Back in the Land of the Living

First of all, sadly, and let us please all bow are heads, the belly button ring is no longer. Hacked off with enormous cutters by a marathon-addicted madman in charge of the OR.

As I was having the IV placed (sonofabitchthatthingfrickin'hurtlikeamother) and writhing in pain, Nurse Ratchet began asking me a series of fairly innocuous questions, "When was your last period, did you have anything to eat or drink after midnight, do you have any jewelry left on your person?" Why yes, Nurse Ratchet, I do. I have a belly button ring, but I discussed it with Doctor Superman and he preferred that I leave it in - something about infections. She actually whipped around, narrowed her eyes and bellowed, "I find that hard to believe." "Really? Well, generally I am in the business of LYING to medical staff because I am only SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD and don't want my mother, who happens to be in the next room, finding out about this piercing I had done ten years ago, but today, lady, I am actually telling you the truth." This went around and around for several minutes. She continued to ask the exact same questions and I continued to answer in the exact same manner, "Have you ever tried to have it removed?" "Yes, I have tried on several occasions, and so has my husband. I don't have a problem with removing it - I just have never been ABLE to remove it. It's supposed to twist off, but I have never been able to twist it off. This is why I asked Doctor Superman about it - because I figured I would have to go to a piercer to have it removed. " "Have you ever actually tried to remove it?" And so on. I implored her to call my physician, to at least verify that he did in fact tell me to keep the ring in. After delaying my surgery for over an hour, they sent in Mister OR Director (i.e., Marathon Addict), a youngish man who discussed his marathon addiction with me and tried the tactic of "relating" to the uncooperative patient by discussing his own past piercings in his left nipple and up his left ear. I kept repeating, "I don't have a problem removing it, I just don't know how to remove it, I'm afraid if you cut it, the sharp edges will cut my skin because it's a barbell." Etc. Etc. Etc. My doctor did come down and verified that he told me to keep it in - but the hospital was hearing none of it and wanted that thing removed. No metal in the operating room. Under any circumstances. Including, apparently, in one's mouth. I wanted to ask, "Do you actually pull out people's fillings?" All the while my mother was in the waiting room - watching them drag me and my IV and my layers of hospital clothes (I have yet to figure out which way the stupid pants were supposed to tie - front or back - both seemed decidedly wrong - but no matter, once I entered the OR they made me drop my drawers) from room to room. I was becoming increasingly agitated. I was already nervous and the IV continued to hurt - I just wanted the surgery to be over and done with.

When I finally got into the operating room - I jokingly apologized for the delay but said that I really enjoy making a ruckus and even more, enjoy being the center of attention and planned the whole thing when the anesthesiologist said, "Really?" and I said, "Um, no, that was a joke." Wow. No sense of humor. In a few minutes however I heard the anesthesiologist say to the anesthesiologist nurse, "I'm administering the cocktail" and then I was out.

I awoke in recovery with a nurse sitting in a chair between my bed and another's. I was quite surprised upon waking because I had envisioned waking without pain and the pain, if any, would come on gradually in the evening. That was not the case. I was in pain the instant I awoke and could tell precisely where they'd sliced me. I also woke with no feeling in my right arm. This didn't really bother me - but apparently it bothered the staff as I kept flapping my arm around for sometime. The medical staff was concerned and even Dr. No Sense of Humor came by, but eventually the numbness subsided.

The man next to me was an actor who kept telling everyone who would listen that he had been a professional actor for forty years and played plenty of doctors. He also didn't want any pain medications and despite staff trying to convince him otherwise, he knew what he was talking about, he'd played plenty of doctors, you see. I looked him up later and he is indeed a working actor who has played plenty of doctors. Obviously, he knew what he was talking about.

My doctor, it should be known, did tell me that I would experience some pain. He also told me that I really needed to take the week off but I thought he was being overly cautious. He wasn't. Although I thought my mother and I would be able to take advantage of my week off by shopping and running around the city catching movies and plays, I spent most of the week asleep. I didn't begin to feel normal until last evening. I still have soreness, but I am improving. Perhaps I am just wimpy, I don't know. But I think that cutting one's abdomen, no matter how small the incisions, and then stirring things around in there, doing a little repair here and there, is bound to induce a little pain. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Anyway, I hope everyone had a Happy Thanksgiving! I think I best go lay down for a spell.