The making of a cyborg (part 1)

It's been a while since I posted, and much has happened. I'm a cyborg! Yes, I've joined the Borg (you can call me 2 of 3). What is a cyborg? It's short for "cybernetic organism," which is a being with both organic and cybernetic parts
My surgery was originally scheduled for June, but I postponed two weeks so I could have the latest technology, the mid scala electrode. I'm one of the first in Atlanta to get this technology, which has been available in Europe for a while. Having "the latest" positions me for the best possible outcome with my cochlear implant. So, on July 3, I was implanted!
I started the day by checking in with admissions. This had me so discombobulated! Look at the grammar error on this sign:

Really? Go pass?

As a teacher, that was a toughie to get over. I am writing to Northside Hospital this week. Anyway...my preop nurses were wonderful. They gave me a relatively painless IV and a darling gown (with matching socks) to change into. When I've had surgery in the past, the gown didn't match the socks...but I was in Dunwoody, after all. After a bit, I was wheeled into the OR, asked to scootch over to the operating table, and take a deep breath. That's all I remember.
I awoke a bit later in a cozy room. The goal was for me to walk, pee, and eat before I could leave. After accomplishing all of this--plus throwing up  (yay me!), I dressed and was soon departing--just in time for rush hour Atlanta traffic (in.the.rain). Just a short 1.5 hrs later (to go 30 miles), I was home. But on the way home, Matt called--he was coming for the long weekend! I convinced myself it was just to see about me...what a swell kid!

Steve got me settled in my bed and then ran out to get my pain pills...the pain shot I got before leaving the hospital wouldn't be lasting long, so I encouraged him to hurry. He did. The man doesn't mess around with my pain pills. When he came back with them, he inadvertently left the dog gate opened...so Phoebe came to see about me. Did I mention it as raining? @wetdoginmybed!

There is a large wet dog in my bed.

The rest of the day was a blur; I remember chicken soup and drugs...and drug induced sleep. Steve made sure my phone was close at hand so I could text if I needed anything (funny story coming in a bit about that).

Festive for the 4th

The next day was the 4th. It's good to be deaf when crazy people all around you insist on shooting off firecrackers all day. Scott was at camp, but Stephen and Rose came over (with flowers), and Matt was there for dinner. I didn't do anything except look up a recipe for Matt. They fixed a feast! One side effect of CI surgery: your taste buds get all screwy. What I expected to be awesome was only awesome to the other people...to me it was pretty bleh.
The next day, my mom and dad came over to visit. They brought dinner-yay mom and dad! Over the course of the next few days, several neighbors and friends dropped in with food. I realized it's imperative that I do better at bringing people food when they are sick/recovering/whatever. Nothing says "I care about you" like food in the fridge! I am blessed!

Over the next few days, I pretty much stayed in the bed or on the couch. I still needed pain pills and wasn't really up to fixing my own food. On Sunday afternoon I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. Some of my friends on my hearing forum were feeling great at 4 days post op. Not me. I was puny. And on Sunday I was hungry. I texted Steve. Nothing. So, I picked up the phone and dialed. When I saw (remember, I can't hear the phone ringing) that the call had been picked up, I gave my poor, pitiful me message: "Hi...I hope you can hear me because I can't hear you....but there's a very hungry deaf person at the other end of the phone and I'd really like some food. Please. Ok, bye." As I hung up, I glanced at the phone and realized I'd dialed the wrong number.