What the Hell?

I'm waking up from surgery on my right eye, trying to fight through the anesthesia and mild nausea to the fire alarm blaring. How close to Hell am I?? The announcement continues that we aren't in danger, but should stay in our room. That does make me feel a bit better, but now I'm worried about where my family members are. Pain sears down my nose. I can see the nurses in the hall going to check on things. I'm glad when they are finally able to let me know that everyone is safe and that workmen in another wing have tripped the alarm. What a way to wake up! And I'm more than a little ticked that I am nauseous. They seriously promised to have that under control.

It takes me forever to shake off the fogginess and be able to answer the nurses coherently. They tell me Dr. Cuite has spoken to my family and left the building. With yet another snow storm on track, she needs to see her other patients before we are trapped by the weather. I'm told that I was given a different anesthesia routine to combat the queasy feelings, but that she took more bone out of my nose, causing a lot of blood to drain out my nose and down my throat. That didn't sit very well in my tummy! And my nose near the inner corner of the eye is in stabbing pain. I'm offered narcotics, but they come with that 'upset stomach' warning. Hmm, let's pass on that one - I can handle this.

 The next morning, we beat the snow storm and are able to get to the doctor's office  so she can remove the stitch. Just a pinch and she's done. This doesn't look too bad. Delightfully, no double vision!

 The bruising looks darker to me than the last time, though, but not as much swelling. That seems to extend down my cheek more. The pain in the bone is much more than last time.

 The change in anesthesia left me with no tummy issues this time - hurray! But the Prednisone anxiety is just as deep and unsettling. Amos has his paws full cuddling up with me. I spend the day birthday shopping for a new collar for him. He'll be 5 on Valentine's Day - my little sweetheart. Even Chester is full of sympathy when he sees my face all swathed in bandages when I got home. The husband, however, hides much of the days, leaving my to find my own medications, food and ice. He is a terrible nurse. But he did get to the sporting goods store and bought bullets. This is a very, very long winter.