Do The Robot! (my surgery)

Soooo...I had to take off from work the day BEFORE the surgery (robotic myomectomy). Dr. A put me on a liquid diet. That meant no solids and only clear liquids, plus I had to drink some stuff to clear my bowels.

CHICKEN...all I could think of was chicken. I didn't know how I would survive this diet and I was only about an hour in. I took a moment to google why a doctor would choose to torture me just a day before he planned to cut me open. Once I learned that they needed the bowels clear to make sure there would be no "contamination" during the actual surgery,  I got the strength to make it through the "clear diet."

On the day of surgery I was feeling good. Two of my favorite people were by my side-- my mother and my husband. We arrived at the hospital two hours before the operation, as the doctor scheduled.

CHICkEN WAS STILL ALL I COULD THINK OF, but the "REAL STUFF" was under way. A nurse came in to put in my IV. She made two attempts and said she couldn't do it. Not only were my veins small, but they had all but disappeared because I stopped drinking liquids at 8 the night before, as the doctor ordered. Lucky for her AND me she was beyond nice and gentle, so I wasn't freaked out.  I wasn't even freaked out when the second nurse came in and pretty much spanked my hand to make my veins appear. Moments later, the IV was in and I was good to go.

A string of doctors came in to talk to me and my peeps (mom and hubby). Just as I was about to cry a bit, the anestisiologist came in. Since I don't cry in front of strangers, I sucked it up. My mom and hubby left and I was given something to relax. Next thing I knew, two guys wheeled me down the hall and into an operating room. They told me to move over a bit and *snap* I  was out.

When I woke up, I heard a voice call me angle face and saw the inside of the recovery room. I thought I should be able to get up and go. My mom and hubby were back in the room, but I couldn't leave.

The doctor completed a robotic myomectomy on me. He made five incisions across my abdomen so that my stomach resembled Tupac and his "thug life" tattoo. During the time I was knocked out, he removed two fibroids. One of which had a baby fibroid trying to grow out of it.   So technically, that brought my total to three. In all, they weighed a half pound, which sucks. I was 10 pounds over weight, not a half pound (lol).  But in all seriousness, Dr. A said if i am able to get pregnant, i will deliver by c-section because of the big incision he made at the back of my uterus. Oh..he also told me I'd have to give my uterus three months to recover before I could try to conceive again.

As I stood up in the recovery room, I didn't know any of that. All I knew is that I couldn't move as fast as I wanted and I needed to pee. They wouldn't release me, until I peed. I had a major breakdown, which I thoroughly believe was related to all the drugs in my system.

I freaked out after the nurse gave me peanut butter and crackers. My mouth was dry and the peanut butter stuck to my mouth. I COULD NOT handle it. I totally lost it, but mom and hubby took it in stride. They calmed me down, gave me water and got me back in bed.

From there, I needed to pee. BUT I COULDN'T!!!  It took about four hours.  The nurse scanned me with a machine to make sure I had something in my bladder. I finally took my iPhone to the potty. Believe it or not, reading facebook helped me to relax and pee (hooray!)

Needless to say, I was no longer thinking about chicken.  About three days passed before I could think of food again.

A traditional myomectomy takes six to eight weeks to recover from and you have to stay in the hospital overnight. A robotic one takes two to four weeks and you don't stay in the hospital overnight. But don't get it twisted like I did---it is surgery. I took large doses of ibuprofen for two weeks to fight off inflammation, plus I had oxycodone for moments when the pain was too much. Lucky for me, I only needed two or three of those for my entire recovery.

I was taking small walks by the end of the first week after my surgery. By week two, I was bored and wanted to go back to work. I returned to work on week three and learned I was not 100%, but I was about 80%. Truth be told, it probably wouldn't have hurt me to take three weeks off work...no matter how boring it would have been.

All in all, it went ok. I'm finally three months post op. At the time of the surgery, my uterus was the size of a 16-week pregnant woman and I had a pouchy looking stomach. Now, my belly is back to a normal size.

I can start trying to conceive next month, but I'm nervous and scared. I don't know if I'll actually start trying.

Meeting Mr. Miracle (ok..the doctor)

I prayed for this surgery. I prayed for it. I went in to meet the recommended surgeon in January knowing full well that I would be leaving the state in April. I needed a miracle to actually trust this surgeon and get a date for the operation.

My appointment was on MLK day. This happened to be the first year that my job was actually acknowleding it as a paid holiday, so I didn't have to take a sick day (hooray!).

As I drove to the hospital, I told my mother that if this doctor was scary, looked like Dr. Death or smelled, he was not going to get a chance to cut me open.   I had already looked at his picture on the internet and let me tell you, his chances of getting me on the operating table were looking slim.

With that said, I approached our first appointment with as much positivity as I could. I felt like I spent a lot of time in a room waiting for him. I passed the time by playing Scrabble on my iPad. He caught me mid game and to my surprise, was quite interested.  It turns out that he loves playing the game with his wife(that touched my heart).

I was thinking, "ok, this guy is down to earth and he is far better looking in person." That Internet picture didn't do him any justice, but there was one problem-- he looked really young to me. BUT..he knew his stuff.

He looked over my MRI, felt me up (you know--the usual "down there" examination) and determined that I was an excellent candidate for a robotic myomectomy. During that time he called me tiny. Yup, he said I was so tiny that he wanted to make sure my torso was big enough for him to use the robot.

Well after that, he could do no wrong. He called me tiny when I was nowhere near it. He went on to tell me that not only was he concerned about the fibroid obstructing my cervix, but he feared the smaller one was blocking any chance of a miracle egg implantation because it was growing in the most desirable part of my baby-cooker (uterus).

Because he is a pioneer with the use of robotics in gynecology, his surgery schedule was packed. He told me that the earliest he could get me in was March. However, he would try to get me in earlier if there was a cancellation.

After many schedule changes and lots of prayer, I was blessed with a surgery date of February 25th. That meant I could get it before our move and before we lost our insurance because of my husband's job change. Thank You, Lord!