Ok. Now the real, less-dramatized story. My parents dropped everything to come up for my surgery. It was nice because we got to spend Easter with them. Monday morning, I kissed my husband and babies good-bye and went under anesthesia. I woke up to people telling me to take a deep breath, tell them my name, etc. They said my surgery went well and that they repaired my umbilical hernia in the process.
Tuesday, I went home.
It was all as routine as that.
I felt that I had just had surgery for the next few days. It was pretty par for the course until the pains started.
I had been having the normal gas pains expected with a laproscopic surgery. Since they don't open you fully up, they inflate you with CO2 gas so that they can see what they're working on. It hurt, but with walking, deep breathing, and my incentive spirometer (a breathing apparatus), they would pass.
My parents had left Wednesday and Mark's parents arrived that night to take over with the kids.
I woke up Friday feeling a little blah. We decided to walk around downtown and I just didn't feel quite right, though I couldn't put my finger on it. Friday afternoon, I talked with my sister on the phone. I was laying down because I had been having those stinkin' gas pains, but walking wasn't helping. They were getting worse and worse and I finally said, "Dani, I need to let you go. I am about to start moaning and screaming from these pains. I won't really scream (I chuckled), but they really do hurt."
Thirty minutes later, Mark was taking me to the hospital because I was screaming with each pain.