From the inbox…

Bizarrely, Hallmark doesn't make a "Congratulations, you got your tubes tied!" card. (There may be a niche market here we can exploit.)

So I sent this one instead. I don't really get it either…. - Jess

(23:39:29) Eleanor: I'm working on my latest blog post and I'm reminded of something. Have you ever heard of or used the term "redneck tupperware?"

I love my inbox. It's as random and funny as my friends are. Mind you, even small amounts of random laughter incites minor blood loss right now, but this too shall pass, and the funny is worth it.

So, you ask, how was it? Lemme see. Next to me on the desk is a photo of two Very Angry Fallopian Tubes, both of which are sporting the latest and spiffiest in metallic clamps. (I keep telling them "think of them as fashion accessories, like corsets!" but, as is typical of fallopian tubes, they're ignoring me.)

Oh, wait, that doesn't answer it. Short version: textbook. I'm fine, I'm healing, and I want more soup. (But I have to stand up to get the soup, thus presenting a bit of an issue.) I didn't have a blood sugar crash (hurrah glucose IV!) and my nurses were quite funny ("Date of your last period?" "Now." "Hmm. Guess that pregnancy test is a little redundant then.").

I remember…a heated blanket in the surgical suite. My surgeon walking in and asking if I was ready, and the nurses cracking up when my response was an upraised fist and "Bring it!" The anesthesiologist patting my head gently and saying, "Okay, time to put the anesthesia in your IV—see you in a little while." Waking up in the recovery room and being told I couldn't have any more demerol for another three minutes. Jeff's hands tracing gentle paths on my shoulders, causing me to realize I wasn't in recovery any more. Speaking briefly to Mary on the phone and realizing the slight soreness in my throat was from the intubation. Seeing the clock on the wall and realizing that while only a few minutes had passed in my head, several hours had passed for everyone else.

Ginger ale for the nausea. Unsteadiness when I did my first post-op walk.

Snoring on the way back to Brian and Suzan's.

The thunderstorm outside cooling the air in the guest bedroom and soothing me back to sleep after talking to Danielle.

Waking up sometime this evening and realizing that, at last, this particular journey is finally over. I don't have to worry any more - just periodically change the gauze protecting my navel, wash carefully, and heal up.

Hopefully we'll drive home tomorrow. I plan to celebrate it with codeine and chocolate ice cream. Maybe you should too.