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| Body Transformed 
It is so good to be home! I cannot wait to hug my babies tomorrow. They're staying with family for just one more day so that I can get settled into life away from the hospital. Man, I miss the handy-dandy rails on the side of that hospital bed. I didn't sleep much the night before surgery. I tossed and turned and kept looking at the clock, worrying that we'd oversleep and I'd miss my turn at the scalpel. Finally I just got up and took a shower at about 4:30 a.m. I was glad that Ed got some sleep. I know that he's carrying quite a burden of worry himself. No husband wants to see his wife in pain or to consider a life without her should things not go well. It's on his mind whether he wants to talk about it or not (and he's been clear that he'd rather keep his fears to himself, thank you very much.) We drove to the hospital without trouble, Mom sitting quietly in the back seat. I may be 46 years old, but I'm still her baby girl. She's worried and positive all at the same time. It's no trouble to check in, verify insurance information, and get dressed in the latest in unfashionable hospital gowns. The hospital is very organized, and it's not long until I'm whisked off to a pre-anesthesia waiting area. Saying goodbye to Mom and Ed seems surreal. They're both hiding their fears inside. Gastric bypass has a pretty high mortality rate. Two out of every 100 patients do not survive. After a strong hug and a quick kiss, I'm rolled down the hallway to await my nurse anesthetist. His name is Paco and he's originally from South America. This kind, soft-spoken man gently advises me on the presurgical process explaining that I will be given an IV medication that will help me to relax during the period of time spent waiting for my turn in the OR, followed by a "cocktail" that Paco says will initially make me feel like I've had a couple of really good margaritas, immediately after which I will be totally conked out in order to install a nasal gastric tube down my esophagus and into my stomach. Surgery should take about two hours. Paco is right, the "cocktail" of drugs made my head spin for about two seconds and then I was out like a light. I woke up in a dimly lit room. My mouth was as dry as the desert. I heard a scratchy voice say, "Water." A nurse came over and smiled at me, explaining that I couldn't have water and that I was in the recovery room. She said surgery had gone just fine. She asked if I was in any pain (I wasn't) and then began checking my feet to see if I was getting any feeling back in them. Once I was able to wiggle my toes, flex my feet, and rotate my ankles, I was deemed ready to send to ICU for a couple days of intense nursing care. Mom and Ed were waiting for me in my room when I got there, clearly relieved to see me awake and breathing. Still under the effects of the anesthesia, I was in no pain whatsoever. My belly looked huge (was I 9 months pregnant?) under the thick layer of bandages covering the 10-inch incision that stretched from breastbone to bellybutton. I was so relieved to be through surgery that I found myself laughing and joking with a bewildered mother and husband. I think they thought I should be moaning in pain rather than smiling and feeling OK. The nurse in ICU showed me how to use the morphine pump and warned me to stay ahead of the pain rather than letting it get too bad before pressing the button that would supply a measured dose of painkiller directly in my IV. After about an hour, Ed and Mom decided they should leave so that I could get some rest. A dose of morphine via the pump and I was sleeping deeply. Throughout the evening and all night long I was visited by nurses who checked my vital signs, asked about my pain and made sure I was comfortable. Mostly I just slept.
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The Surgery