IV in, so I told them the veins were slightly larger and more visible in my right. Ignored. Took two nurses to skewer my large vein in my left wrist several times over. At first they first claimed (in a loud whisper to each other) they'd never seen a vein "run" like mine did, then they claimed out loud to me that vein is always hard to get. Hmm...kay.
So, they finally tried the veins on the back of my right hand. *sigh* Skewered again, but they finally got the IV in.
So, rising and painful goose egg on my left wrist and a huge bruise on the back of my right hand. Batting 100 so far.
So, then I have questions as the nurses take my blood off for various tests. I'm going to have to talk to my doctor, so I ask him when he shows up. Nope, not him. So I ask the Anesiologist's nurse. No, I still have to talk to that doctor when he shows up. I ask him and - wow, I was supposed to ask my doctor.
So, I'm about to go into the OR and my several minute blood test isn't back yet. We wait. No, another 10 minutes.
So, it's into the OR and then wait. Nope, still not done yet. They load me onto the table and prepare to knock me out. Nope, the tests still aren't back yet so they begin without the bloodtests.
I wake up at close to 1pm and the recovery room nurses are total idiots. Arrg. I'm awake, ok? Send me home, goddamnit. No, my stomach is fine. In pain? Hello, you shot me full of narcotic painkillers! On a pain scale of 1-10 I'm an annoyed -1. No, I do NOT want any pop. Water. No, I said I wanted WATER. Not ice chips, WATER.
As they wheeled me back into my partition, Mom took one look at me and started laying out my clothes. lol She wanted to laugh, I know she did. =) She even admitted she did, but she had to survive the ride home with me. "Do not put a grouchy assassin in the shotgun position or behind you with a garrot if you expect to live." is her words now that I'm in a better frame of mine.
Anyway, never again with Metropolitan Hospitol. Thank you very much; I'd rather wait for any future proceedures until there's an opening in St. Mary's Hospitol.
But yeah, I'm grouchy and have a good case of opticalrectalitis (family joke meaning "Shitty outlook on life"), but I'm alive.
*GLOMPS* and much love to everyone =)