August 22, 2011
It's here, the big day. I'm neither nervous nor excited. I feel slightly drunk. After the internal cleansing and the clear liquid diet I feel wobbly.
My wife and I set off for Salt Lake. I'm driving. Wait. Now my wife is driving. I feel like sleeping. I don't think they're going to need much anesthesia to put me under. Maybe there was something in the antibacterial soap. Maybe it's the lice. I don't know.
We arrive at St. Mark's hospital and they escort me into a small curtained off room. I change into a luxurious disposable hospital gown. I love it. If I have a good sneeze the gown will disintegrate and I'll be naked. I tell my wife, "no sneezing allowed!" She uses her quietest voice.
The nurse informs me that 'Biker Bob' is going to come in and shave my stomach. His real name is something like, 'Fred' or 'Dave,' but when he walks in he's 'Biker Bob.' He wears a 'doo rag' and looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple of weeks. The irony isn't lost on me. I'm guessing he tells his Harley riding buddies that he operates heavy equipment for a living. He'd be shamed right out of the club if he told them he shaves people prior to surgery. Anyway, he is wearing scrubs and has a name tag, so I assume he's the right guy. And he is. He shaves my stomach bald. Now I really feel naked. But, the lice have lost their home in the forest and I'm grateful.
After the deforestation, it is all a blur. Someone starts an IV in my arm, I say goodbye to my wife and they wheel me away to surgery. I see bright lights and large computer monitors...
I don't know where I am. I want to throw up, but I can't wake up enough to do anything about it. I think my wife is in the room and there's a few other people coming and going. I want them all to be very, very quiet, but they keep talking. I even hear some laughter.
I still have an IV and there's various bags dripping fluid into my body. Also, there's a Morphine pump and I get to push the button to activate it. It's not as great as it sounds. It will only allow me to push it every few minutes. For now, I'm pushing it every five seconds. It does no good, but at least I feel like I'm doing something.
I finally come out of the anesthesia and Morphine haze and realize that I'm not dead. I'm not sure if this is a good thing. I'm in a closet-sized room and my wife and kids are here. Fortunately, the nausea is gone and I actually feel OK. My kids tell me later that I was actually able to carry on a conversation. I don't remember much other than they were in the room. Who knows, maybe I promised them all a new car. A trip to Disney World? I don't want to think about it.
I'm feeling OK as long as I keep hitting the magic Morphine button. It is now late evening. My wife has gone home. I'm now at the mercy of the nurse and her aide. I think the first thing they learn in nursing school is, never let the patient sleep. Never!
I'm in for a fun night, and I don't have the lice to keep me company.
It's here, the big day. I'm neither nervous nor excited. I feel slightly drunk. After the internal cleansing and the clear liquid diet I feel wobbly.
My wife and I set off for Salt Lake. I'm driving. Wait. Now my wife is driving. I feel like sleeping. I don't think they're going to need much anesthesia to put me under. Maybe there was something in the antibacterial soap. Maybe it's the lice. I don't know.
We arrive at St. Mark's hospital and they escort me into a small curtained off room. I change into a luxurious disposable hospital gown. I love it. If I have a good sneeze the gown will disintegrate and I'll be naked. I tell my wife, "no sneezing allowed!" She uses her quietest voice.
The nurse informs me that 'Biker Bob' is going to come in and shave my stomach. His real name is something like, 'Fred' or 'Dave,' but when he walks in he's 'Biker Bob.' He wears a 'doo rag' and looks like he hasn't shaved in a couple of weeks. The irony isn't lost on me. I'm guessing he tells his Harley riding buddies that he operates heavy equipment for a living. He'd be shamed right out of the club if he told them he shaves people prior to surgery. Anyway, he is wearing scrubs and has a name tag, so I assume he's the right guy. And he is. He shaves my stomach bald. Now I really feel naked. But, the lice have lost their home in the forest and I'm grateful.
After the deforestation, it is all a blur. Someone starts an IV in my arm, I say goodbye to my wife and they wheel me away to surgery. I see bright lights and large computer monitors...
I don't know where I am. I want to throw up, but I can't wake up enough to do anything about it. I think my wife is in the room and there's a few other people coming and going. I want them all to be very, very quiet, but they keep talking. I even hear some laughter.
I still have an IV and there's various bags dripping fluid into my body. Also, there's a Morphine pump and I get to push the button to activate it. It's not as great as it sounds. It will only allow me to push it every few minutes. For now, I'm pushing it every five seconds. It does no good, but at least I feel like I'm doing something.
I finally come out of the anesthesia and Morphine haze and realize that I'm not dead. I'm not sure if this is a good thing. I'm in a closet-sized room and my wife and kids are here. Fortunately, the nausea is gone and I actually feel OK. My kids tell me later that I was actually able to carry on a conversation. I don't remember much other than they were in the room. Who knows, maybe I promised them all a new car. A trip to Disney World? I don't want to think about it.
I'm feeling OK as long as I keep hitting the magic Morphine button. It is now late evening. My wife has gone home. I'm now at the mercy of the nurse and her aide. I think the first thing they learn in nursing school is, never let the patient sleep. Never!
I'm in for a fun night, and I don't have the lice to keep me company.
hahaha you make me laugh...can't wait to read more :)
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