Back to my usual tricks...

So I am woken by my grandmother at about 5:30 in the morning. She has graciously agreed come and stay with me while I am recovering (about ten days). Normally, I never eat breakfast, but for some reason I am particularly hungry this morning, which is ironic since I am not allowed to eat or drink. I decide to avoid the kitchen like the plague. We (me, my grandma and my mother) pack our things and head towards Alameda Hospital, a change from Kaiser Oakland, my usual romping grounds.
We arrive around 6:00 and check in. We are directed to the waiting rooms, where I am promptly instructed to strip naked and put on a gown. I feel extremely uncomfortable without any underwear, but it is necessary that I am completely bare, save my gown. I spend about an hour having my blood pressure and temperature talking and meeting with the various doctors and anesthesiologists. I am forced to repeat my allergies and essentially my entire medical history. By the end, I never want to hear the words "amoxicillin" again. Finally at about 7:30, things get rolling. My I.V is inserted, and I am wheeled down to the O.R.
I am greeted by yet another doctor who not only wants to know my allergies but has apparently mistaken my fused spine for paraplegia. After clearing everything up I am wheeled into the O.R. I am lifted from my gurney on to the operating table. A mask is promptly put on to my face. I asked it was the anesthesia, to which the nurse replied that it was only oxygen. "It's like cooking. You gotta mix different ingredients and then you taste it to see if it needs more garlic." The last thing I remember hearing is "We're adding the garlic now" and I was out. Waking up from surgery is really the hardest part of the surgery. I am stuck in recovery room one all by myself, and incredibly groggy and I don't remember much of this time period except for the doctors talking about the temperature I had during the surgery. 45 minutes later I am finally awake enough to be moved in another recovery room where I am finally allowed to see my family. My mother observes that I am not swollen or bruised very much. I now have two ice bags on the side of my face. I have a lucky stuffed German Shepherd creatively named "Wolfy"(I was eight, ok?) I always take into my surgeries. During my surgery, the doctors put a hospital bracelet and a surgical mask on him, which my mother finds absolutely hysterical. I was also allowed to keep my upper widom teeth, but the bottom teeth were removed in pieces, so they were too broken to save. After drinking some water, having my I.V out, and choking down some Tylenol with codeine (even though I am hardly sore), I drag myself into a wheelchair, and am wheeled to the car, and we head home.
The codeine is making me a little nauseous, and I am extremeley tired, so after sending a quick text to a very concerned friend of mine, I fall asleep and drift in and out of sleep, waking occasionally to adjust my ice, eat some applesauce, or drink some water, which has become a task since I am not allowed to use a straw. Around 8, I feel awake enough to check my email and various social networking sites. All the well wishes and concerned friends of mine make me feel incredibly loved and appriciated, and I wonder what I have done to deserve such love. I begin to watch "What Happens In Vegas" but I get too tired to finish it, and I fall asleep halfway through the movie, glad that the hardest part of the coming weeks has come to an end.