Dilation and Curettage

I had my D&C on Thursday morning.  Despite everything that was going on, everyone encouraged me to get it over with.  My mom and I got up really early.  I had to be at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. and it takes around 45 minutes to get there.  The procedure was scheduled for 7:30, but I didn't yet have any of my pre-surgery stuff done yet.  It was a good thing we were really early, because when we got there the office didn't really have any record of me.  Finally, the woman tracked down some paperwork and created some new.  While she was working she shared her life story with me.  I tend to have that affect on people.  Especially women.  So, there I sat awaiting surgery at 6 something in the morning and this middle aged woman was telling me all about her divorce.  I'll just say that she is a very bitter divorcee right now.  I told her I would be praying for her and hugged her.  On our way up in the elevator my mom told me that it was the social worker gene in me.  She's been in social work for many years. 

We waited in the waiting area for just a few minutes before they called me back.  The first thing awaiting me was the scales.  The very last thing that I wanted to see that morning.  It wasn't pretty folks.  Then a nurse (she stayed with me until the operating room) showed me to my pre-op room.  I peed in a cup.  Seriously, I despise peeing in a cup.  It's a trapeze act.  It never fails that I will pee all over everything.  The cup, my hand, the toilet, etc.  Then I took everything off and put on my gown, booties, and hat.  The nurse told me to make myself comfortable on the gurney.  And people started filing through.  A foreign man, he had a European accent, took several vials of blood from my right arm.  I was so impressed that he was able to get the stick on the first try.  I warned him that my veins are deep and they roll.  Those blood people always take that as a personal challenge.  I figure it's good for them though.  About the same time my nurse started working on my left side.  She needed to get an I.V. started.  I told her that in the past I had them in the back of my hands.  It hurts, but it's fast and it's a sure fire way to get a vain on me.  She made quick work of it also.  These people were good!  Then came the anesthesiologists.  I told them that I had a really bad experience the last time I was under and they figured out their plan of action right there in front of me.  I thought that was really cool.  A few other medical people came in and introduced themselves since they would be assisting.  Finally, my doctor arrived.  Just before she got there they had given me my first relaxer.  So, I was a little woozy.  They gave me more before my ride.  Everything got fuzzy but I didn't mind.  I remember hearing the things going on in the hallway as they wheeled me off.  I opened my eyes when they got me into the operating room.  I scooted from the gurney to the table when they told me too.  The table was hard and narrow.  I didn't know what to do with my arms.  It was like they read my mind.  Someone pulled out arm rests on each side.  I was like, "Oh, how convenient".  A lady put a mask over my face.  I am very claustrophobic when it comes to things over my face.  But, the medication was doing it's job and I didn't seem to care.  Then I realized that those arm rests weren't really for my comfort.  They intended to strap me down.  I had the thought,"If they strap me down I'm going to freak out".  I'm not usually real big on loss of control.  But, I didn't.  Dang that stuff was good!  A woman was speaking softly to me.  Telling me that everything was going well.  "Let's go to a happy place", she said.  "How about some place tropical".  I meant to answer her that it sounded good to me, but I didn't get a chance.  I was out. 

When I woke up, there was a lot of stuff going on around me.  There were people laying on gurneys on each side of me.  It was like a recovery line up.  I must have tried to take a deep breath.  I don't think that I woke up coughing.  But, I spent probably next 10 minutes doing so.  There was a rattle in my throat and I couldn't get it out.  A nurse was standing near me and I told her I needed to spit.  She handed me some tissues.  I spit and was horrified to see blood.  Blood coming from the mouth = PANIC!  I started spitting up as much as I could while crying at the same time.  I couldn't breath. I said that I wanted my mom several times.  People just kept walking passed me and looking at me. I felt like I wasn't getting any help.  I was the only one concerned about the fact that I was obviously hemorrhaging.  I knew my mom would demand action if she knew how I was being ignored.  But, they told me that she wasn't allowed back there.  I continued to cough and sputter.  At the foot of my appeared one of the anesthesiologists.  A woman.  The same woman that had been talking to me before I passed out.  She explained to me that during intubation they scratched my throat.  Thanks to the show E.R. I knew what intubation was.  She said that the blood was normal and not to be scared.  I told her I couldn't breath and she said they were working on that.  Just then someone put another mask over my face.  They were giving me a breathing treatment.  I questioned the woman at the end of my bed.  I had seen enough of those done at daycare to know what was going on.  She said that my oxygen was a little low.  She asked me about asthma.  I mentioned it to her before, but I only have it with allergies.  Well, not anymore.  She said that my tubes were constricting.  My panic attack had only made things worse.  After the treatment they had me suck on an inhaler and then put those breathing tube things in my nose.  Normally I wouldn't like those either, but I was just happy for the assistance.  Finally I was stable enough to get a room.  Oh, wait I forgot about how badly I had to pee.  I told everybody that came near me that I had to pee so bad.  I'm really surprised that I didn't wet the bed.  Just outside of my room, two nurses worked to get me standing upright so I could visit the bathroom.  I shuffled in and just barely got sat down.  Man, oh man, did it hurt though.  I guess after being catheterized urinating can sometimes be painful at first.  If I could have hit the ceiling I would have.  I had a few more of those after too.  It was like passing razor blades.  I spent some time in my little room.  My mom joined me and the nurse watching my oxygen.  I coughed more.  My throat was on fire and I couldn't take a deep breath.  They ordered a chest x-ray for me just to make sure I didn't aspirate any of the blood into my lungs.  That was interesting.  The nurse wasn't very good at driving a gurney.  Then it took three people to hold all of my devices (and me) for the x-ray.  It turned out fine though.  When I got back to my room, my dad and husband had arrived.  Apparently I had spent so much time in the various recovery stages that they had time to get there.  Finally I had been stable enough long enough that I could go home.  It was around 12:30 p.m. by the time we left. 

The procedure had gone fine.  My doctor said that no matter how hard she tried to keep my cervix dilated, it would clamp down on her.  I think it's funny that I'm uptight even when I'm totally out.  She said that I have the smallest pelvic area she ever saw.  No duh.  She sent some of the tissue off to be tested, but she didn't think that I had cancer or anything.  I've done really well the past few days.  I haven't really had any cramping.  I'm still bleeding a little, but hopefully it will stop very soon.  My biggest complaint has been my throat.  But, it's nothing that banana Popsicles can't fix.  Over all, it wasn't the worst experience ever and I hope that it was worth it.