I had to have an IVP done on my kidneys a week before surgery. This is what I had to drink to clean out my bowels 24 hours before. I do not recommend. They make it flavored to trick you into thinking it will taste good. It does not.

And this is what my arms looked like after 2 weeks of blood samples and other tests. Used and abused.

The day of surgery, we get to the Women’s Hospital and they immediately send me into a private room to change into my super sexy hospital gown. I thought it was a bit too small, but the nurses were really busy with prep so I just dealt with it.

The nurses at the hospital were so sweet. When one came in to draw blood (I don’t know why they couldn’t just use the 23 vials they took last week) she took one look at my arms and gasped. “This is not my doing,” she said. “I would never bruise you like this.” And very gently, she took my blood, and I didn’t slap her. My parents were sitting on the couch in my room with me, and I was bragging to my dad how they always find a vein and it never hurts, and that I like to watch the needle go in because I think it’s cool.

Another nurse came in and put these cool compression tights on my legs and some pretty nifty socks with traction on the bottom so I won’t slip and fall. I kind of felt like I was at a spa. She was so gentle.

When it’s time to wheel me away, I say goodbye to the parents and go to the pre-op room. I sit there for another hour. They give me a couple of magazines to read but since I care not about celebrity gossip, those got tossed aside and I had f*ck all to do. I tried to sleep in between multiple nurses coming over to verify my name, the surgery I was having, what allergies I had, etc. Dr. Mangal came in to say hi and look over my paperwork. Then a nurse came over to put in my IV.

She started with my left hand and it hurt like a MOTHER, and I’m watching my vein blow up like a balloon. I’ve never seen that before. I yell “Take it out! Take it out!” She’s calm though, and says she probably just hit a valve. That sounds safe. Then she tries the vein in my left wrist. Same thing. I’m starting to regret the cockiness I had earlier with my father. She then moves over to my right side, and I tell myself I’m going to punch her if she doesn’t get it this time. Luckily, the 3^rd time was the charm and I was good to go. Although I did have a bit of trepidation, taking it as some sort of omen as to how the surgery would go….gulp.

I tell them I’m a little nervous so they give me something they call “a margarita without the calories.” Sold! Then I’m being wheeled into surgery. The operating room is bright and full of people bustling about to get everything ready. I hear Al Green on the speakers and I get excited. Is that weird? I mean, Al Green! Everything will be okay. I start dancing in my bed and I hear someone say “I think she’s feeling the meds.” Fool. I do that whether I’m on drugs or not. Then a sweet nurse says “I’m going to put this mask on your face for a bit to help you breathe.”

Next thing I know, they’re waking me up in recovery. So WEIRD how that works, right? My brain is mush and I can’t keep my eyes open, but my uterus is wrenching my body with wrath born from hell. I sit up and bend over in agony, rocking back and forth and holding my abdomen. A nurse runs over and says “Miss Parker, Miss Parker! Please lie down.” But I do a half cry, half moan and say “I can’t. My cramps. My cramps. I can’t.” I just keep rocking back and forth. I guess she leaves to go call the doctor, because the next thing I remember is her coming back and telling me that he ordered Dilaudid for me.

This moment, the moment I am finally introduced to Dilaudid, I will remember for the rest of my life. Oh sweet blessings of heaven, this drug swam through my veins and I found myself on a cloud of bliss so high I didn’t even have a uterus anymore.

I’m taken into a private room while they grab my parents. I fall back asleep during this time. They wake me up again, and my parents are sitting on the couch to my right. I lift my head and can directly see my mother. As soon as I see her face, I knew it was bad news. I choke out “How was it? Did he get it all?” She just gives me a sad look and says “No sweetheart, it was worse than he thought. You have stage 4 and he couldn’t do anything. You’ll have to have another surgery in 3 months.” I start crying, then fall back asleep 6 seconds later.