whoah! is me

4 days after my d&c surgery i woke up doubled over in pain. t.j. took me to the ER and i had my gallbladder and appendix removed and spent 6 days in the hospital. this hospital stay just happened to occur during what would have been our vacation to florida. why did i have my gallbladder removed? apparently pregnancy can wreck your gallbladder. why did i have my appendix removed? because the surgeon said it was "inflamed." to me, this is going to get your oil changed and you leave with a transmission flush. but whatever... who needs an appendix? hopefully not me.

along with finding out that morphine makes me retarded, t.j. is the most awesome human being on the face of planet earth, and that i secretly love being knocked out for surgery, here are 3 very poignant revelations i've had throughout my amazingly bad run of luck this month:


shave, shave, shave (and exfoliate) daily!
since the age of 18 i've lived my life prepared for being stripped down naked in a medical emergency. when i walked into the ER i was halfway ready for prom; manicured, pedicured, shaven, exfoliated, and mascara in place. and let's just say that at all times i am more prepared for the cover of playboy than the cover of national geographic. (i'm in no way comparing myself to a playboy model - i'm talking about ladyscaping.)


cream of wheat blows
self-explanatory


it can always be worse
at some point in my hospital stay i ripped my nose ring out on my loofah sponge. but guess what i didn't do? i didn't rip my eyeball out of its socket. now that would suck. as i was walking the halls i passed all kinds of really sick people. after everything i've been through i walked back into my hospital room with my iv pole wearing a gown that exposed my ass crack and i thanked the good lord for how amazingly awesome my life is.

when life gives you lemons, buy a 6 pack of beer

yesterday morning we went to our ultrasound only to find out that there was no heartbeat. because of the time that had elapsed between the baby's death and the discovery of it, i had to be in the operating room at 5:45 a.m. to have a d&c procedure. this is not my first miscarriage, but it is my first surgery as a result of one. and while this is not my usual funny blog post (just wait - i do have a funny story coming) a friend pointed out to me i could use my blog as way to talk candidly about something that is usually hush-hush. a lot of people wait until 12 weeks to make the announcement so that if something bad happens they don't have to do what i'm doing: publicly acknowledging the loss of a pregnancy. my thoughts on this: every baby is worthy of an announcement whether they make it full-term or not.

now... here is where i'm going to sound like a total ice queen: i tend to think of failed pregnancies in more of a biological sense than an emotional one. with my miscarriages i grieve for about 5 minutes then my mind shifts into procedural thinking - in this instance: what's next? will i have to be intubated? will it hurt? for how long? what will i do with roz? when will i be able to eat? can i have a miller lite this weekend? and just when you think i cannot be more of a heartless robot, let's go ahead and address the big-ass elephant in the room - if you read my last blog or talked to me you know i was not thrilled to be pregnant in the first place. i am sad for the loss of a potential child, but i am not sad about not being pregnant. not at all.  i have the cutest and healthiest baby on earth to keep me busy day-in and day-out. and t.j.? although he was very excited, he has the heartless robot thing down pat. he went straight into caretaker mode even though his plate is very full with work. it's times like these that his anal-retentive and obsessive compulsive disorders are very beneficial to our family.

bottom line: i am fine. he is fine. we are both fine. really. and rozzy? oh, she probably thought the whole deal was fantastic considering we had to get out of bed at 4:30 am this morning - her favorite time to wake for the day.

everyone deals with things in their own way. most would not be surprised to hear that my coping mechanism for every situation is laughter. you would think on a day where i'm encountering my first operating room that i would be a nervous wreck... well you are right - until my anesthesiologist came in and introduced himself as Dr. Dong. have you ever seen anyone break out into inappropriate laughter for an awkward 3 minutes before the loopy meds are pushed through the I.V.? because i really wanted to stop laughing, i tried to think of something serious to ask; instead i blurted out something about how there was a lot more crap in the operating room than what they show on grey's anatomy. i bet he couldn't wait to knock my ass out.

when i woke up i chatted up all the nurses in the post-op area. here are the topics i covered:
1) i was leaving for florida in a week and it really sucked that i couldn't have sex on vacation
2) although i couldn't have sex, at least i could still have a margarita. (i hate margaritas, so i must have really been out of it.)
3) my level of excitement due to feeling "high as giraffe balls" and that surgery was the hardest partying i had done in a while.
4) how hot the doctor was behind the counter and that he was probably a real asshole because "there's nothing worse than a good-looking doctor." (i'm pretty sure i was not whispering at this point.)

and although the nurses told me i was the most fun patient they had ever had, i hope to never go back there again. but if i do - i sure hope Dr. Dong is my anesthesiologist because for me, laughter really is the best medicine.