Just two stitches!

Ok, so I had my minor surgery a few days ago. In a really weird and surreal fashion, I had to go to an 'ambulatory hospital', sign loads of papers, agree to general anesthesia and wear the blasted GOWN, for something that took 10 minutes and required 2 stitches. Huh?

Poor DH had to drive me to the hospital in the wee hours, but being the good wife that I am, I hurried him out of there as soon as I had signed all those "you might die" documents. They were so rigid on the HIPA rules that he had to have a sticker on his jacket to even be in the same room with me as they told me "you might die", and I had to sign OTHER papers saying they could discuss my dire post-surgical options over the phone with him. I felt pretty confident that I was in a very private and secure situation.

Until they wheeled me in.

Yeah, welcome to the "ward". For those who haven't enjoyed an ambulatory hospital, well, it's much like I imagine life to be like in, say, a MASH unit (sans the battlefield casualties), or an obstetric ward in 1940 (sans the single-sex thing). There were about 20 beds, all lined up with curtains sorta/kinda dividing them. Each bed had the patient's name/dr's name and procedure sharpied on a placard tacked to the foot of it. SO much for HIPA. There were men, women, children, chickens, pigs, dogs (well, ok, not really...) milling about. The men, women and children part was right. It just felt so WRONG to be putting on the GOWN with only a curtain which could be ripped open at any time separating me from Mr. Smith/Dr. Jones/Hernia in the next bed. It was even worse to be in the bed and watching the other patients as they watched me. The children were amusing...one little 4-year-old boy ran away from both parents, most nurses and his doctors until he was caught at the exit door. That was one kid who did NOT WANT the tubes in his ears (HIPA, anyone?). The woman across from me was probably thrilled to have her colonoscopy discussed in great and loud detail (HIPA! baby!), but I confess it did help to pass the time as I waited for my doctor to show up, discusss my FINGER LUMP loudly and wheel me into the operating room.

My anesthesiologist showed up first. She was at least 12, so that was very comforting. She told me that they were going to put me to sleep using general anesthesia (the kind that COULD KILL YOU). I told her I really did not understand why there was such a big deal over a lump that seriously, I had contemplated cutting out one evening by myself while I was in the kitchen washing the sharp knives? Heh, she laughed, and then said, "Well, that is understandable...if you don't want the general anesthesia, we will simply give you a local."

WOW, I felt so empowered.

She then added, "And a little something to help you relax".

SO empowered. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be relaxed, but awake. I wanted to chat with the surgeon, to make sure he was cutting on the right finger (which actually was sharpied also...with "yes" on it), and on the whole to be a part of the whole procedure. Goodness knows, when I had the melanoma cut out (37 stitches and total privacy), the doctor, his nurse and I discussed the MCAT, med school (his grades, of course) and all manner of things.

This is how the finger surgery went...since I was awake and empowered, but just "relaxed", I can tell you:

They wheeled me into the OR. She gave me something to "help me relax". I think her exact words were (I'm not kidding), "This is what Michael Jackson used.".

The NEXT THING I REMEMBER, was...recovery.

Hmmmmm.

Anyway, it's all good. The lump is gone and while no one has 100 percent assured me it isn't cancer, I really think it's likely something very embarassing like a "fluid-filled cyst" or a "wart" or "wow, gross." I'll know more next week.

Yesterday, I took off the bandages. All that for TWO STITCHES. It truly looks more minor than Sweet Girl's knees and elbows after each and every soccer game. I'm almost too embarrassed to wag my finger at family members to get out of dish duty.

Almost.....