"Chikaramochi!"
(You're) strong!
OK, back from the OB. Standard TMI alterts apply.
Had my mom drive me and drop me off, dressed in a pink polka dot gown they give the mothers going into labor (I guess they only have one kind of gown), got situated on the OR table, had an i.v. started, got positioned in stirrups and had my legs tied down. It was something right out of a bad porn film if it weren't for the pink polka dot gown. The doctor came in and said hi, the nurse hollered that she was going to give the intravenous barbituate, the ceiling started looking funny, and the next thing I knew the nurse was calling my name and saying that we were all done and that she would carry me on her back to the recovery room bed. Which she did. She was a little taller than me and probably weighed less, so I was pretty impressed, but also kind of dizzy and nauseous. That passed in an hour or so. The dizzy and nauseous, not the impressed with the nurse. She plunked an emesis basin beside my head and told me that if I felt severe pain or anything else the phone was on the other side of my head.
This OB clinic uses designer label duvet covers. When I gave birth to the Pumpkin Princess, I had Etro duvet covers. This time, they were Celine.
While I was in the recovery room, the curtains around me were drawn so I didn't see any faces, but apparently there was a woman there for infertility work, and she went into the same OR I did (I guess they use it for harvesting eggs and stuff). I could hear (through the closed door) the same doctor that did my surgery telling her "your eggs look quite good and I don't see any problems with them. However, your husband's sperm has a high enough count, but there aren't very many of them who swim strong and straight. The sperm score is about 31 and you need at least double that to have a good chance of getting pregnant." So I was thinking, this woman had to go home and tell her husband that his sperm were low scoring, crooked, weak swimmers and that was why they weren't getting pregnant, so of the two of us, I probably had the better chance of 1) having a pleastant after-dinner conversation with my husband 2) bringing home a healthy baby sooner or later.
The "I'm cute and tiny but much stronger than I look" nurse brought me sweet iced tea and peach jello (quite good, made from actual pureed peaches), I got dressed, the doctor removed the gauze tampon and examined me and did another ultrasound to confirm my uterus was devoid of its late occupant, the nurse gave me postop instructions, I called mr. a and we went to lunch. I ate over half of what I ordered, which I guess is pretty good for someone who had been entirely unconscious due to drugs only a few hours ago, and we came home.
I think I will spend the rest of the day catching up on Ugly Betty episodes (Season 1 to you folks in the US) that I've recorded but not got around to watching.
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