Post-Op Pandemonium

This past Friday I underwent surgery, and although I won’t bore you with the details because I never want this blog to become a “oh poor me, my life is miserable” kind of thing, let’s just say I was sent home bloodied, bandaged and bruised. So naturally I just have to write about it and how I am probably one of the worst post-operative patients ever.

I *Heart* Anesthesia

So this was the first time that I had ever been knocked completely out for a medical procedure. Granted, I have had a few things done medically-speaking, but they were always handled with local anesthesia and something to knock out any pain or discomfort I may feel. But this time it was time to visit drug-induced Sleepsville.

I was perfectly awake when they wheeled me into the operating room and feeling uncomfortable about the IV in my left hand and the fact that I was wearing nothing more than a hospital gown that covered … well, it didn’t really cover much of anything. I slid from the gurney to the operating table under my own power and lay there as the various doctors and nurses all went through their last minute preparations. The anesthesiologist flirted with me for a minute or two when suddenly the site of my IV began to hurt like nobody’s business. Not just the burn you feel as they pump medication into you, but sharp pain.

The look on my face must have told the story as the anesthesiologist leaned over me and asked, “Is your IV uncomfortable?” “Yeah,” I replied, “it has really started to hurt.” She turned to the side for a second, then returned to my glance and said, “Don’t worry. It should stop hurting in about … three …two … wuh …” Out like a light.

Is that a knife in my back?

They told me before they wheeled me into the operating room that I probably wouldn’t remember anything about the procedure. Well, I have news for you … I remember and I remember it pretty well. What I remember the most was waking up in the middle of the operation.

Visualize this for a moment if you will. You wake up after a deep sleep feeling fairly well refreshed. You’re lying on your side as you become aware that whatever it is you’ve been sleeping on is solid and not comfortable at all. You lazily open your eyes to a room that is much brighter than you imagined it would be. Then, suddenly … you realize that your back is in excruciating pain! Why is that? Why does it feel like somebody is stabbing me?

Oh … maybe it has something to do with the woman who is stabbing me!

I hear voices: “He’s waking up.” “Not for long.” “You’re okay, buddy.” Then, quite abruptly … zzzzzzzzzzz!

Bleeding? Invite Company Over

I’ve been told a time or two in my life that my mind just doesn’t quite work like it’s supposed to. This past weekend might be a case-in-point. Literally hours after coming home from the hospital, what do I do? Have a dinner party!

Having just moved into the new place, I had been feeling that I needed to have something of a housewarming party and rather than keep putting it off, I just invited a few of my favorite people over for gumbo and booze. Granted, that meant that a large portion of the afternoon had to be spent shopping and deboning birds (I used chicken, turkey and duck in my gumbo) and although I was disappointed that the grocery in my area didn’t have any andouille sausage, I made do. Rebecca made a pecan pie (how can you go wrong with pecan pie?), I received no less than two fifths of Jack Daniels as housewarming gifts (how well they know me) and a much needed bathmat and a wonderful time was spent catching up with dear friends while sitting on the floor in my kitchen.

A Mosquito’s All-You-Can-Eat Buffet

The first few nights I spent in the new apartment, I was eaten alive by mosquitoes. It was annoying as can be. But after a couple of nights, the little critters appeared to have moved on to bigger and better meals. At the time I had just written it off to the fact that it had recently rained, there was some standing water in the neighborhood and I had left my windows open. That is until the last couple of nights.

Lying in bed with blood-filled gauze bandages this weekend, my little blood-sucking friends returned. Why they bothered to bite me, I don’t really know. After all, I’ve had more than my fair share of leakage (sorry to be so blatantly gross) and a little mosquito could have just landed on me and seeped up the nice oozing bloody mess. But no! They bite … it’s just what they do. And last night I was their all-you-can-eat buffet.