Hello all. Thank you again for your prayers, good vibes, and well wishes on my behalf yesterday. I’m sure they helped. As it turned out, my three days of anxiety ended up being much worse than the actual procedure. It was much more pleasant than having my gallbladder removed, that’s for sure. Here I am before the happy drugs…

(knitting away on Marianna’s poncho in an attempt to relax. I wanted Nate to stand up and get a head on picture which would most likely be more flattering, and so you could see my nifty new basket that is stepping in for my regular one, which currently reeks of smoke damage. For whatever reason, it didn’t end up happening.)

And after…

I have no pride. Does anyone look good in the hospital? Blah. And you all get to see it.

And finally, the comment that shocked my doctor.

The hospital had plenty of advance notice that they were getting a needle-phobe yesterday. My referring specialist sent it with my files. I let the woman in admitting know that I wanted oxygen and why. I happened to see a note attached to my chart in all caps and red ink alerting anyone who might come near me that I have issues. (I’m so happy when people listen). So it was up in the air whether or not to give me an IV for sedation, or to have me suck it up and take the injection unaltered. (I don’t understand this in the least, but someone thought it was a sound option). In my pre-procedure consultation, the doctor performing the injection discussed with me the possibility of proceeding without sedation, and thereby avoiding the dreaded IV. It seemed as though we were moving in that direction when I asked my final question.

“How long,” I ask, “am I going to have to sit still and keep my wits while you’re puncturing me?”

“About five minutes”, he replies, looking rather strange. I sit and ponder for a brief second.

“I will pass out,” I declare. Within seconds, I was on my back, I had oxygen on my face, and they were administering an IV. I guess that made it easy. Next, I was given happy drugs, and all was well with the world.

I have little memory of the procedure itself. Nate was in the room, so he helped to remind me of some of the conversation that was had. Apparently, I was hungry, and started listing restaurants I’d want to eat at when we were finished. What I remember is yelling, “THANK YOU!” to the staff as I was being wheeled out of the operating room and back to recovery despite assurances from the nurse that the doctor would visit me shortly, and I could tell him then. He did, and I did, and then he said that once I asked about being PUNCTURED, he knew I needed sedation. Ya think? Nate said later that he was desperately hoping I would be sedated because I was swinging my legs, drumming my fingers, and looked nothing shy of terrified. UPDATE- Just so it’s clear, I LOVED my doctor. I’d go to him again, he was great. The staff was just trying to give me options because they knew I hated IV’s. I’m glad they took the time to discuss it with me, to be honest. I wasn’t being muscled into anything.

So there you have it.

And now, about knitting. For reasons I don’t feel like getting into, but related to the issue affecting my basket, mom’s sleeve that needs to be fixed is wet and drying right now. It needed to be washed, and I figured I’d rather do it before frogging so I could reknit with nice, clean smelling yarn. So that project is on hold. Mari’s poncho is also on hold until I have opportunity to try it on her and determine if I correctly adjusted the pattern. That will happen later this week. I am at an impasse with my WIP’s. I guess I’ll work on Nate’s clogs today, and I’ll post a picture of the groovy basket tomorrow.

Thank you again for your support. You all rock.

Thank you all so much for the well wishes. I am home. I am happy. I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow with some good knitting content, hospital pictures (nothing gross), and what I said that made the doctor balk.