Alright it is time to introduce to the world a new member of our family. Colin! (Colin the Colon! Geddit?)
I was kind of against naming my stoma initially. Apparently it's a common thing for ostomates (someone who has an ostomy) to do this. After the surgery I can see why. I mean there you are, in the hospital wearing more tubes than the London Underground, high as a kite... what else are you going to do? Give in, cry from the pain, moan how much things suck? Or give yourself a giggle and name your stoma?
I am thankful for the folks who visited me while I was in the hospital - it made my 4 day stay that much bearable. Left alone I could see how easy it would be to stay in your own head and worry your nails off. After the operation the surgeon came in and told my husband how lovely to see my family there in the waiting room in support. Often times she comes to the waiting room and she finds no one there waiting for patient. So sad.
So the journey began at 6am. I went into admittance and they gave me a plastic hospital bracelet. I prefer Tiffany's but no matter. I was then led to the patient waiting area where I took everything off and given a beautiful gown of orient blue fabric. The opening was fashionably at the back. I was given an inflatable heating blanket that hooked up to a machine to keep my warm. It was loud! I didn't see the other patients get a blanket. Obviously I was given VIP treatment. The nurse inserted an IV into my left hand but apparently the vein didn't like a needle jabbed into it so she had to remove it and do it all over again in my OTHER hand.. gaaah!
"Such a shame too - it was such a good vein!" the nurse lamented.
My poor mom had to lug my winter boots and winter jacket AND my hospital bag all by herself all the way to the waiting room in another wing - I felt so bad. Luckily my godmother came and could help her. The moment of truth came and an orderly came to take me away. I will tell you the truth. The past few weeks I went out of my way to see friends and family before my operation date. I felt like it was a farewell tour. I didn't know if I would see anyone on this side of the fence again. I even took a picture of me and my mom for one last time before they took me away. I SUCK at positive thinking!!!
They wheeled me to the operation floor. A gaggle of nurses were waiting at the nursing station. I guess they were waiting for their surgeon's arrival. There were 8 operation rooms in one long row down the hall. Every so often a surgeon would arrive, get kitted out and disappear into their assigned room with their nurses in tow. I chatted with a few nurses while the orderly confirmed my arrival. I made jokes that I wanted to eat this trophy they had on their desk. It looked like it was made of chocolate though it was made of wood. I told them I was sooo hungry I'd eat anything!!! That cracked them up. The orderly wished me well and left me parked outside the operation room. Room 2. So I laid there waiting, watching nurses and doctors pass by. No one passing wanted to make eye contact with me, but then again why was I insisting they look at me? I must of looked like I was on the edge of panic. Wouldn't be far from the truth.
I suddenly had to urge to pee. I waved a nurse down and she directed me to the nearest washroom. So there I was. Making a break for it in a thin blue gown and a blanket but otherwise butt naked under it all. How long would it take before they found out I left? I shook my head and did my business. Walking back to my stretcher was hard because I knew that ever step I took was my choice, my will. No - we are going to do this - eye on the prize Jene - eye on the prize.
So I hopped into my bed on wheels and that's when my surgeon made her appearance.
