In the curtained area next to mine, I listened to some nurses struggling to get IV lines into a woman whose veins were pretty blown by chemo. There was some discussion about her port and more discussion I couldn't hear. I got the distinct impression that she was in trouble because she was having surgery before her chemo was even finished. Not sure what that means. It certainly put things into perspective. I have been thinking about her a lot even though I didn't get to meet her. I know from my unavoidable eavesdropping that she is only 42 and that she has already had surgery for breast cancer.
The last thing I remembered was the chill of the operating room, the nice feel of the warmed blankets, and the dreadful plastic smell of the mask (or maybe it was the gas?.) I woke up in what seemed like about a minute later. Everything went fine. DH brought me home, made me a little soup, and then I spent the afternoon napping in a drug induced haze. Today I feel pretty good, armed with a little extra strength ibuprofen. I plan to stick close to home, but I have plenty of choices as to how to occupy my time.
I could dive in to one or both of these: