if anyone ever tells you that your upcoming laparoscopic surgery will be a breeze...

...don't believe them - they are full of s--t!!!

I arrived at the hospital at 9am Monday morning, after an exciting Sunday of bowel prep and anxiety. I was taken into pre-op, and given an IV in my right hand, a spare IV hook-up in my left hand, and some really attractive tight white stockings on my legs. Before long, John was able to come sit with me, and we began our wait.

They came to move me at around 1:15 to the holding area. Here I was alone; no John to make me laugh and keep me safe. I met with my doctor, his fellow, the anesthesiologist, the anesthetist, and my nurse in a pink hat. All were very nice, comforting, reassuring. They all said "it'll be over soon," but they were all very very wrong. This was just the beginning.

I woke up after 7pm. They told me I was fine and that I'd be moving to a room soon. I was going to have to spend the night. Once they brought me to a room, John was allowed to join me and stay as long as he liked (the second bed was empty). I didn't sleep much. I couldn't turn the TV off with the remote, so Bob Costas talked to me into the wee hours. Various people came in and out to stick me and prod me and take my vitals. But finally morning came and with it, a visit from my doctor followed shortly by those heavenly words "you can go home."

But there was also pain - pain like you couldn't imagine. Not in my abdomen where the surgery was; but instead, the most incredible blinding pain in my shoulders. So sharp that I couldn't take a breath. Am I having a heart attack? I wondered. What they don't tell you when you're having laparoscopic surgery is that they are going to fill you up like a Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon, and when they're done, some of that gas will still be in your body. And some of it will drift up to your shoulders. And there it will hurt like hell. So I'm telling you! Laparoscopic surgery may be a breeze, but it will still hurt like hell!

Once that pain goes away, it is just a matter of having a sore abdomen. I have four incisions - one in my belly button, and three in a row a few inches above. The only one that really bothers me is the top one in the middle. And it only really hurts when I laugh, sneeze, cough, hiccup, or blow my nose. Usually, it is just an uncomfortable feeling rather than a pain.

Luckily(?), Tropical Storm Fay passed through our area the same week as my surgery, which meant that the school at which I work would be closed and my precious few sick days would be spared. I am stuck at home. I cannot drive, I cannot lift anything, I cannot push anything, I cannot pull anything. But I can watch TV and read and sleep, and so I have.

I have also seen the radiologist. Dr. Factor entered my life at 10:30 yesterday morning. Wearing a smile that never wavered, he spelled out for me the reality of my next few months. My radiation & chemo will likely start on September 8. I will have 20 minutes of external radiation (IMRT) each weekday morning for 5-6 weeks. On Mondays, I'll get a dose of chemo first (Cisplatin). Beginning in the 3rd or 4th week, the Friday treatment will be replaced with high-dose internal treatment (Brachytherapy). I'll have 5 of those in total. About a month after that, I should start feeling more my old self.

Next week, I get to start with a chemo orientation, CT scan, MRI, and visit to endocrinologist to monitor my ovarian function. I'll also be getting a port, but I don't want to talk about that now. At least I find that each day, my abdomen is a little less sore and I am able to be a little more active. For now, that is enough.

Thank you all for your kind words of support. It means so much to me to know you are behind me (but if you'd like to stand in front of me, I certainly wouldn't stop you)!