After going through our cycle and this time going to egg collection, I just wanted to note down what happened from my point of view.
The day I was scheduled in for surgery, I had slept pretty well the previous night, considering.
I had had my trigger shot at 8pm on Sunday night, spent the whole of Monday at work being fretfully calm and then Tuesday I was raring to go.
I think the worst part of it was the fasting from midnight Monday. I know, first world problems and all.. but when someone tells you you can't eat... suddenly that's all you wanna do. Especially when you're a bit nervous. As it turns out, my operation was delayed due to a Cesarean and the waiting room kept playing ads for bacon.
Hubby was sitting with me in the waiting room until he had to go drop a load at the fertility clinic, then I had to go and see some nurses. They were all very nice, the main one Erin - kept up a light, witty banter. The only part I didn't like was the chat about the newest Kardashian-Jenner... personally I find them boring as hell and not worth keeping up with but I gave a chuckle or two when the nurse said she had put a bet on the new kid's name being either something generic like Jane or something ridiculous like Asparagus.
This nurse seems alarmed by how... hmm, vanilla I am?
I don't want to say boring, but she's like ok no allergies, no major prior surgery, no complications, no intricate vaginal piercings...
I'm sitting there like, Yup. You just wasted a lot of paper.
I kept getting called into tiny rooms for small consultations. One for the initial paper work run through, one to get changed (was surprised I didn't get a hair net or socks?) one to meet the anaesthetist and then one to go into the prep room.
I also got to meet my fertility technician again - he was the one who did the lab tour with us and I recall quite liking him. Very happy, pleasant dude. I have forgotten his name though. Oops.
Tiny nurse Tina was also very nice, Gurney pushing Greg was hilarious - I felt weird being pushed around several wards when I was perfectly able to walk so it was nice to crack jokes about how many blue marks were on the otherwise pristine white roof. I also thanked him for bringing the bed down to my height otherwise I'd have no idea how I was gonna get up there. He said he wouldn't do that to me - very sweet.
The only nurse/medical staff member I didn't seem to gel with was a tall, impossible to read man, maybe of African descent who was very curt with his words and refused to crack a smile even when I flashed my own. This is not me being racist, I have worked with lots of African people before and they've all been lovely and extremely polite and friendy.
This one just grunted at me, when the others said things like 'now I'm going to do (this) in order to (something related to surgery)' he would just shove his hand in my very attractive hospital muu-muu and stab electrodes on me. So yeah, when he's pumping the bed up to transfer height and my boobs are going nuts, I felt a bit uncomfortable. Even answering my own details, like name and date of birth - the eyes he gives me make me feel like I'm failing a test.
Sure, I'm a grown woman but only just. I don't go into theatre often and sure as hell don't mind being coddled or given a dumbed down treatment in order to stop myself stressing out. Hospitals can be scary. Literally everyone else in this hospital was being super sweet to me so this guy stood out like a sore thumb.
I don't know, different strokes and all that I guess. Maybe he's not a people person. Weird place to work though if you hate people. I guess when he comes in they're mostly knocked out? Maybe he doesn't like people smiling at him?
Anyway by now I've been rolled into the theatre room, moved up to transfer board height, awkwardly wriggled onto that bed in my half tied up hospital gown and given an extra pillow. No mints, but that's probably to be expected. I'm vaguely aware my feet are freezing, that the room is massive, and there are some weird machines that may or may not go PING! in the corner.
After that, catheter and..... nothing.
I guess an hour later, I come around and have people checking on me and asking how I'm feeling. My thighs are kinda sore (nerve pain issue) but other than that I don't feel much but super groggy.
Apparently there's an absolute wedge of cotton pad material in between my legs though, but I don't have much bleeding so everyone's happy with that.
As an after thought, I wonder what sort of weird pretzel shapes they manipulated me into while I was out. Probably nothing interesting, I'm guessing there was stirrups or something for that purpose.
I keep being told to breathe, something behind me keeps beeping if I don't breathe deeply enough and it's annoying enough that I do.
My throat is sore from the tube the anaesthetist shoved down there and I'm hankerin' for a feedin'.
After maybe half an hour of de-groggifying myself, and trying not to stare at other patients - there's nothing else in the room to occupy my mind and keep me awake - I'm met by my Ob/Gyn who is a bit warmer to me than usual. I find out how many eggs I scored.
A new nurse helps me up and into my pre-surgery clothes. She finds a missed electrode on my chest and agrees with me that more bras should clip up at the front. I get the wheelchair tour of the ward and get taken to a comfy chair. I promptly get kicked out of this chair for the sake of some older guy and moved to a less comfy chair.. but I don't mind. I also get a four pack of mini sandwiches... egg, salad, corned beef and ham. A cup of tea - just the way I like it (the new nurse also agrees with the way I make tea) and a packet of the most delicious shortbread biscuits I've had in a long time!
I get to walk out myself after a short period - most of which is spent admittedly thinking about how I can score more cookies - and I get to see my lovely husband.
We walk out all giggly and excited. We'd probably do that anyway, we're pretty cute like that.
Later on as I'm preparing for bed I find another electrode.
I had been told beforehand that it may be tender or I could get cramping - much like a period. I slept with a heat pack because I'm a sook but to be honest the pain was much less than a usual period for me, anyway. It may not even have really hurt, I was probably just a bit more sensitive to it because I was basically hyper aware at this stage.
Only having minimal bleeding, I stayed with a pad that night and the next day but found liners more suitable. Tampons are a no-no at this time, along with intercourse and baths/swimming. I also had to begin the pessaries the next day. My poor husband - lost in a lot of this vagina/uterus-related terminology asked me what these were again and I reiterated it the way I did previously on this blog.
Itty bitty capsules that go up your hoo-ha - and like ice cream cake going into an oven it's messy and weird.
I kinda wanted to keep the sticky note that the doc put on my arm with the egg numbers but even as the nurse was tearing it off me - along with several vital forearm hairs I might add) I realised it was a silly thing to keep. Seemed important, but the end result is what really matters.
So even though I had a rather large needle cut through my vaginal walls to suck out my egg-y goodness, the entire procedure wasn't that bad.
The day I was scheduled in for surgery, I had slept pretty well the previous night, considering.
I had had my trigger shot at 8pm on Sunday night, spent the whole of Monday at work being fretfully calm and then Tuesday I was raring to go.
I think the worst part of it was the fasting from midnight Monday. I know, first world problems and all.. but when someone tells you you can't eat... suddenly that's all you wanna do. Especially when you're a bit nervous. As it turns out, my operation was delayed due to a Cesarean and the waiting room kept playing ads for bacon.
Hubby was sitting with me in the waiting room until he had to go drop a load at the fertility clinic, then I had to go and see some nurses. They were all very nice, the main one Erin - kept up a light, witty banter. The only part I didn't like was the chat about the newest Kardashian-Jenner... personally I find them boring as hell and not worth keeping up with but I gave a chuckle or two when the nurse said she had put a bet on the new kid's name being either something generic like Jane or something ridiculous like Asparagus.
This nurse seems alarmed by how... hmm, vanilla I am?
I don't want to say boring, but she's like ok no allergies, no major prior surgery, no complications, no intricate vaginal piercings...
I'm sitting there like, Yup. You just wasted a lot of paper.
I kept getting called into tiny rooms for small consultations. One for the initial paper work run through, one to get changed (was surprised I didn't get a hair net or socks?) one to meet the anaesthetist and then one to go into the prep room.
I also got to meet my fertility technician again - he was the one who did the lab tour with us and I recall quite liking him. Very happy, pleasant dude. I have forgotten his name though. Oops.
Tiny nurse Tina was also very nice, Gurney pushing Greg was hilarious - I felt weird being pushed around several wards when I was perfectly able to walk so it was nice to crack jokes about how many blue marks were on the otherwise pristine white roof. I also thanked him for bringing the bed down to my height otherwise I'd have no idea how I was gonna get up there. He said he wouldn't do that to me - very sweet.
The only nurse/medical staff member I didn't seem to gel with was a tall, impossible to read man, maybe of African descent who was very curt with his words and refused to crack a smile even when I flashed my own. This is not me being racist, I have worked with lots of African people before and they've all been lovely and extremely polite and friendy.
This one just grunted at me, when the others said things like 'now I'm going to do (this) in order to (something related to surgery)' he would just shove his hand in my very attractive hospital muu-muu and stab electrodes on me. So yeah, when he's pumping the bed up to transfer height and my boobs are going nuts, I felt a bit uncomfortable. Even answering my own details, like name and date of birth - the eyes he gives me make me feel like I'm failing a test.
Sure, I'm a grown woman but only just. I don't go into theatre often and sure as hell don't mind being coddled or given a dumbed down treatment in order to stop myself stressing out. Hospitals can be scary. Literally everyone else in this hospital was being super sweet to me so this guy stood out like a sore thumb.
 |
| Please coddle me. I'm all cute and stuff. |
I don't know, different strokes and all that I guess. Maybe he's not a people person. Weird place to work though if you hate people. I guess when he comes in they're mostly knocked out? Maybe he doesn't like people smiling at him?
Anyway by now I've been rolled into the theatre room, moved up to transfer board height, awkwardly wriggled onto that bed in my half tied up hospital gown and given an extra pillow. No mints, but that's probably to be expected. I'm vaguely aware my feet are freezing, that the room is massive, and there are some weird machines that may or may not go PING! in the corner.
After that, catheter and..... nothing.
I guess an hour later, I come around and have people checking on me and asking how I'm feeling. My thighs are kinda sore (nerve pain issue) but other than that I don't feel much but super groggy.
Apparently there's an absolute wedge of cotton pad material in between my legs though, but I don't have much bleeding so everyone's happy with that.
As an after thought, I wonder what sort of weird pretzel shapes they manipulated me into while I was out. Probably nothing interesting, I'm guessing there was stirrups or something for that purpose.
I keep being told to breathe, something behind me keeps beeping if I don't breathe deeply enough and it's annoying enough that I do.
My throat is sore from the tube the anaesthetist shoved down there and I'm hankerin' for a feedin'.
After maybe half an hour of de-groggifying myself, and trying not to stare at other patients - there's nothing else in the room to occupy my mind and keep me awake - I'm met by my Ob/Gyn who is a bit warmer to me than usual. I find out how many eggs I scored.
A new nurse helps me up and into my pre-surgery clothes. She finds a missed electrode on my chest and agrees with me that more bras should clip up at the front. I get the wheelchair tour of the ward and get taken to a comfy chair. I promptly get kicked out of this chair for the sake of some older guy and moved to a less comfy chair.. but I don't mind. I also get a four pack of mini sandwiches... egg, salad, corned beef and ham. A cup of tea - just the way I like it (the new nurse also agrees with the way I make tea) and a packet of the most delicious shortbread biscuits I've had in a long time!I get to walk out myself after a short period - most of which is spent admittedly thinking about how I can score more cookies - and I get to see my lovely husband.
We walk out all giggly and excited. We'd probably do that anyway, we're pretty cute like that.
Later on as I'm preparing for bed I find another electrode.
I had been told beforehand that it may be tender or I could get cramping - much like a period. I slept with a heat pack because I'm a sook but to be honest the pain was much less than a usual period for me, anyway. It may not even have really hurt, I was probably just a bit more sensitive to it because I was basically hyper aware at this stage.
Only having minimal bleeding, I stayed with a pad that night and the next day but found liners more suitable. Tampons are a no-no at this time, along with intercourse and baths/swimming. I also had to begin the pessaries the next day. My poor husband - lost in a lot of this vagina/uterus-related terminology asked me what these were again and I reiterated it the way I did previously on this blog.
Itty bitty capsules that go up your hoo-ha - and like ice cream cake going into an oven it's messy and weird.
I kinda wanted to keep the sticky note that the doc put on my arm with the egg numbers but even as the nurse was tearing it off me - along with several vital forearm hairs I might add) I realised it was a silly thing to keep. Seemed important, but the end result is what really matters.
So even though I had a rather large needle cut through my vaginal walls to suck out my egg-y goodness, the entire procedure wasn't that bad.
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