Yeah, It’s been 15 days since it happened (and a day after I promised it), and I’m just getting around to typing it all out. I blame the drugs, the inability to sit up, and the fact that TypePad decided to lock up on me when I was almost finished, thereby negating hours of work. THANKS TYPEPAD! These problems have (mostly) been corrected. Also, heavy parenthetical usage ahead. You’ve been warned.

March 19th I stayed at a hotel across from UCLA and my alarm went off at 4:15am. A useless event, as I hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before. I got up, brushed my teeth (carefully, as not to swallow any water), and sat on the edge of the bed with my previously packed backpack, waiting for Kevin to come get me so we could go to the hospital. My stomach, completely empty now due to the intestinal cleaning the night before, felt like a football team had set up residence and was running practice routes. I was alternately shaky and light-headed. Kevin, being one of my favorite people on the planet, was awesome. He kept the conversation upbeat and light hearted, which is exactly what I needed. I arrived at Admissions at 5am, filled out my paperwork, and was told I would be called at 5:30 to go to pre-op. Jas called me to let me know that he was stuck in traffic (only in LA is there traffic at 5 freaking am), but would be there as soon as humanly possible. My parents were going to be there around 7ish, in hopes that my surgery was at 8 (since the hospital had told me 8, but the surgeon had told me it was at 6:30). I didn’t have a watch on, but it seemed to me that I was called down to pre-op well before 5:30. You’re only allowed to have one person at a time accompany you to pre-op, so Kevin came with me, since Jas wasn’t there yet. I stripped, got into my oh-so-lovely hospital gown, and hung out on the bed watching Charmed and chatting with Kevin. (BTW, Charmed? At 5am?) It was quiet for a while. One nurse came in and went over my medical history, and then disappeared. Kevin warned me that all the sudden I’d be surrounded by people, and boy was he right. The anesthesiologist (SUPER CUTE!) came in at the same time that the surgical nurse, surgeon, and some other assistant type all showed up. It was 6:15 and I knew things were getting close, so I asked Kevin to go upstairs and look for Jason for me. He did and came back saying that he’d called and Jas would be about 15 more minutes. The surgeon scared the hell out of me and asked what surgery I was having. At my panicked look, he explained that he just had to make sure I knew. After I confirmed the kidney removal, he wrote YES on my skin in marker. Sweet. I got all hooked up to an IV, and the anesthesiologist started whatever drugs they start. I was quickly rolled into the OR, and asked to move to the operating table. And that’s the last thing I remember.

Jas told me later that he got there and asked to see me, and they kept telling him that my family member was already with me, and only one was allowed at a time. He got quite agitated with them, trying to explain that HE was my husband, not the guy downstairs, and could they go remove Kevin so Jas could see me. Apparently no one had told the upstairs people that I was already in the OR, so they were pissing Jas off for nothing. Mom said that he was grumpy about it most of the morning, which made me feel a little better.

Now, apparently when you’re in the hospital for long periods of time without walking, they put these massager things on your legs to keep the blood moving and prevent clots. They squeeze really slowly, and alternate back and forth between legs. It’s a good 15-20 seconds between the time they start on one leg to the time they start on the other. I felt something squishing my leg, and started waking up. I remember thinking "Oh my gosh, I’m alive." I tried looking toward the end of the bed to see who was squeezing me, but didn’t have my glasses on, and couldn’t see anything. I vaguely remember asking someone for my glasses, and then fell back asleep. When I woke up the next time (the wall clock said it was 11:15), my glasses were on my face, and I was dying of thirst. I croaked "hello" toward the center of the room, and a nurse came over. I first asked about Kelly, but she was still in surgery. Then I asked for water, but was only allowed an ice chip. One. I don’t know if you’ve all ever been dying of thirst before, but one ice chip does nothing to help. I asked to see my family, the next time someone came to check my vitals, and they said I could see them when I went upstairs to my room,  which would be shortly. A nurse came to take me up to my room about 40 minutes later, and told me my family should be there when I got there. Except they were not. I asked for them again when the floor nurse came to say hi, and was told again they’d be there in a minute. Which was actually an hour. During that hour I spent time examining the road map of marker that the doctor’s had thoughtfully left on my stomach. I remember wondering if I followed the map, would I get a prize? And then fell asleep. Again.

Mom, Dad, Jas and Kevin came in about 1pm and hung out for a while. Mom and Dad brought me a super cute stuffed Curious George for me to cuddle with. I used to LOVE him as a kid, so it was really cool to have him back. I immediately asked Kevin about Kelly and he said she was just getting into recovery, but was doing great! The kidney was working right away, and everything looked good. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to hear that. They stayed and chatted for a while. Mom and Dad went to get food about 2:45, so Jas and I could have some time together. Except at 3:10 I started falling asleep. Since Jas had to leave at 3:45 anyhow, I told him to go early and get lunch, and that I’d see him Thursday when I went home. I don’t remember much after that, but I know my parents came up with my sister at about 4:30. By this time I was pretty coherent, and in a lot of pain. The gas that they’d filled me with for the surgery  was moving around in my stomach and in my body, and every time it moved it felt like some one was kicking or stabbing me. Not so much fun! Mom and Dad stayed a while, and then left me and my sister to hang out. She stayed until Big Brother was on (yes, even in the hospital I fed my addiction) and then left me to go home.

Thursday morning about 6am I was told I had to get up and start walking. Oh joy! My stomach muscles were non-existent. It took me 10 minutes to go from a sitting position on the bed, to a standing position next to it. I walked down to visit Kelly (because for some dumb reason we couldn’t share a room) and we got to chat for about 10 minutes, before I had to make the long trek (all 4 doors) back to my bed, where I proceeded to crash for almost 3 hours. I was exhausted.   Duke came to visit, and spent a few hours entertaining me, and helping to distract me from the pain. I was supposed to go home on Thursday, but I still felt really uncomfortable about it, since I was hurting so much. The nurse told me that the doctor (who I’d never seen or heard of) said I needed to go home. When the doctor came up, she tried persuading me that going home was what I needed. She wasn’t getting that I was in too much pain for feel comfortable outside the hospital, so I told a wee little white lie about my husband not being home to help me out. She seemed agitated about it, and told me that I needed to think about it. I could still be discharged later in the day. I never saw her again. My surgeon came in later, and I told him about the pain I was having and that I didn’t think I would be ok going home. He was completely ok with me staying another day. I told him what the doctor had said earlier, and he said he’d handle it. Duke told me later that he saw the bitchy doctor downstairs, and she told him that I was welcome to stay as long as I liked. (He was there when she came in, so I’m assuming she thought he was family.) I thought it was interesting that A) she changed her mind so quickly, and B) she never bothered to come tell ME that she changed her mind. My nurse came up later to tell me that I was free to stay another day, and also to give me more wonderful pain meds. About the same time, Kelly’s daughter Portia came to visit, and delivered me the stuffed elephant that Duke bought for me on his way out. (Yes, I’m almost 29 and stuffed animals make me happy. Bite me.) Since Jason had to coach a track meet Thursday afternoon, I told him that he didn’t need to come visit (we live 60 miles from UCLA, and with traffic it can be anywhere from 2-3 hours, one way). My sister, however, came to visit after work, and brought me a Mr. Duck! (There’s a story behind Mr. Duck, and if someone reminds me, I’ll tell it later). She spent a few hours making me laugh (which hurt like hell), and she also bought me mashed potatoes and ice cream, 2 of my favorite comfort foods. Best. Sister. Ever.

Friday morning I really did feel good enough to leave. Don’t get me wrong, I was REALLY sore and really tired, but I didn’t feel like it was something I couldn’t handle. Jas dropped Mia off at my parent’s house, and came to get me. He took down all my luggage and then came back for me, my balloons (thanks mom and dad!), my flowers (thanks Mitch!), and the aforementioned Curious George, Elephant, and Mr. Duck. I’m sure we were quite a sight rolling down the hall. The ride home was horrible. I felt every lump, bump, pit, hole, curve, and rock on the road. Magically, I fell asleep part of the way home (yay drugs!) otherwise it would have been exponentially worse. Jas was great, though. When he saw a pothole or a bump, he would warn me, so I could hug my pillow tighter against my stomach. (It works as a shock absorber, or something). I took us 3 hours to go 60 miles. I love LA! We managed to stop at KFC so I could get some mashed potatoes for my oh-so-healthy dinner. (Comfort food. I wasn’t kidding.) He helped me out of my car and on to the couch, where I stayed planted for the next week. The pain killers made me really dizzy and very sleepy, so I didn’t like taking them during the day, but Friday was the exception. I took one as soon as we got home, and then one before bed. The rest of the time I’ve been on Extra Strength Tylenol (per my surgeon’s suggestion) and I took the dizzy/sleepy pill at night for the first few days. (I think it’s Hydrocodone, but I’m not sure, and I’m too lazy to get up and check.)

So that’s the story of the donation, as far as I can remember. I feel a lot better, and I’m moving around a lot more. The steri-strips have finally fallen off of two of my little scars. The other two have loosened considerably, and because they were making me itch, I trimmed the edges. My big scar is still covered by steri-strips, and it doesn’t look like they’re coming off any time soon. (I’m not allowed to remove them. They have to fall off themselves.) The little guys have bruises around them still, and not all of the "road map" marker has come off, especially around the top one. It’s a little too tender to scrub off, so I’m leaving it be. Below is a picture of the little scars. Remember it’s two weeks after the surgery, so they’ve healed a bunch. Also remember that I am still very swollen, and filled with excess gas from the surgery, so I look much fatter than I am (plus I can’t suck in my stomach. My muscles don’t work that way yet. Dammit.). The trimmed steri-strips look a little like the toilet paper scraps that guys use when they cut themselves shaving. I’m not sure why I find that so funny.

(I will admit that I was tempted to PhotoShop this picture so that I’d look more tan, and less fat. But I figured the fat is really just swelling, and fish belly white might evoke a little more sympathy. Fake it if you must.)

If I missed anything that you are curious about, feel free to ask. I’ve rambled on forever, but I’m sure I still missed something.