First of all, I just want to say (while I remember), that there is nothing so cozy, nothing so comforting, nothing so ‘safe’ as the feel of my husband’s big hand on top of my head. It has carried me thru all sorts of crisis and non-crisis alike. And the only thing better than that, is when he is also praying out loud for me while he’s got his big ol’ hand on my head. I hope he is around for awhile. I don’t think there’s another hand out there that could fit my greasy head like his does.
Ok, so my field trip to the UT Medial Blasting Zone was, um, entertaining. I guess it would have been fun except for ‘pain’ was involved. And any sort of pain, in any form, negates any level of potential fun.
So first thing I saw (as I checked in late) was a lady in an orange jumper, complete with handcuffs and ankle chains, escorted by a policemen filling out paperwork. I wondered at my chances of getting her as a roommate, but as it turned out, I didn’t get a roommate. That would have undoubtedly made things more interesting.
I got checked in and then after an x-ray (done by three overly chipper blonde girls who must’ve been 13 and 14), I made my way up to the surgery room. Room. Ha. It was a little cave in the wall with a curtain pulled across the front. The whole hall was full of other little caves. Most of them had their curtains open. I kept mine all the way closed. The nurse told me to put on a ridiculous purple gown and then when I was halfway thru changing she flung open the curtain of my cave and asked some dumb question. Unpleasant.
She was nice enough to come back when I was fully concealed in the ridiculous purple gown and then she asked a billion questions.
“Hello again…. Mrs. Ug-sha-wishuh?”
Do you smoke? Do you have a tumor? How many cats do have? What’s the square root of thirty six? Are you able to stand on your head? And so forth. My answers were ‘no’ to all, and happily, my husband did not contradict me when she asked if I had a history of mental problems.
Then she asked if I had any fears or anxieties over the surgery. And I told her “Yes, actually, I do”. Which is the truth. Anything hospital related gives me a beastly fright. She looked concerned but I assured her that they were all unfounded and unreasonable.
Then she asked, “Well how do you cope with your anxiety, is there anything you’re able to do to pull you thru stressful situations?” So I told her, “Yeah, I panic. That’s my approach to pretty much anything scary”. And she said, “ha. ha. ha.” and left.
The next thing I knew a creepy guy with a white coat, decorated with sharp shiny needles, came shuffling and hobbling over holding up a large spike filled with smoking, bubbling yellow liquid.
“Are you Jenefer Eshu-ee-mushga?”
Then he aimed that spike at my IV. Panic struck, I asked him, “Uh…. What the heck is that?”
And he replied, “bwwaaaaa ha ha ha ha hee hee heee… you will likey. All people in hospital bed likey likey”
And then he squirted that stuff right into my IV tube and the next thing I knew – to my horror—I started giggling like a loon.
Then suddenly, I opened my eyes and I was in this weird circular room with about six men in their separate beds wearing ridiculous purple gowns. Half were sleeping but the ‘awake half’ were all staring blankly at one another. I realized I was staring, too. And then I started shaking. Hard. Like I was afraid I was going to shake myself right off the bed, and a nurse came over and stared at me and started talking to me about the Olympics. I’m almost positively sure that happened. And then she signaled for Igor and he shuffled over and started poking around with my IV again.
Sometime later I woke up again in that weird circular room; I think there were new ‘blankly staring’ guys but I can only remember one very large and hairy man who was directly across from me who had his mouth wide open and he was snoring. His ridiculous purple gown did not fully fit.
I was suddenly struck with a dreadful thirst. So the Olympics nurse came over and I told her, “Could you pl—what in the wor–? How come I can’t talk?” and she told me, “You had a tube down your throat; it’ll probably smart for a day or so”.
So I rasped, “Please get me some water” and she told me, “No”.
No? What do you mean no? So I repeated, “Please get me some water, I’m really thirsty”
And she said, “No. You can’t have any water. It’ll make you sick”.
You can’t imagine how thirsty I was. And then she started to walk off and I began to panic. “Hey,” I rasped, “Then get me some ice, ok?” and she turned around and real sing-songy like she snickered, “Ummmmmm, ICE… is… *WA-TER*”. Smart alek. So then I got mad and I told her, “Oh yeah?!! Well that’s what they give you when you’re in labor!!!!!!!!”
Thinking back on it, that isn’t as cuttingly clever and triumphant as I thought it was at the time. None-the-less, she came back at some point with a cup of ice a little flat popsicle stick to eat it with.
Then all of a sudden I was in a new room with a TV, and Little House on the Prairie was on. Mr. Edwards was singing about a frying pan and brushing his teeth with a wagon wheel. That was a very irritating way to wake up. And then minutes later Geoff the Great was shown in and he asked me, “Uhhhh, are you watching that or can I put on FOX news?” Which was sort of funny but I think I got offended.
And then a new nurse came in. I think. And I sat up a bit and GREAT JEHOSAPHAT, I felt like somebody harpooned me straight thru the side. YEEEOUCH. I asked the nurse if it was supposed to hurt that bad, and she told me, yes, in my case, it would. But then she told me she’d get something for the pain, and at that point I was hoping to see my little buddy Igor again. That guy and his magical needle was starting to grow on me. But nope, she just came back with a big white horse pill.
Then Geoff the Great said that the doctor told him that they put me on the machine and ended up cranking it to the highest possible level and my bowling ball refused to crack. I’m sorta proud of the little fella. The dr. said they gave it all they got but he didn’t think he was able to break it up enough. The rock was too hard. SO, not only will I have some ‘minor discomfort’ (minor. Ha), but he said I will have to come back soon and undergo the exceedingly horrifically unthinkably unpleasant option number 2.
Plus, as a bonus, soon after being wheeled into the Little House on the Prairie room, I realized that I had lost an important body function vital for survival. Alarming. The nurse was able to help (and I use the term ‘help’ loosely) by use of a long tube and a pouch. Ok… GROSS and YEEEOUCH. They said I would have to stay until my body started working again, but nope, my rebellious body refused to corporate. But it was not practical for me to spend the night, so they ended up reluctantly giving me and Geoff and quick EMT lesson and sending us home with that diabolical tube and pouch “to use if needed”. They told me to either do that or go into the Emergency Room if my body still wouldn’t to what it was told.
I’m happy to report, as of this morning, my body has begrudgingly begun to cooperate again. We had stopped at a health food store on the way home yesterday and I was able to remember a concoction that my sister once used to cure me of kidney / bladder issues and it seems to be doing the trick again.
So there you have it. More info than you wanted or needed. It will be fun to read this tomorrow because I’m writing this shortly after my breakfast of hot tea and a big hearty bowl of Vicodin Flakes. And I don’t know when I’m supposed to go in for option number 2.
I am very tired. The End.