The hospital where I had my exchange surgery last week is "trying something new." Instead of being wheeled in on a gurney, I had the pleasure of walking (with a nurse) in my faded gown and anything-but-sassy, mustard-yellow, hospital-issued socks down an icy corridor — straight into the operating room.
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Once inside, they untied my gown and asked me to climb onto the surgical table. I was pleasantly surprised — it felt so soft, like a pillow-top mattress covered in warm flannel. (Turns out they just got new table pads. Score one for me.) As for the "trying something new," I reckon that just means less gurney guys in the wee small hours of the hospital morning.
Prior to my stroll into the OR, while waiting for the day to commence with my husband, we spoke to the very pleasant anesthesiologist about my vomiting tendencies. She assured us she would minimize the chance of this happening.
And so, after 19 long months, I finally, finally have the final surgery to remove my tissue expanders and replace them with permanent implants...
