All is well.

The surgery went beautifully. I'm home, resting, and generally fine. The anesthesia withdrawal and the 4:00 a.m. wake-up are catching up with me, and the Vicodin is wearing off, so I'm feeling a bit of discomfort and dizziness, but mostly, I feel pretty normal.

I worked myself into a bit of panic last night, wondering whether I was making the right decision, after all. The same set of doubts reared their little heads this morning, as Steve and I rode along the silent early-morning highway. Why was I doing this? Why undergo a surgical procedure that would destroy my residual hearing and put me out of the office for a week during this crazy-busy stretch? Why set myself up for a long and uncertain relearning process, complete with frequent schlepping out to Aurora? Why take myself out of athletic commission for at least a week or two in the middle of the climbing and tri-training season? For what benefit? When would it come? Why, why, why? Could we still turn around and go home, and back to sleep?

But Steve reminded me that neither the surgery nor the recovery would be so terrible, and that hearing more, and better, has the potential to significantly improve my life. Plus, he said, how cool would it be to tell people he was married to a Bionic Woman?

I took some deep breaths, wiped my eyes, and did my best to let go of the fear. By the time I was lying in the pre-op bed, IV in my hand, goofy-looking shower cap over my curls, and a crew of nurses and doctors bustling in and out of my curtained space, I really was ready.

I don't remember the rest of it, of course. Perhaps 3 hours later, I realized I was floating on the edge of consciousness. I wanted to dream a bit longer - I was in Sardinia, rock climbing with Steve, and I hated to leave that idyll. When I did surface, my head was fuzzy and my throat raw. The nurse had remembered my request to return my left hearing aid after the surgery, so at least I could hear. I babbled something about rock climbing, and then I started to cry.

I tried to tell the nurse that it was "stress crying," residual tears left over from my pre-surgery anxiety. I don't know if my words were coherent, but she was patient and kind and brought me a box of tissues. Another nurse came over and chatted with me about climbing in Eldo. I'm not sure whether he was genuinely interested, or just trying to help me relax, but the conversation cleared my head.

Dr. Cass arrived, beaming and energetic. He said everything had gone perfectly. I tried to ask him questions, but started to cry again, and again apologized incoherently for my tears. The doctor bounced away, heading back to the OR for another surgery.

The nurse wheeled me back into the pre-op room. Another nurse, a guy with just the kind of sarcastic sense of humor I needed, finally allowed me to drink some ice water, which soothed my parched and tube-ravaged throat and, more than anything else had, helped calm me. My head was hurting quite a lot around the incision, so the nurse gave me Vicodin (and some graham crackers), which eventually eased the discomfort.

Then Steve and my mom were there, smiling and obviously relieved. We got instructions and a prescription. I dressed, the nurse wheeled me to the car, and home we went.

I spent the afternoon playing Settlers of Catan with Steve and my parents. They didn't let me win, so I must be OK.

Despite some intermittent dizziness, the incision-area pain that is reminding me now to take another pain pill, and my still-raw throat, I feel good. So far, I'm not having any problems moving around or communicating. It's harder for me to hear with just the left ear in business, but not so much harder that I can't interact with people.

Tomorrow, I can remove the giant bandage from around my head and take a shower, which should go a long way towards helping me heal. For now, I'm rocking the Cindi Lauper Circa 1984 Look:

Comments

[div]

You pull the look off so much better than La Lauper! Although really, didn't they have a hot pink bandage they could give you? I'm so glad that it went well, and I'm sending my best wishes for a speedy recovery.

[michele friedner]

Hi Madeline,

Lots and lots of congratulations on a successful surgery! (Wait, do you congratulate people after they've had successful surgergies? I can't remember.) You look like a mad tennis player with your bandage. I look forward to additional updates on how it's going and I hope you'll also do a piece on the ear pieces that you decide to get/make/decorate...

Best,
Michele

[Sarah banshee]

Mad, you look ten times better than anyone straight out of surgery has any business looking - not sure whether that's down to the foxy headband, or the Vicodin!

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

xxx

[Jill]

You look gorgeous! So glad to know that all went well. Love from the ATL...JGN

[fish]

excellent! glad to hear it went well!! those little things about surgery - especially the throat thing from the breathing tube and the wanting liquid and food - are sooooo annoying! but then it's over and all is good!!!

[geri]

Gorgeous do-rag Mad! Those curls would look sassy no matter what. Hope you're feeling better and better. xoxo.

[stacyg]

YOU LOOK GREAT!!! So glad things went well. I hope the pain subsides.

[Crane/Pru]

Yeah! Very pleased to hear all went well. How do you manage to look so dashing post surgery?

[Christine]

Sassy is right! You just had surgery? And you are still looking so good. Nice, nice work.

I'm so sorry that you had the pre-surgery stress but am so happy you have so many people in your life who are taking care of you.