My First Surgery

I’ve been out of commission for a few days.  I had surgery a few days back and it knocked me on my ass.  Literally.  I couldn’t get out of bed for three days.  So, in between vicotin naps, I’ve been doing a little work on the website (since I can’t use my left arm to draw anything).

Here’s how the surgery went down:

My dad was in and out of the hospital pretty much since I was 10, so I have a pretty legitimate fear of hospitals and surgeries.  The thing I remember most about his various stays in the hospital was the IV; they were always doing something with that IV.  As a matter of fact, I am almost convinced that those memories are where my fear of anything unnatural comes from.

For instance, I don’t like taking medication of any kind (I feel the body should be able to heal itself), I don’t like sitting around (I feel the body is made for moving), and I certainly don’t like anything that promotes either one of those (most TV shows and the commercials that come with them).

So I get to the bed and tell the nurse that I’d like to talk to the anesthesiologist before she puts the IV in; I’d rather be knocked out entirely and then they can do whatever they want.  She says that everything has to happen in a certain order, and the IV must be in before any doctor sees me.

This is how Mr. Banner looks right before he says, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

This is how Mr. Banner looks right before he says, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

She preps me and everything and asks if I faint when I get blood drawn.  I say, “I have before.”  So she lowers my head to the floor and raises my feet.  I would think this position would make me pass out, but she guarantees that it won’t.   After a headache ensues, she raises me back up.

She asks how I’m feeling about the IV, I say that I’m “freaking out because I have an unnatural tube sticking out of my arm.”  She says something nursely/motherly and leaves.  Less than five minutes later she comes back to tell me that the operating room is still being used and that it’ll be another 45 minutes before I’m able to go in there.  At this point I ask why she couldn’t have checked on this five minutes ago so I wouldn’t have to have this tube sticking out of an open wound for an extra hour.

She, of course leaves, and comes back with a sedative.

I just got done saying I don’t like unnatural things in my body and she pumps it full of drugs.

Never mind me.  This is just a drug-induced rant.  I’ll be happier when I can get out of bed.

I’m so loopy, I’m thinking Arby’s.


One Response

  1. […] Last year I had surgery. I was told that I would be up and around in just a few days.  That was a lie.  I was also told that I would have no repercussions from being cut open.  That was a lie too.  Both the incision area and the affected area have been tender since last June.  Since my dad spent a good chunk of his life in hospitals (and therefore, I have spent a good chunk of my life visiting him in hospitals), I usually don’t like going unless it’s absolutely necessary.  However, I don’t know if it’s normal to feel tender for 12 consecutive months.  So I called the doctor back to make an appointment for a check-up. […]

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