"This doesn't look like Grey's Anatomy..."

5:32 a.m. Thursday, Nov. 20
Mom and I woke up and finished packing up the things I would need for my five-day vacation to Deming, N.M., or as they call it "vacation for the stars..." I am anxious, thirsty and kind of ready to have this whole ordeal over with.

6:30 a.m.
We arrive at MountainView Surgery Center and I check in with Pam's friend, Selena, answering the basic questions, working out the insurance mess and signing the "I promise not to sue if I die" forms. Then, I go wait in the waiting room with a small girl and her family, as well as my mom before they call me into the surgery prep area.
As they call me and I go in, I notice there's another child in there. It doesn't take long before I ask why so many children and the super-nice, handpicked nurse (my aunt handpicked my surgery team, lol) told me that Nov. 20 was known as "Dental Day," the day that all the children whose parents have allowed them to eat candy and crap without making them brush and floss their teeth come in to be sedated and have crowns put in and teeth pulled in an effort to save teeth that have rotted out of their heads. They were playing Shrek 3 loud enough for me to enjoy it, so I didn't mind much.
The nurse asked me a boat load of questions before telling me to get undressed and put on the hospital-ordered gown, booties and super hot hair net, then climb onto the gurney that would wheel me into surgery. At this time, my mom and aunt had joined me while we were waiting for Dr. Lindsey to get there to answer any questions we had. We joked with the anesthesiologist as she asked me many of the same questions and told me that she would give me a sedative before they wheeled me into the operating room.

8 a.m.
Dr. Lindsey arrived and I made sure I didn't have any last minute questions. Thankfully, I was born to a nurse that knows what she's doing in any given situation, so I wasn't worried about when I woke up or how the knee should look, etc.
After he answered all of the questions I had, Dr. Skinner (the anesthesiologist) gave me the "happy" medicine and I kissed my family goodbye. The rest, it seems, I blacked out, but this is what I was told happened:
On my short jaunt to the operating room, I announced to Dr. Skinner that this hospital had very sexy men in it (see my previous post about the knee incident). She asked where she could find them and I proceeded to tell her that she could find them in the E.R. and to take me to the E.R. As we reached the operating room, I also told her, "This doesn't look like Grey's Anatomy." Embarrassing? Yes.

11 a.m.
I start to wake up in the recovery room, heavily sedated, but awake enough to realize there are three screaming F****** children in the not-so-private recovery stations. I'm not talking whimpering, soft spoken children...I'm talking give-me-a-gun-and-I'll-take-care-of-it screaming children. I actually stopped my recovery nurse to ask her if we could sedate them again and to "put it on my tab." That's not a lie.
These children were TERRIBLE. They actually needed three adults to hold down a 10-year-old screaming, writhing child so they could give him pain meds. I was furious and it didn't help that I was dealing with my own issues. Where's Shrek when you need him, dammit?

11:30 a.m.
The screaming kids were finally gone and my mom was in the recovery room with me. I was so so cold and the recovery nurse was awesome and gave me heated blankets...and not electric heated ones, but the kind you take out of an oven. I took my first dose of Vicodin with some crackers so my stomach wouldn't be upset, then she begins the discharge process.
Unbelievably, I am able to get myself from my bed to the wheelchair without much trouble. My leg was wrapped in the bandages with an ace bandage over them, all the way to my toes, which were bright orange from the disinfectant they used.
They wheeled me out to my mom's car, where I didn't have much trouble getting in and laying down, starting to feel a little queasy from the medicine.
Then my mom gave me my phone and I started to call people (I am sorry if you received one of these incoherent phone calls). I quickly fell asleep on the road back to Deming, where I would be spending the next few days in recovery mode.

1:30 p.m.
I wake up to my poor mother groaning with displeasure as we drive down Country Club Road on our way home. I turn over and ask her what's wrong and she says she is not feeling well, is sick to her stomach and is going down the road at an alarming rate.
We turn onto Needles Eye Road, our road, and she says "I'm sorry, baby. I have to stop." She opened the door and got violently ill. All I could do was rub her back and hand her napkins from the glove compartment. I felt so helpless to help her.
We finally pulled in the driveway, and miraculously, she is able to help me from the car and unload everything, making sure I am settled on the couch in the den, with my knee propped and water and snacks on hand.
Then, she asked me if I needed anything and went to bed. I didn't see her until the next day at 10 a.m.
My dad was stuck as my nurse and I had to call him because I was so hungry and craving a Schwann's pepperoni pizza that I know my parents keep stocked in the freezer for us kids. He came home, heated one up for me and handed me the remote to the television. I turned it on and accidentally turned it to the channel that makes the whole satellite stick and burn out. So, I was stuck without a TV. So, I went to sleep.

More to come...