The Down Low on the Down Belows

The doc says I need to rest after having the hysteroscopy on Friday but, of course, I am bored just sitting doing nothing. Of course, I am awake early, because I am going to bed at 10pm. But, I tried to get up yesterday to change my hair color and I had a pain that brought me back home. So here I am, writing more and wishing to be up. With different-colored hair.

The operation went great. It turns out my uterus was covered in fibroids which have been delicately removed. Apparently, Doc B has the photos which will be framed as the most expensive fibroids in the world.

The lovely nurse B - my friend and helper on my baby adventure - was there to greet me at the doc's offices on Friday morning where my nil by mouth was really starting to bug me.

After a few mix ups with my REAL birthdate, okay, I was stressed that first day at Dr. B's office and wrote my DOB as 6/1/2009 which would officially make me -3 months' old at the time, I was fitted with my baby arm band and sent in.

I got to put on my hairnet and booties alone, though Nurse B came in to check on me and we had a laugh about the fact that I am and was, her first ever friend/patient. Weird. The changing room/bathroom had scales or "a scale" as they say here so of course I hopped on. Yay 13 pounds - GONE! Take that mother f-ers! Just 10 more to go....! 

Anyway, back to the more important baby situache...I sat in my bed with legs dangling off the end. I swear to God, they don't make medical equipment for my body. Either the seats are too small or the beds are too short. I feel like Gulliver stamping around with tiny furniture just waiting to collapse around me.

So, with legs-a-dangling I sat and whiled away the time reading stories of women who lost half a ton of fat and looking at pictures of smiling women exercising. They should definitely show the reality which is more like the image of a woman swearing at her trainer and sweating like a pig in mismatched workout clothes. I would buy that scenario way more than Miss Perfect grinning while doing some ab work.

Anyway, as usual, I digress. I lay and lay, waiting for my big moment of sleep. I hear another patient coming round, slurring her words. I vow that won't be me. Yeah, right.

The lovely anesthetist comes in and preps me for the IV. I will NEVER be a heroin addict. I'm JUST SAYING. I mean, yuck, yuck, I loathe it when they make you make a fist, the tap and flick at the vein. Ugh, so gross. But Doc Anesthetic was very sweet and I am being wheeled in in no time.

Next thing I know I am coming round, with the lovely Nurse B, waking me up, I have no idea if I slur, but I do burst into tears. I am sure it is all the drugs, but a bit of me knows it is sheer relief that I'm one step closer to the boom boom of big, flat Isenberg feet.