Are You There, Percocet? It's Me, Sarah.

All went well with the d and c. We even got into the operating room ahead of schedule, by some miracle, and the most (physically) uncomfortable part of the whole ordeal was the IV placement and blood taking. In the end I opted for heavy sedation rather than general anesthesia, thanks in no small part to my pre-op nurse, who, upon hearing my offhand comment that I was feeling a little tense, replied, "Well, sure! I would be too, if they were going to put me under! I mean, when you're a nurse, when you know the things we know..." And then she SHOOK HER HEAD GRIMLY! Way to instill confidence in the medical process, Nurse Ratchet.

Let me just say, though, that was SOME heavy sedation. I remember absolutely nothing beyond my questioning the nurse, "Is that stuff in the IV going in already? I feel a little weird..." The next thing I knew I was back in my room, and abruptly began sobbing when I remembered what I had just woken up from. Then the nurse arrived, and I stopped crying, had some toast and Sprite, and slowly began to feel normal again.

Actually, I am now feeling remarkably cheerful, thanks to many little graces, not the least of which, I am sure, is the cocktail of pharmaceuticals currently in my veins.

Firstly, a massage gift certificate, complete with an offer for babysitting, from my perfect, thoughtful friend Jess (and completely incidentally, I have in my lifetime had THREE best friends named Jessica. I now tend to instinctively trust that someone named Jessica will be thoughtful and funny and loyal. Thoughts?)

Secondly, the fact that my house is pretty darn clean despite the flurry of the last few days. This is because my SIL and, of course, Jess, took turns babysitting my kids pretty much all day Wednesday so that I could get the pre-party scrubbing and fussing over and done with before the procedure. My mom offered to do it FOR me, but I quickly reminded her that I much prefer to do my own cleaning. Also, for me, there is no better therapy for conflicted emotions and frayed nerves than the smell of cleaning products wafting through my house.

Thirdly, my mom and MIL. Our family, I think, could not survive without them. My mom picked the kids up around ten this morning, and until about seven o' clock tonight, which is when I finally woke up and felt normal again, I could relax and trust that they were happy and cared for. They even got baths! And when I DID awake, and stumble out of my room to get hugs and kisses from my babies, there was waiting for me a perfect chicken casserole from my MIL, the kind with Velveeta, cream of mushroom, and French's onions baked to a crisp on top. This isn't always my kind of thing, but when you're feeling wobbly and pathetic, there are few things more comforting than a good casserole. Er, hotdish. Sorry, Tessie.