Just as after her last surgery, Meghan’s first feelings coming up from the anesthesia were of excruciating pain and cold. Her body felt like she’d survived a stabbing, and the nausea was threatening to take over. Dr. Benson was walking through Recovery and saw her moving. He walked over just as she dry heaved.

He motioned over the nurse, ordering more pain meds and Zofran. “Easy there, Meghan. We’ll have you under control in just a moment.” He pushed the meds into her IV as soon as the nurse returned with them. He readjusted the oxygen cannula in her nose and glanced at the readings on the monitor she was hooked up to. Her blood pressure was still pretty low, but he could tell the pain meds were helping, as her heart rate slowed down to a more normal rate.

The nurse brought over warm blankets, and he helped her drape Meghan in warmth. Her lower lip stopped quivering as she became more comfortable, he noted with satisfaction. He sometimes found it more pleasurable to help a patient over the first few minutes coming out of the anesthesia than caring for them during their operation.

Meghan fell back asleep for a few minutes before rousing again. The nurse brought over a cup of ice and gave a piece to Meghan so she could suck on it. The cold ice felt wonderful to her sore throat, and she went through several pieces before falling asleep again.

She awakened again at the light touch on her shoulder. Mitch and Kelsey stood beside her gurney. “Hey there, sleepyhead! How are you feeling?” Out of habit, he looked up at the monitors to see what her vital signs were. He was a little concerned about her low blood pressure, but otherwise, they were within normal range.

“Like the victim in Psycho,” she weakly joked. “Stabbed all over, and my throat is raw.” Mitch picked up the cup of ice and fed her a couple of pieces, which she eagerly sucked on.

“I’ve kept Cherie informed, and we chatted in person for a couple of minutes this morning, not long after they took you to the OR.”

“Thanks,” Meghan said softly. Kelsey smiled softly and stroked her hair. “Still sleepy, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Mitch and Kelsey stayed with Meghan, chatting when she was awake and otherwise watching her sleep. An hour later, techs came to get her, wheeling her gurney up to the third floor, GYN surgery unit. Meghan lucked out with Room 311, which was a private room. The techs helped get her situated into her hospital bed, wished her luck, and left with the gurney.

A nurse and a tech breezed into the room. “Hello, Miss Meghan. I’m Joanna and this is Becca. We’ll be taking good care of you today. How is your pain right now?”

Meghan yawned. “Probably a 4.” Becca busied herself with hooking Meghan back up to the monitoring equipment. Joanna conducted a quick exam, peeking at the surgical dressings, and checking on the Foley catheter that had been inserted after Meghan had been put under the anesthesia. She recorded the output on Meghan’s chart.

“Becca, you might empty the bag before you leave.” Becca nodded and went to grab gloves and a urinal to drain the bag into.

Mitch and Kelsey visited later that afternoon. Kelsey had to promise to visit with the nurses on duty in order to get to her sister’s room, which Mitch found amusing.

“Whew! Now I know what celebrities must go through just to get to a restaurant,” she laughed. Kelsey sat down in a chair beside her sister’s bed. “How are you feeling, Meghan?”

“Still really tired,” Meghan replied, weakly. She raised her hand to touch the one Kelsey had rested on the bed rails. “They’re being really nice to me here.”

Kelsey smiled. “Well, they better! I’m sure I’ll have something to say to someone if they aren’t!”

Joanna entered the room, carrying another bag of IV fluids and medication. “Well, hi there, Kelsey. Is Meghan a family member of yours?”

“My sister,” Kelsey offered. “What have you got there?”

Joanna busied herself with removing the old IV bags and hanging the new fluids, connecting them to the pump. “Some more Normal Saline, and IV Rocephin. Orders are to continue the antibiotics through tomorrow.” She checked on a few things, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Meghan dozed on and off during the visit and would have completely turned down her food tray if Mitch and Kelsey hadn’t cajoled her to eat some of the items on the tray. It was just liquids for her first meal.

The biggest issue was pain control. Meghan, having been poked full of holes for the scopes and sliced open along her pubic hairline, had had a lot of nerve endings cut, and they all kept her in a lot of pain and unable to find a comfortable position that wasn’t flat on her back, which her back also didn’t like. Mitch had conferred with both Dr. Meyers and Dr. Gilbert, the on-call for the evening, and they set Meghan up with a PCA pump for morphine. The pump allowed Meghan to administer pain meds while keeping the dosage received each time small and spaced out automatically. After an hour of use, Meghan was finally getting relief.

Mitch could sense that Kelsey would happily stay with her sister all night, but he knew his wife was getting tired and needed to be going home soon. Too bad I can’t be in both places at once, he thought ruefully. He’d be happy to stay at Meghan’s bedside as well but knew where his primary responsibility lay.

“Kelsey, I think we need to be heading home. You’re beat, and I think some dinner is in order here. My stomach’s gnawing on my backbone.” He stretched and stood.

Kelsey looked at him and reluctantly stood. “You’re right, hon. Meghan, we’re just a phone call away if you need something. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Meghan shifted a bit in the bed and gave a small smile. “I know, sis. You’d better take Mitch to dinner. We can’t let the hunger monsters win.”

Kelsey nodded and, reaching down, hugged her sister, mindful of the tubes and wires and her incisions. Mitch said his goodbyes, and they left her room.

That first night was rocky for Meghan, trying to balance sleep with the comings and goings of the nursing staff and her body’s demand for pain control. The staff tried to do their best to not disturb her as much as possible, but she was a patient within the first 24 hours post-surgery, so that meant vital signs every 4 hours, plus keeping up with changing IV fluids as they emptied and administering her medications on their independent schedules.

Meghan hadn’t been too happy to learn that the shift utilized rectal temperatures on their patients, but at this point, she’d had so many that she didn’t put up an argument, just rolled over as best she could with the tech’s help and let them do what they needed to do.

The Foley catheter was another matter. It was very uncomfortable, and she constantly felt like she needed to pee. At one point she called for the nurse to check it because her bladder felt like it could burst. The nurse checked it and saw that it had been taped in a bad position and thus wasn’t draining properly. An adjustment was made to how it was taped against Meghan’s inner thigh, and it drained, bringing about relief.

“How long until I can get this thing out?” she asked.

The nurse gave her a sympathetic smile. “Probably in a couple of days, dear.”

Meghan groaned.

Friday morning dawned bright and early. Meghan was awakened again by the delivery of her breakfast tray. The dietician set it on the bedside table and pushed it so Meghan could reach it. More liquids, she sighed. About the only appealing things on it were the jello and the apple juice; the coffee just didn’t appeal to her. I must be sick if I’m not wanting coffee. She reached for the juice, fumbled with the foil top, and took a sip.

She was nursing her Jello when Dr. Meyers came into the room with 3 other residents. “Good morning, Meghan! How is your Jello this morning?”

“Still jiggling,” she replied. She set down her spoon.

“I want to take a peek at your incisions and we can talk about your surgery.” He helped move the bedside table out of the way and pulled down the blankets. He raised her gown to expose all of the bandages. It was the first time Meghan had seen her incisions. The five incisions for the scopes were just held together with steristrips, but the large bikini-line incision had a combination of steristrips and sutures. He carefully palpated around the incision before pulling her gown back over her stomach and the covers back up.

“Your incisions look good. I want to listen to your lungs for a minute.” Another resident helped her sit forward just a bit while Dr. Meyers listened carefully to her lungs, a frown momentarily crossing his face. They helped her settle back in the bed. “Has Respiratory Therapy been by yet?”

She shook her head no. “Not that I’m aware of.”

He smiled reassuringly. “No worries, I’m sure they’ll be in later. Let’s talk about yesterday. Your surgery went well, but as I’m sure you already know, I did need to do an open incision to remove the cyst intact. It was very large,” he stated, holding his hands the approximate size of the cyst to demonstrate its size to her. “I opened it on the surgical tray, and I’m pretty sure it is a dermoid cyst, but I sent it to Pathology just to be safe.”

“So how long will I be here, then?” she wanted to know.

“Plan on 4-5 days,” he warned. “I want to be sure that the open incision is healing nicely, your lungs play nice, and you’re able to get up and about independently. The staff will probably be getting you up later today to the chair and starting doing laps around the ward. Any other questions? How is your pain?”

She glanced at the PCA pump. “This thing has been a life-saver.”

He chuckled. “We’ll keep that for today, and see if we can wean you to a regular pain med schedule tomorrow. Today is a day to let your body rest and reorient itself. I’m off duty after rounds, but feel free to page me if you need something. The nurses know how to get ahold of me.”

They said their goodbyes and left to see another patient. Meghan rearranged her gown and the blankets, getting them situated so that she felt more covered.

A knock on the door sounded, and a mischievous face peeked in. “Here you are!”

“Cherie! And Dave! Get in here, you!” Meghan carefully reached out to her coworkers. Cherie came bustling over and hugged her. Dave sat down the cards and the small stuffed EMS bear he had brought with him. He took her hand and gave it a good squeeze, glancing at the monitor above her out of habit.

“Sit down and tell me about work. I’m missing out on everything!”

Cherie giggled. “What, the long hours babysitting parking lots outside of Starbucks?” she teased.

“C’mon, now is that any way to treat your friend who’s stuck in the hospital?” Meghan replied, affronted.

“It hasn’t really been that exciting unless you think transfers are exciting,” Dave intoned. He pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards.

“Ugh.” Meghan wrinkled her nose. “The only transfers I really enjoy are the long-distance ones.”

“I heard that Bill delivered a baby last week. Three weeks premature, but doing well,” Dave offered.

“Really? Boy or girl?” Meghan struggled to sit up a bit more, then remembered the buttons on the bed. She pressed the one to raise her head.

“Boy. Be careful or you’ll be folded up like a pretzel,” he remarked as her feet started to rise as the head of the bed came up.

Meghan chuckled, then grabbed her stomach and grimaced. “Ow! Hurts to laugh. My belly looks like Swiss cheese from all of the incisions.” She pushed the button for her PCA pump and waited for the meds to kick in.

Cherie and Dave made small talk for about 15 minutes before pagers started going off. “Looks like a car wreck,” Cherie stated, reading the messages coming across. “Gotta go! See you later, Chica!”

Meghan waved as they bustled from her room.