I am having surgery tomorrow to finally be rid of the albatross in my life called 'lower back pain'. It's a good thing, too, because I think if I have to deal with this for one more night I may very well slit my wrists with a plastic spoon. I am having a Discectomy to repair the severely herniated disc that is impinging my sciatic nerve and causing all sorts of havoc down my right leg. I do not know how I got this, cannot pinpoint it to a single occurrence, but have it narrowed down to one of three events: bouncing down the stairs at OSU last September, shoveling the 4 feet of snow out of the driveway at some point over the winter, or that keg-stand I did that one time because a leprechaun made me do it. Point is, I don't know how it happened - all I do know is that this shit hurts like a son-of-a-bitch and that says a lot, considering I have given birth. And one of those times I spit two kids out at once.
Surgery is a big deal to me, simply because the last surgery I had left me traumatized and suspect of every doctor or nurse who had the unfortunate luck to cross my path in the couple months following the debacle. It was just a million to one shot that EVERY little fucking thing that could go wrong, went wrong, with ME. The surgery itself went great - it was all the shit afterwards that almost made me swear off health care and opt for the Voodoo witch doctor with a chicken next go-around. I have high standards when it comes to service - I want my hotel room clean, I want the Big-Mac I order to look like the one on the goddamn commercial for fuckssakes, and if I order something and you say it will be here in two days, it better be here in two days; not three, not four. So it only stands to reason that when someone is going to be cutting into me and I am going to end up paying top dollar for it, I want that shit to be the highest quality cutting on the planet.
With all that being said, it HAS to be obvious how much pain I am in because I swore I would let disease ravage my body like a sailor having been at sea for years would ravage a hooker before I would allow ANYONE to cut into me ever again. And pain makes one cranky. And desperate. And cranky.
So, to tide you all over until at least Wednesday here are some little snippets that have occurred here in the Hawley home while Mommy Dearest here has been off her pain meds and feels like a veritable crack addict looking for relief. No pain meds for one week before surgery is the general rule - they are infamous blood thinners and I sure as shit do not feel like bleeding out on the table so I am following this rule, unfortunately, most carefully.
* Question of the day: "Are you in any pain?"
Answer: Well HELL YEAH I am in pain. What the FUCK kind of question is this? Is this a serious question, or is this just one of those 'I-don't-know-what-the-hell-else-to-say' questions? Tell you what; let me stand on your back in stilettos, and pull your hair and your right leg together until your head touches your toes. Then, when that hurts, I'll keep pulling. I appreciate the sentiment, but at the same time, I cannot stand empty ended questions like this. I would prefer a "I cannot imagine the pain you are in" kind of question. It says "I really have no idea what you are going through but at least this way I do not ask a dumbass question that is really common sense".
* Runner-Up for question of the day: "So, what exactly are they doing?"
Answer: "I don't really know. I am sure they told me and I blocked it out." The answer I REALLY want to give is this - I don't WANT to know what they are doing. I want to get some drugs, go to the blissful place you go to when you are knocked out during surgery, and wake up to that shit being FIXED. I don't WANT to know they are making an incision into my tissue, going down to bone, moving my fucking spinal cord over so they can cut away some of the disc like some deranged science fair project, then sewing me back up like a rag-doll afterwards. I don't wanna know that shit. I wanna know the name of the medication they sedate me with so that I can file it away just in case I become a street addict. That way I won't ask dumb questions and know what to ask for.
* CLOSE Third to question of the day: "How long will you be out?"
Answer: "Until they are done hopefully????" I seriously just do not know how to answer that one. That is just the best I can come up with. I contemplated giving THAT one first place, but the other two just annoy me more. The better question, which shows a genuine interest in what you are having done, is "How long will the surgery LAST?" With that one, the 'asker' can also gather how much time they have to sit in the waiting room with that pizza I will want when I am allowed to eat. Or those flowers and shit they are going to bring me for being such a brave little soldier.
*RUNNER UP: "Is there anything I can do??"
Answer: I have to be careful with this one. There ARE those who ask this and are genuine in their request to see if there actually IS anything they can do. They really want to know, and you can usually tell by the tone of the question if they are, in fact, sincere. You just KNOW with these people that if you say "yeah, can you _________ (fill in the blank)" that they actually WILL do that because you need them to. Then there are those that you really only speak to in passing occasionally that ask this just to feel better themselves that they asked, but REALLY don't give a flying fuck what you need. Just because deep down I am a cocky bitch I REALLY want to reply, "Yeah. While I am at the hospital, I need you to go de-worm my dog. We don't believe in medication, so what you have to do is take the gloves that are in the cabinet................ I know he is a 100 pound Lab, but he REALLY likes the de-worming. THEN, when you are done with that, I really need someone to finish ripping up my carpet, fertilize the yard, paint the trim, and buy me some groceries so I am ready to go when I get home." Just to see the blank stare on their faces would almost be worth them asking this.
* When getting my pre-op testing done, the nurse is taking blood. I have the veins of a newborn I think - they are fucking tiny, squiggly, and are probably the size of a road map you are trying to look at from across the room with no glasses on. They SUCK. It is the genetic betrayal that is my legacy, and until they have 'Vein Reconstructive Surgery' as an option I am stuck with them. I always tell the unlucky bastard that is about to stick me with the battle ahead of them - I figure it is only fair that I warn them that in the course of attempting to find a usable vein in me, they may very well leave the room in tears so frustrated that they re-think their career in nursing and opt for a more leisurely position at McDonalds or something.
Nurse: Wow, you have the smallest veins.
Me: Ha, yeah, I know...sorry, I am a hard stick. There isn't enough water in the world to fatten them up.
Nurse: Well, lets see what I can find,....................hmmmmm............................okaaay......................hmmmm............wow.......................(the dots each represent a fucking 10 minute span of time she is feeling up my veins, like some sort of vein molester or something)
Nurse: Wow - I cant find anything - lets check the other arm.
Me: (thinking, FUUUUUUUCK!!!!!)
Nurse: Wow.........................................hmmmm............................haha, I cant find anything on this arm either....................................................
(the vein molesting continues....)
Nurse: Wow, you're worse than my boyfriend - he has small veins. I take butterfly needles home to practice on him. I've only been doing this for a year and, wow...
I QUIT LISTENING at that point because ONE, I don't want to know what the fuck you do to your boyfriend at home unless I give you a credit card number first and watch that shit online and TWO, don't subtly tell me that you don't think you will be able to find one because you are INEXPERIENCED. LIE TO ME FOR FUCKSSAKE!!! JUST LIE!!!
Nurse: Okay, let me go get the other Nurse. She knows what she is doing.
Me: (grrrrr....fucking FANTASTIC. How bout you go out and get that homeless guy down the street - he looks like he could find a vein drunk off his ass....)
NEW Nurse: Lets see what we have here - (molest, poke, done.)
The moral of the story here is this: if you have small veins, treat a blood draw as if it were an interview. Tell her up front you need to see a damn resume first, or just save both of you some time and get the nurse that has been doing this for awhile.
Or bring that homeless guy in with you - I bet he has the skinny on those drugs I want, too. Just wish me luck tomorrow. If you just think about me for a second around 1:30 or so tomorrow afternoon, that is all I ask you to do for me.
" Runner-Up for question of the day: "So, what exactly are they doing?""
ReplyDelete'If I knew what they were doing I would be doing it myself not paying Keith to do it for me.'
Keith has operated on my hands about 10 times now, we are talking serious stuff, I've about 30" of incisions. My wife brings him cookies before the surgery 'Don't get crumbs in the incision'.
Drugs are your friend.
And just where do you want the carpet piled?