Sunday, May 8, 2011

It's Alive

On April 1, 2008, I documented my experience twelve hours after having an Aneurysmal Bone Cyst removed from my foot (or ABC... WTF???). It was something that just randomly starting growing in my foot, (which was originally diagnosed as Tendonitis, which I attributed to too much ass-kicking). In the MRI, it looks sort of like a coral reef where the bone should be. It was my first surgery ever, and hopefully my last. Although it was not as traumatic as I worried it might be, I thought maybe historian's would want to read about my thoughts before, during and after. I felt fine, but maybe my words show how heavily drugged I really was? Decide for yourself after reading... It's Alive!


If I died during my surgery, then I am writing this as a disembodied spirit... and how cool is that! On the other hand, it means that I am roaming the earth with some unfinished task, or I am in hell, which looks a lot like the real world.

Since it seems I am alive, I thought I would document my experience this morning, instead of repeating myself over and over. Oh, that's right... not everyone reads my blogs, so I'll have to repeat this story over and over anyway.

I discovered last night that I have an addiction... to water. I was almost going into cold sweats after midnight when I was told I couldn't eat or drink anything until after my surgery. There is nothing worse than someone telling you to not do something. My inner child was throwing a tantrum. I would have screamed, but my mouth was way too dry.

Since I worked last night, I didn't sleep and went online to search out some much needed porn to help create valuable drool that my dry mouth needed due to the absence
of water. I also needed the distraction to not think about someone hacking into my foot in a few hours, and something to keep me awake so I wouldn't need much anesthesia to put me to sleep, if any.

Reluctantly, I left at 5:30am with my woman and my parents (who drove all the way from Indiana to hang out with me this week to listen to me complain... what are parents for?).

It is important to note that the zoo is right next to the hospital. I had imag
es of my parents dropping me off at the wrong one, or simply returning to the zoo for a replacement for me if anything went wrong.

At 6:00am, we arrived, (at the hospital, not the zoo... I think). Twenty minutes later, they called me back and let me take ONE other person with me. After much finger pointing from everyone, my mom went back with me. Is it that she stepped forward, or did the other two simply step back?

They lead us to the prep room, where they told me to remove all my clothes and put on this
unbelievably fashionable green gown. I did ask if I could keep on my underwear, and she assured me that I could because my Talus bone (the one about to be operated on), was not there. At least I could have some dignity... until they put on the silver fluorescent night cap. At that point, I was very eager for some good drugs.

But, I was denied the drugs, and simply had to wait... and wait... and
freakin' wait! I began to think this was an elaborate April Fools joke, (oh like you wouldn't laugh your ass off seeing me dressed like that!). Fortunately, my mom was very helpful at passing the time, since she is the best talker in the world. She could go on endlessly for 30 minutes about a piece of lint she found in her laundry.

HOUR AND A HALF LATER, someone finally showed up! They asked me a series of questions, and wrote down a bunch of things... and then 30 seconds later, someone else showed up, and they asked me a series of questions... wait, didn't the other nurse just ask me that? Then 2 minutes later, someone ELSE showed up and asked me a series of questions... the SAME freakin' questions! Was this a test??

Were they waiting for me to screw up?? I was ready to just write it all out and point to the answers. Maybe in the future, scientists will develop some type of 'chart' technology, where they write everything out so anyone can read it.

During all these questions, one nurse chose to start jabbing me in the arm with a sharp needle. Was this finally the good drugs I've been so desperately waiting for?? Alas... no, only some antibiotic.

Then, it seems they decided to ignore me again. So, we waited, and waited... and waited...
Then they told me I could have my other visitors come in to see me if they wanted to. So, my mom went and got them. I told them I was still painfully very coherent.

My nervousness became frustration as I continued to wait for SOMETHING to
start happening, (would it be wrong to say I was 'im-patient'?).

Finally, someone came in to wheel me back to surgery. *gulp*

I arrived in the operating room with two giant big screen tv's each displaying my heartbeat and other fancy information about me. As I watched all the bodies frantically preparing everything around me, I realized something very important... this day was all about me! Wait... is that country music they're playing??? NOOOOOOOO!!

Then someone shoved a gas mask over my mouth and nose, telling me it was some oxygen, and to breathe deep. Two breaths later, I was out like a light. You would think I would notice someone taking a knife and hacking deeply into ankle bone, but I slept through the whole thing. I know I dreamed, but I can't remember. Maybe I was dreaming about someone hacking i
nto the bone of my ankle.

I was woken by a nurse telling me it was all over. It felt like nothing. No, really, I mean it. I sat up and watched all the other nurses, and patients laying around in the post-op room. I felt very talkative actually. I began to try to have a conversation with everyone passing by bec
ause... it was OVER!

Apparently they even shoved a tube down my throat, (oh, not while I was trying to talk, b
ut during the surgery), and yes it felt a bit scratchy, but I was fine. I couldn't help feel a bit awkward when I realized none of the other recovering patients were talking. I then thought, maybe I should just shut the hell up.

By 2pm, I was home, and in bed. But I wasn't really tired. For those looking to 'score', the prescription I was given, is "Lortab"... sorry. I was originally promised Percocet.

I'm home, hobbling around on crutches for now, and other than feeling like my entire foot is encased in concrete, I feel like nothing happened.

For those with the foot fetish, my doctor plans to unwrap me in a couple weeks, then I get to wear my big S/M boot.

Trust me, you'll understand when you see.