Hospitals Scare Me - Thoughts and Prayers

I went to the hospital on Monday for some pre-surgery tests. As you know I really don’t like hospitals and going to one I’ve never been to made matters even worse. First I got lost. They had little maps of the hospital by the elevators but I swear they were drawn by a woman because even with my engineering/architectural background I couldn’t figure out where the fuck to go. I had to kindly ask a member of the cleaning crew where to go and she politely showed me the way. Just a minor hitch so far.

They showed me to a room where this gigantic black woman took my vitals. I mean huge, like a good 300. I started some light banter with her and had her laughing in no time. Unfortunately the light banter was more for my benefit than hers; I’m like Chandler from Friends and I make pathetic jokes when I’m nervous. And boy was I nervous. She took my blood pressure three times. Normally the healthiest man to walk (hobble) into the hospital, today I was showing a sign of high blood pressure. And my temperature was over 100 degrees. Eventually all the readings got down to an acceptable level and she went to go get the doctor.

I heard a knock at the door. You know I like to make racial jokes and everything on this website but that’s all they are, jokes. Who walks in but this young Indian woman with a huge zit right in the middle of the forehead. I swear I had to check it out several times to make sure it wasn’t some religious symbol or something but no, it was a zit. She went through the usual questions about family history and any past surgeries. After 20 minutes we were done and I was free to go. As I got up off the paper covered examination table I noticed wet marks where I had been sitting. I had sweat through my Dockers and left two damp lines on the paper. I quickly turned around and examined the back of my pants and to my relief they appeared ok. I left the hospital, hopped in my car and lit a cigarette pronto.

Today I had the surgery. I got up at 5:00 am (yuk), got to the hospital at 6:00, and went under the knife at 8:00. To my surprise I was awake (kind of) at 9:30. I was out of the recovery room at 10:30 and on the phone to Pops at 11:00. I didn’t have much pain right away due to the local anesthesia they put on it (in it?) during the surgery. Pops arrived, I picked up my Vikes at the pharmacy and was wheeled out. We swung by Kmart and bought a DVD player since the Renter’s just took a shitter and picked up some subs. The nurse said I should be careful with eating after being put under but Mr. Chicken Wing was starving.

And now I sit here. I don’t think I’ve written it on here but I’ve given the Renter shit for watching shit on the new TV. I mean, come on, it’s my TV, it’s fucking big so it has to cost more to run, the bulb is expensive and has a shelf life, and I can set up her TV so she can watch Rock of Love. But today, fuck, I watched shit. There ain’t much on TV at 2:00 in the afternoon. Around 3:30 some sports shows came on ESPN and I’ve watched two hours of that so far. Damn I’m bored. I wouldn’t write a boring post if I wasn’t.

Eight hours after the surgery and I still really don’t have that much pain. I can hobble on it without the use of crutches pretty much like I could before. I’ve had ice on it the whole time but I really don’t see any use for any pain killers at this point. Which is good; I don’t like taking stuff like that, not even Tylenol. But you should see how many sunflower seeds I’ve gone through. The Renter called and asked if I needed anything. Just sunflower seeds, just the seeds.

I thank you all for your thoughts and prayers at this time. Specifically your thoughts and prayers for my poor penis as I have a brand new DVD player and 15 porns that the Renter bought me last March. I hope the little guy makes it out alive.