So… the insomnia is back. But I have nipples. And as I sit here in the quiet dark at 3am, I can only think that life is messy and strange and truly unpredictable.
I was not prepared for how difficult this surgery was yesterday. I had, in fact, convinced myself that it was a simple procedure — in and out by lunch. And maybe it would have been just that, but the anesthesia got to me this time. Also, the pain was pretty bad and the nurses ended up layering morphine on top of the oxycodine. I was nauseous and ill well into the night.
Plus, I just couldn’t wake up, couldn’t pull myself out of that post-operative fog. Dr. F had told us that the surgery would take about an hour and that I’d be ready to leave the hospital about an hour after that. But two hours post-op, a nurse went to get James from the waiting room to see if he could pull me together and get me out of there. We ended up home in time for a very late lunch of dry toast (not the peanut butter smoothie I had been secretly promising myself as a post-op reward).
Anyway, I’m swollen, sore, a little bruised, but right now the pain is very manageable. I’m not sure why the insomnia hit so hard again tonight , maybe all the drugs, or the fact that I quite literally slept all day. I think right now I have to give in to the exhaustion whenever it strikes, and worry about getting back on a regular sleep/wake schedule some other time.
I’m not bandaged, but I’m pretty marked up. My new faux nipples seem a little strange poking through my t-shirt and held in place by wiry stitches. A nurse told me it could take another six months for everything to look and feel normal again. That doesn’t surprise me.
As difficult as yesterday was, I’m so grateful that it’s over, that the road forward now is focused on recovery and reclaiming my life. When my son got home yesterday, I could see that he was worried, but relieved, too. He sat on the edge of my bed and fumbled around for the right words. “Mom, I’m just so glad you are alive,” he finally said.
Me too, kid. Me too.