We arrived at MGH and I changed into my "johnny" (aka sick people clothes). I was wheeled down to a bed in a basement with the other people awaiting surgery. I waited for awhile and was visited by a few people who asked me questions. Here's the weird part. I remember when they started to wheel my bed to the operating room. I remember the hallway, then, "Mr. Shull, your surgery is over." Just like that. It was jarring and freaky. They asked me if I was in any pain. I remember saying, "My foot! My foot!" Oh my God, my foot was killing me. It was horrible pain. OK. ok. What the what? They break your face into pieces and you yell, "My foot!" Well, apparently my foot was pressed up against something during surgery for 7 hours. My foot hurt more than my jaw for the next few days.
Here's what I remember of post surgery:
- A very nice nurse taking good care of me.
- Getting very nauseous from the anesthesia. Vomiting lots of blood. No, reader. I really need you to stop and picture it. Don't pull any of that romantic Twilight erotic bloody-thirsty crap either. Don't picture me as Robert Pattinson (I know. It's hard. Try.)
- They told me I had visitors, but I didn't want to see anyone. I was freaked out, bloody, and nauseous. They told me they were going to let one in anyway. (Ok. here's where you just have to know that some nurses just know best. )
- Jeff brought me a bunch of balloons and presents. (Which they did not let him leave with me.) I had pre-recorded messages on my phone in my own voice which was really nice way to communicate.
Here's me right after surgery. See if you can spot me among my crazy-eyed friends.
I look so terrified in that picture. If it helps, I took it myself. I look so crazy – the earrings, necklace, the red dress...
They took me up to ICU because of my apnea. They wanted close monitoring of my breathing.