OK, so I know it's been a while but I have learned to expect the unexpected. Things were really getting back on track for me here with my mom out of the hospital and back home in hospice. My father-in-law has a little health issue and we had to take him to Houston to see about that. And, of course, we were expecting "Grand Number 9". I was getting all of my ducks in a row, so to speak, when I got a phone call on the return trip from Houston. It was my gynecologist. I had my yearly exam and mammogram so whenever the number came up on caller ID I was immediately afraid of why they were calling. As it turned out, everything was OK except...one of my breast implants had a ruptured (ugh...).
Now, if you know me, you know that I am always searching for reasons that things happen. So after absorbing what the nurse had to say and giving her my surgeon's phone number in Dallas, I began wondering how in the world that thing had ruptured. I realize that they were 10 years old and nothing is meant to last forever but still I was baffled. And scared. Because I knew that this meant I was going to have to undergo surgery again.
Things were clicking along pretty quickly here with me committing to keeping David's two boys while they went to Hawaii and then Jonathan was to be born right afterwards and I was supposed to keep Olivia overnight while they went to the hospital. I needed to get this thing done fast! And so I put the wheels in motion to have it done within two weeks. Yep, that's me. Let's get this ball rolling so I can move on to the next thing. What I had forgotten was what the surgery was really like and the fact that it was actually going to slow me down.
So David and Codi brought us the boys and we kept them for 5 days, handing them off to her parents for the next five and off we went to Dallas. However, while Hubby and I were talking about this surgery, which by the way could possibly still be in the warranty period. Wait, what?! You see, I was in a 10 year study with Mentor for the current implants I had placed. If, at any time within that 10 year period, anything happened to them, they would pay for the new ones. I knew we were close but not sure if we were within the window of the year. Anyway, while we were talking about having the new ones put in, Hubby said, "I know how you hate being put under anesthesia. And how you had planned to never have elective surgery done again. BUT...I also know that you have done quiet a bit of "sport talking" about having a "little lipo" done for years. Now would be the time to have anything else done that you may want since you have to have those old implants taken out." Hmmm...And that, friends, put these visions of grandeur into my mind. Twenty-something looking legs and hips. Why, four children had certainly changed the shape of my body time and time again. Why not?
Well, why not should have been, "Because you have anxiety and will absolutely freak out the day of the surgery." But NO...I went ahead and had my consult on a Thursday, boldly showing the doctor what I wanted to get rid of and scheduled my surgery for the very next day. And that's the exact day that the butterflies took flight...in my stomach that is. This was not just about to be "visions of grandeur" any more, this was about to happen!
I was the last person on the surgery schedule so we "closed the place down". They took me back about 3 pm, brought me to recovery around 8 and I was back in my hotel room by 11. Tussed up from top to bottom like a pig at a cochon de lait and armed with some pretty good meds, I was now in the hands of my hubby, who let me say is the best darn nurse I've ever had. And if you've never had this kind of surgery before let me explain something: You cannot use your hands for leverage to get up or down (that includes using the potty). You better have some pretty good leg and abdominal muscles for getting up and down (Thank you very much, yoga!). You've got bandages like ummm...everywhere. That must be changed daily and this suit that is three sizes too small but surprisingly feels better on than off. And then there is the shower thing. I love my baths. I mean soaking in the tub with a good book is like one of my favorite things to do in the evenings, Well, you can't do that for a while. And you can't even take a shower by yourself; you're pretty helpless to say the least. He does all of this for you, gives you your meds on time and tucks you in bed with about a thousand pillows to make you feel more comfortable. And while you're sleeping, he slips out and buys you a maxi dress and a pair of flats, because in your hopelessly optimistic packing, you have nothing you can wear except pajama pants. Yep...this is what it means in those wedding vows that say, "In sickness and in health..."
So, from Wednesday to Sunday I lived in a hotel room, was totally cared for by the love of my life (who, by the way NEVER complained) and ate Cheese Nips and drank Ginger Ale. Sunday we got on the road back to Louisiana, stopping several times along the way for me to get out and move around. Back in my own home and chair and bed I felt better. And then Wednesday was when "Number 9", Baby Jonathan was to be born. I would be there. For sure. I had never missed the birth of one of my Grands and I wasn't about to start now...
There is an after one that I took to send to the kids but it's on Hubby's
phone. It's doesn't look half bad but I didn't want to bother him at work
to get a photo for my blog...
HEY! I did say that other things have been going on, like birthdays and births and a trip to Las Vegas. Now that I sorta have to stay put for a while, I'll share those things with you this week.