On Thursday morning I reported to the outpatient surgical centre for my scheduled gynaecological procedure. It all went fine. Beforehand I hadn’t worried too much about it, which still sometimes is a weird / new state of mind for me. And I wasn’t really worried while I was there either. All the staff were friendly and patiently explained what they wanted / needed me to do or what they were doing to me; very mindful about making me comfortable and all. It feels weird to stress that they did, as if these days we usually expect to be manhandled through these kind of things, because we all know that “time is money” even and especially in the healthcare sector, which often is short-staffed and all. Anyway, I felt well looked after.
As to be expected I don’t remember the actual moment I went under; the last thing I remember was the kind anaesthetist asking me how I was doing and a light burning sensation along my arm with the cannula. The next thing I “remember” was being somewhere (in a dream, ok) and people started pulling me away sideways from there. And then I was already in the recovery room. I know enough about blood pressure, heart rate etc to infer from the glance on the monitor above my bed that I was doing fine. After a while they unhooked me from the EKG and blood pressure cuff, gave me something to eat and drink, then a bit after that they also took out the cannula and slowly led me back to the changing room. A quick chat with the operating surgeon – it all looked fine, but of course we need / should wait for the lab report as well – and I was allowed to be picked up.
I signed in at the clinic at 7:30, was brought into the operating room around 9:00, called my pickup at 11:30, was home by 12. No big deal indeed. I also was lucky that my body handled the anaesthesia well and I only experienced mild cramping for a few hours after. But that was similar to regular period cramps, nothing to take pain killers for. Post op bleeding also was much less than I had expected (worried); like I stated above it all went fine.
That weird perfectionist part of my brain very quickly tried to tell me that, when I so obviously was doing fine, I could just as well do some of the tasks that needs to be doing. Not physical ones like chores, but there is still quite a bit of admin and organisational tasks to do for the local election campaign and regular life admin in general. I’m happy to say that I managed to silence that part of my brain and tried very much to actually rest.
For a tiny while I pondered that impulse to “need to do things” and then decided to blame patriarchy and capitalism. The world I was raised in. And to defy that by doing my best to rest and recuperate for the weekend. I lay down on the air bed at the family home (mandatory 24hour post op supervision) for a bit, than took my book out to the lounger on the patio.
I moved from there to the couch and later in the evening back out on the patio to hang out with my brothers for a bit. The night was ok, nothing to do with any post op stuff, just the usual more restless sleep in a different bed in a different room with sounds from a different neighbourhood. I stayed in the family home till yesterday afternoon, taking it just as easy (lounger, sofa…) before I went back to my own place.
Still took it rather easy today, because I reminded myself, that even though there is no visible sign outside on my body (no cut, no bandage), a part of my body was cut into and that it needs healing. The fact that I slept for about 10 hours straight last night is a good indicator that my body needs rest, I’d say. So that’s what I’m going to do. Tonight and tomorrow. Though tomorrow I might need to get working on some of those local election admin tasks as well. Maybe.
