I'd like to be comfortably numb, please

In my ongoing effort to be a better blogger, I'm posting here without really having much to say. Tomorrow I will be going in for my ureteroscopy and hopefully getting this fucking stent out of my innards. As previously mentioned, I've had so many surgeries that I don't get too excited about it anymore. I know that I have to take my Prevacid the morning of the surgery to make sure my stomach acid doesn't reflux; I know when to stop eating and drinking; I know to tell the anesthesiologist that I get nauseous afterwards but it is easily thwarted if they give me some antiemetics in the OR, and that I am a heavy coffee drinker so if they can give me a shot of caffeine while I'm in there it will help mitigate the after-anesthesia splitting headache. I pack a Tupperware and some paper towels in the car in case I throw up on the way home. I'm kind of a professional patient.

The best part and the scariest part for me is the general anesthesia. Best because I love that momentary feeling of surrender and utter relaxation after they push the juice in; scary because well, you know, you can die. But I figure I've made it through the process like 10 times now so I'll probably keep making it through. And, if I don't, it's not a bad way to go. You wouldn't even know what was happening.

One of the things that annoys me is that whenever I'm having a surgery, J. is usually not really there emotionally for me. I mean, he is helpful and accommodating, but the time spent in the waiting room or the exam room waiting for the surgery usually finds J. reading a book or, more likely, sleeping.

There is something about hospitals that immediately puts J. to sleep. Last time I had surgery, in July, he fell asleep for almost the whole time I was waiting in the exam room. He slept through the IV placement and everything. I had to wake him up when they started wheeling me away so that I could say goodbye. Then, he told me later, he slept in the waiting room all through my surgery and the surgeon had to wake him up to explain what she did to me and how I was. Therefore, he couldn't really provide me with any of the details from the surgery that he was supposed to pass on because he was so groggy from sleeping. I always say I'm going to have a friend take me "next time" but whenever next time comes, I don't want to be that big of a burden on anyone, so I just drag him along.

J. and I have discussed this but by now I know that there's no stopping it--it's almost like he doesn't have control over it. He's kind of the professional spouse of the patient. Doesn't get too worked up anymore. Although he did recently tell me that after I lost Hope, when I started hemmorhaging two weeks later and had to have an emergency D&C, he almost passed out when they took me to the OR because he was so afraid I was going to die. He said, "They never do anything quickly at the University of WKWKYKBYSOUM Hospitals and Clinics, so to see them rushing around to get you into surgery terrified me." That was sweet.

So anyway, I will probably sleep okay tonight, and do pretty well until the drive up to the hospital, at which point I will get a little fluttery feeling in my stomach which will go away during the interminable wait betweent the initial examination/gowning/temperature-taking at the beginning and the IV placement/wheeling down to the OR at the end. Then I'll have that sweet moment of bliss, get knocked out, wake up feeling like shit and begin the recovery process. Wish me luck!