Post-Op-ing Like a Boss

So here we are, a patched up belly later and some funny adventures from a French hospital. As usual, I’m doing fine; this morning I was begging to be drugged up and would repeat the dosages of medication that my host mom told me but double them under my breath. However, I’m doing better and better and sticking my tongue out and groaning in a sign of distress less often. Good sign!

                  I asked to either get a cool light in the middle of my chest like Iron Man or a sick tattoo while I was knocked out, just to take advantage of the anesthesia, but they said, “non.” (Kiana, Jasmine, Devyn…)

Here’s what actually happened:

                  I went in at 8:45am yesterday morning, got in my stylish hospital outfit, waited with my host mom, and was wheeled into my operating room. But get this: while the four doctors were preparing the room, they were all around me talking about the last episode of House. Like any normal person, I was freaking out inside and said, “hold up, you guys know how stereotypical this is?!” (In French, of course) and they all laughed. Besides having the anesthesiologist peer over my head and say, “mademoiselle!!!” rather comically before putting on the oxygen mask, I don’t remember much.

                  

When I woke up I tried speaking French but rather than my brain not working, my mouth couldn’t actually form the words so after saying two or three things the doctors just smiled and nodded…

My host mom, host dad, and friend, Eamon, an exchange student from Canada, came to visit me and I feel so grateful to have had such good company. In between visits and texts from friends I slept and left at 3pm. The actual act of getting up from the gurney was painful but incredibly weird because I had no abdominal muscles to aid me. The only way I can describe how I felt was a mix between a small child, an old woman, and a robot; so basically, if what I looked like reflected how I felt, I’d be like E.T. (robot, alien, just go with it.)

I also want to let all of you know that the next time you complain of having a bad hair day, just know that there’s nothing worse than surgery hair.

Even though I’ll be missing out on a trip to Cassis, France, the best day at school where everyone dresses up, my friend’s last basketball game, and hanging out with friends, I’m being very well cared for by my host parents and I’m honestly too tired to do much. Almost every time my host mom gets off the phone she tells me that so-and-so wishes me a quick recovery and gave me bisous, especially my buddy, Mario.

Thus concludes my little update and thank you for all the emails and good thoughts!

Bisous,

Maggie