You want me to do what?

Two nights ago was the biggest moment since surgery: it was time to remove the on-Q pain pump out of my body. Yes, I, me, Heather was going to pull not one, but two, foreign bodies out of my chest (okay, not really my chest, it was more like my abdomen, but still equally as traumatizing). When my surgeon told me I had to do this, I gave him the death stare. You want me to do what? He told me it was no big deal at all and completely painless. Uh huh. 

Now, I'm pretty good at handling pain most of the time. I have sat through an array of tattoos and body piercings; having blood taken doesn't bother me; go ahead and shove an IV into my veins. You want to know what they all have in common? I'm not the one doing these things to myself. Other than tweezing my eyebrows, I have never been able to inflict pain upon myself on purpose. Nope. Nada. Never.

The nurse sent me home with some handy instructions and reassured me that this was going to be a breeze. Fast forward to Monday night. The pump was completely empty and ready to be removed. I was feeling amped. I got this. Let's do this! My sister grabbed my cell phone, turned the recorder on and we were about to make magic happen. 

First, I begin to slowly peel back the bandage, tape and dressing. It's like I'm opening a present on Christmas morning because I can barely contain my excitement. I really wasn't prepared for what was underneath. This shit looked gnarly. Actually, that doesn't even begin to describe it, but I'll save you the graphic details. You're welcome.

Now I'm staring at the two catheters that need to come out. Literally within 30 seconds of me trying to pull the first one out, I became light headed and nauseous. My sister called for my brother and his girlfriend, who were already laying in bed. So, Rebecca accepts the challenge and bravely goes in. Within one tug, I was done. Over it. I'm going to the hospital. I also completely ruined their evening. 

Heather-sweatz: Mood Killer.

So, in the most dramatic fashion I head on over to the ER. Can I just say that the dullest humans in the world work the front desk. I'm feeling pretty good, other than this shit hanging out of me, but I'm in no pain. So, I'm just being my lighthearted self. No reaction - crickets all around. Bitches. Anyway, once I was brought back and laid down on the least comfortable stretcher ever, the nurse (who did have an epic personality actually) was able to pull these things out of me within seconds. 

Showoff. 

She did totally understand what I was saying about it being completely unnatural and gross to pull some crazy tubing out of your own body. Finally, someone in the medical profession who wasn't lying to me, and reassuring me that it was no big deal. If I was into that sort of thing, don't you think I would have gone into med school or something? I do payroll. C'mon son.

Starting weight: 273.4

Last weight in: 249.8

Height: 5'8"

Surgeon's goal: 180

Personal goal: 160