So, a neurologist, a gastroenterologist, and the chief of surgical services walk into the operating room, creating a task force so impressive that my chart passed nary a hand without comment. Three of the best, they gave me—or, rather, three of the best wanted to get their hands on my butt rare disorder.
The three of them are standing there for much seems to be at stake—bladder/bowel control, use of my limbs...minor stuff. Meanwhile, I'm on my belly receiving the general anesthesia that would later give me a most annoying case of hiccups and a face I mistook for a marshmallow the next morning.
"The surgery could last as long as five hours, minimum two-and-a-half," the second anesthesiologist told me as she taped the needled tube to my forearm and began my saline flush. I rolled my eyes as I told her that I caught an episode of Real World not too long ago and this chick was FREAKING OUT over an IV. The anesthesiologist had seen the episode and went off on drama queens that create this fear of medical facilities. Seriously, folks: if you go to the hospital and the worst part is the IV, you got off easy.
My surgery time was delayed by an hour at least, and I am amused that my memory of surgical procedures dims somewhere on the gurney-ride to the operating room. I reawakened shivering in the recovery area and some nurse tells me I am going home that night. I thought it rather cruel of her to taunt me like that, as my doctor had told me earlier that day that the hospital stay could be as long as seven days. Real funny, Nurse Meanie-Head...ha-ha.
But to get back to my opening (no pun intended)...
A neurologist, a gastroenterologist, and the chief of surgical services walk into the operating room and decide that the surgery, my recovery, and my outlook will be much less severe than predicted. Forty-five minutes on the table and I left with a handful of outer stitches (ran into difficulties counting the inner ones), my tumor intact, and my infection removed. By knife-point.
Surprises all around...good luck...for me?
I think 2007 is shaping up rather well, don't you? I see my surgeon on Tuesday, the chief of surgical services if you will...and will hopefully wrap my head around this all much better...but for now I'm going to focus on recuperation, a healthy outlook, and avoiding contact with my backside...until later my friends, hugs and kisses all around!
