Thoughts from the Sickly: A Look at What They Don't Tell You

   Just had my first surgery, ever. Now that the pain as died down and the stitches have settled into my skin, I've found that I can now reflect on what has transpired over the past few days. They ask a lot of question, y'know, when you're having surgery. They repeat themselves and try as hard as they can to cover their own butts in hopes of not getting sued or ruining the lives of the patients in the children's ward. There are a lot of forms and wires and signatures. The actual surgery went well, I was in and out in a small amount of time with no major complications. So I should be thankful, I should be overwhelmed with happiness at the smoothness of it all. But instead, I find myself looking at the things they didn't tell me, the things that aren't on the forms or posters.
1. They don't tell you how quick you will fall asleep. All the medical shows on TV show people counting down and drifting off into a slumber easily controlled by an attractive twenty-something who probably can't sleep "appendix" in real life. But that isn't the case. Or, at least, not for me. I remember being wheeled in and strapped down. But there was no warning or cute counting system telling me that I was about to be out for the next hour. No. It was just there, then not there.
2. They don't tell you how much it's going to hurt -- afterwards. I went into emergency surgery because my appendix needed to be removed. I was in severe pain for four days and would cry anytime I had to move to touch my stomach. They told me that this surgery would fix the problem. That I would be fine and a okay afterwards. But I wasn't. It hurt like crazy. For three days I was not able to stand up or walk without cringing. Suddenly, I had to rely on everyone for everything. If I wanted water, I needed help up. If I wanted to roll over, I needed to brace myself for the pain before I dared turned. My stitches felt like they were pulling, I got dizzy all the time, and my entire body ached. This was supposed to be better? Okay, okay. I know that I shouldn't have expected cloud 9 on my first day, but I was completely unprepared for that next morning, when I woke up to pins and needles.
3. They don't tell you that life goes on. I missed two days of school. I was virtually removed from my life for about four days. And it sucked. Everyone was so helpful, I could tell they truly cared. But their lives were spinning and turning even though I was stuck in bed. They had plans, they went places, they talked and laughed and carried on -- oblivious to my pain, to my wants. Here is my naivety again, I know. But some part of me wanted my world to stop with me. To wait for me to catch up, to hobble to the finish line with it.

"People who think they know everything are a great annoyance to those of us who do."