Today we get to go home!
I'm so excited!
But first, a gripe:
OMG the doctors last night! In and out! Said Lizzie had a last thingy at midnight, which she didn't, so we waited until 2 am for nothing! UGH! And at shift change the doctors came one by one, perfectly timed about 10-15 min apart, to look at my staples. I mean, write that shit down or have a meeting or something, and tell all the other doctors. It is hard for me to be getting up and down in the bed or chair. It takes time and energy and pain. How much time? About enough time for the next doctor to show up! It was madness!
Back to happy story:
Lizzie got her Borg arm taken off. We had a shaken baby class, which was so insane because me and Gramma were so tired, we had to keep handig the baby off to each other! I thought for sure I was going to drop Lizzie at least once. Thank God I didn't. Don't think they would have let me take her home then :)
Staples. 14 of em in mah belly. I couldn't see them yet, but they would have to come out today. I was petrified. My unusually low pain tolerance is well known and I was sweating cannon balls just imagining what it would be like. Because that's what paranoid people do: we picture the worst that could happen so either our expectations are met or we are pleasantly surprised.
I figure if I have a staple in a stack of papers, that I want removed, I use a staple puller. There is a tool made just for that job. Well I had complete faith that the medical profession had some sort of equivalent for body staples. I was right. Only it looked more gruesome. I was assured repeatedly that this would not hurt. I would only feel them being removed, not pain. I did not believe this for one second. I had hope, but I did not believe. The time finally came this morning. Worst possible senario would be a surprise kamikazi style attack. That's what I got. I was finally asleep after the previously mentioned train of inquisitive doctors and nurses. Deep asleep. I was blindsighted when the doc came in with her tool-o-death at the crack of dawn. She turned on all the lights in the room at the same time and started talking loudly, sayin something like "Good-morning-how-are-you-are-we-ready-to-have-staples-removed" all in one big string I couldn't follow. The attack was so brutish, I thought for sure it was SWAT coming into the room looking for drug dealers and not just one little sweet doctor lady. Gramma must have seen the pure undiluted fear in my eyes and the color drain from my face. She came over to hold my hand and talk me through the process. Yay..... And I do have to admit that the majority of the staples were removed professionaly and calmly and relatively pain free as promised. but the last few...
I knew the last ones were gonna be a bitch. I'm not an idiot. She would approach one, pause, say Hmmm under her breath, approach from a different angle, say Hmmm again. No cutting, just attempting to cut. And the times she did cut, she cut my skin! OMG it hurt! Sharp pain! Like when the salon lady misses an eyebrow hair and grabs precious flesh instead. Only the flesh was my barely starting to heal abdomen and the hair was a titanium staple/railroad tie. It was so barbaric. Apparently the few bad ones were put in sideways accidently, which allowed the new skin to heal over parts of them and not facilitate their removal with the damn tool. So the doctor left. I thought maybe she was going to bring back some numbing agent or a different tool, or at least a spiked club to punch me in the face with, but no dice. She came back with 2 more people! That's when I knew it was on. The one extra person was a higher ranking officer that just stood at the foot of the bed to watch me and the other one was this gargantuan Southern beast of an angel lady. I just knew they brought her in to hold me down so they could dig around in my battle wound. She was so reassuring, but you could feel her slowly put one limb and then the other and then her torso on my upper body. I didn't really mind all that much. I almost felt kinda complimented, like "hurry, we need reinforcements in case this bitch goes poltergeist on us and pummels us." :)
So long story short, heifer dug the last 4 staples out. I grit the teeth and held the tongue. Some tears were shed. It hurt like a bitch! And Gramma held my hand and kept telling me I was being brave/strong. Horrible experience. If I ever see those Edward Scisorhands Surgeons, I will bust a brick upside their heads and demonstrate their level of skill on them, using a pneumatic air staple gun. But I'm not bitter...
More lectures, more paperwork, trying to get crap toether to go home. Shaken baby lecture in some corner room, typical Navy style. Realized somehow I had less luggage and about 3 times the crap I came with, despite a few things I shipped home with Stephen. Saw a dude I haven't seen since 8TH GRADE! Seriously! His wife had birthed and ended up NEXT DOOR TO ME! Weird! Finally got Lizzie in her seat. Stephen had to take 2 trips of newborn paraphanelia to the car. Gots me a ride in a wheelchair, movie style. Booked it down to the car and didn't look back.
First meal: ChikFila. Had a huge headache. Like an Excedrin headache. Chalked it up to overstimulation. Breathed a sigh of relief as I walked into my own house. Finally! Pissed in my own pot. Score again! Was a little overwhelmed. OK, a lot overwhelmed. So happy to be home though! I can't tell you how long I have been waiting for that moment; my baby, my house, my clothes, my family, my dream.
Back to reality...
The house is about as dar away from "unpacked" as a house can be. And Chewie fur tumbleweeds tumble from all corners. It's almost more than I can handle. Gramma cleans it all up and makes the boys get te furnitre in an acceptable arrangement. I could kiss her. It was aweful awkward for me, watching someone else clean my house. And my MIL no less >.<>