My day in the hospital

I get to the hospital (Friday) about 2 hours before the surgery because they need to do a bleed test and an EKG.  The nurse asks me to take off my shirt and lie down on the bed for the EKG.  I'm looking at the machine and all the electrodes and start making bad jokes, because I'm nervous.  "So, are you going to attach those electrodes to my nipples and give me electric shocks until I confess?"  She just giggles.  Then tapes electrodes to my ankles, the sides of my chest, and (wait for it) yes, my nipples!  Ouch!  What if they were an erogenous zone for me and I started getting really turned on?  Yowza. 

Then I went upstairs, took off EVERYTHING (not even undies allowed in surgery), put on the super fashionable hospital gown (I think all the obvious jokes about hospital apparel have already been made) and got into bed.  When you're tall and skinny, it fits like a Muumuu.  Nurse 1 comes along and puts an IV in the side of my left wrist, right behind the thumb.  Except it doesn't work.  Apparently I'm a tough stick (no pun intended).  So Nurse 2 comes over and gets one going in my right forearm, after jiggling the needle around for a couple of minutes.  I couldn't watch.

I was interviewed by a couple of other nurses asking about my medical history, then the long wait for the main event.  Apparently the doctor was running late, something I can empathize with.  In the meantime, I tried to keep calm by listening to my iPod (is it sacrilegious to listen to Aerosmith's Eat The Rich in a hospital?) and eavesdropping on my "neighbors" in pre-op.

Nurse (getting some guy's medical history):  Do you drink, and if so, how much?

Patient:   Oh, probably a six pack per day. 

Nurse (unfazed):  Any recreational drug use?

Patient (and I'll give him points for honesty):  LSD and XTC.

Finally the anesthesiologist comes by and puts something in my IV.  I remember this part distinctly.  "This is known as the good shit" he says.  Ok.  I'm giving him the typical nervous platter in response.  It immediately makes me light headed and blurs my vision.  He'd wheeled me about 15 feet and BOOM, I was gone.  That's the last thing I remember until I woke up in post-op.  My vision was still a little foggy, but thankfully no nausea. I drank some apple juice and after an hour or so was ready to go home. 

My last task was getting dressed.  This is harder than it sounds when your balance is iffy and you can't bend your right knee.  Also, in hindsight, wearing jeans turns out to have been a mistake.  Sweat pants, or even pajamas, would have been a much better choice.  There was no WAY I was going to get jeans on over the huge Ace bandage and pad wrapped around my right knee.  Thankfully, a kind nurse purloined a pair of scrub pants for me, which were much easier to get on and off.  I should have asked her to autograph them.

Now I'm just sitting around the house, making up for lost time with the cats.  They're loving all the attention.