I have a lot to share, however my wit is still very much compromised by the heavy doses of narcotics I am currently on. I will try my best to make this interesting.
June 7th:
I was in good spirits as we made our way back to my beloved state. I didn't realize how much I missed it until I saw the vibrant green trees and smelled the still, night air.
Keane kept asking me if I was getting nervous. Surprisingly, nerves were the last thing on my mind. I knew what I had to do and I wore my game face courageously.
June 8th:
I have this aunt, you see. She goes by the name of Flow. Every 28 days or so she pays me a visit. Normally, I tolerate her just as anyone tolerates an obnoxious relative. However, this time was different. Flow's timing was so inopportune that she made her appearance ON SURGERY DAY, right smack during the time I was unable to eat, drink, or take anything for pain.
Damn her to fiery hell!
Luckily I'm brave and had no other choice but to continue on with my morning, med-free.
I made it to the hospital and got another MRI to make sure nothing had changed since my previous one back in December.
A couple of pre-op appointments later and I was in a hospital bed, getting my IV and joking with the nurses about the irony of the female body's timing. After slipping on a pair of glamorous disposable mesh underwear and a hospital pad which extended from my belly button to the middle of my back, I was ready for action!
Keane kissed me goodbye and before I knew it, I was writhing in pain, waking up from surgery.
June 9th-???:
The next couple days are a bit of a blur involving a lot of doping up and nausea on my part, and poking a prodding on the nurse's part. For some reason the doctor decided to give me my morphine through shots in my thigh instead of my IV, so every three hours, I got stabbed. Vital sign checks plus constant trips to the bathroom plus blood draws turned me into a drug/insomnia induced zombie. My poor little body was pumped full of every medicine under the sun. It took a while to figure out the best combination of drugs because some made me itch and others made me sick.
The doctor said the surgery went exactly how he expected. He was able to free up the nerve by removing two areas of discs and vertebrae which should have excellent results on my pain after I'm completely healed. If he is right, I fully intend to name my first born child after him, even if it's a girl.
I was thankful for all my visitors who lifted my spirits and took my mind off my body, even if only for a short while.
Sweet baby Cavan is getting so big! I can now relate to his frustrations of having to wear oxygen.
My sister Lindsey and baby Cavan
Little Lily held my hand to make me feel better
And made me laugh...but not too hard because it hurt :)
I also didn't think it was possible to love and respect Keane anymore than I already did before surgery, but after going through this with him, I somehow do. He slept next to me on a rickety old cot for two nights in the hospital, waking up each time the nurse came in to give me a shot of morphine, just to hold my hand. He repeatedly told me he was proud of me when I was sobbing and threatening to give up. He selflessly held a bowl for me and wiped my eyes when I threw up and screamed simultaneously from the horrendous pain. And he never once complained when I asked him every few minutes to adjust the pillows behind my head and legs because I couldn't get comfortable.
I am comforted in knowing that I have him to continue nursing me back to health once we go back to Wyoming. During my most vulnerable time, he was my strength and my rock and I love him more than ever for it.
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