What rhymes with catheter?

I went through ACL Reconstruction Surgery on April 9th. Here’s a brief recap:

Surgery Day
Get to the hospital at 8am and fill out a bunch of paperwork. I move over to the pre-op room around 8:30. The nurses are shocked at my alcohol intake (“30-35 drinks a week”) but settled by my “soft eyes”. The nurse who put in my IV sucked and I almost fainted. Even worse than her terrible nursing skills was her joke: “Sorry it’s my first day on the job, hehe”. I was not amused in the least bit.

About twenty minutes later a group of 4-5 people in scrubs wheeled me through various double doors, just like in the movies. There was no “Ok honey, we’re going to take you into the operating room now” or anything like that. They just silently wheeled me in a non-nonsense matter into the OR. The anesthetic wasn’t a gradual sedation; I was knocked out in 3 seconds. My only memory from the OR was that the anesthesiologist was hot and her bust was prominent despite wearing scrubs. I’m not a boob guy, so whenever noticing subtle boob things I know I’m in the presence of greatness.

I woke up about 90 minutes later in the recovery room. They were pumping morphine straight into my veins. The nurse wanted me to tell her when to stop the morphine. I never replied so when she asked again I just whispered, “keep it coming”. It felt fucking amazing. Can I find that on the black market? Anyone have some?

The final step at the hospital was to urinate before taking out the IV. Note that twelve hours before surgery you aren’t allowed to eat or drink. Even though they were pumping fluid through the IV it was not enough. So despite my bladder feeling full, I could not take a piss. My mom and I watched three episodes of Judge Judy while I unsuccessfully tried to pee seven (7) times. At this point, the surgeon notified me that they would have to use a catheter. Instantaneously the positive effects of the morphine vanished. I don’t really know the details of a catheter, but I do know that it involves a tube in my dick hole and I think it was referenced in a Wu Tang song about torture (what rhymes with catheter?). Needless to say, there was no way in hell I was doing this. I chugged about a half gallon in a minute, went into the bathroom and legitimately had a panic attack. I managed to squeeze out a bit of pee. Rather than flush, I opened the bathroom door and summoned the nurse to view the toilet as proof of my urination. I don’t take chances with my dick hole.

(To be continued soon, where I discuss a week living with my mom in my apartment, a gay physical therapist, and my sympathy pussy experiment…)

Feel free to rename this post

On Monday I had a pre-operation physical. I hadn’t been to a primary care physician in Chicago in my two years here, so I researched my options carefully. The three conditions were: (1) Must be female between ages 36-52, (2) must have attended an Ivy League University (or any school with an average SAT of >1400) and (3) must be in my healthcare network. With the help of the various internets I was able to locate one.

I was very pleased with her physical appearance. When she asked if I wanted a testicular cancer check, which she stressed was “optional” and that “not many patients your age need this” I replied, “I’d better be safe than sorry”. She cupped them gently with a patience, precision and tenderness parallel to Michelangelo putting the finishing touches on the Sistine Chapel. This really helped loosen me up before facing the inevitable needle – my greatest fear.

After I got my rocks off I entered the lab where they would draw blood. I was in the bed with my eyes closed and hand over my face so I could not see anything for the five minute wait, throughout the incident and a good five minutes after it was all said and done (to make sure I wouldn't faint after getting up). Drawing blood terrifies me to this extent. I remember thinking as I lay there, “this is worst experience of my life”. Amazingly, I managed to not shit myself or faint. In fact, the whole incident was a smashing success. And the icing on the cake – I don’t have HIV.

This made me re-evaluate my ridiculous fear. I mean, getting your balls cupped by a pro and a little needle pinch for twenty seconds was definitely not the worst experience of my life. At the same time, it made me think about things that I look forward to as the best experience(s) of my life.

(Note to family members who may be reading. STOP here.)

When I think about things I would like to be doing more than anything, sex always tops the list. But the more I think about it, it shouldn't (for me). The problem is that where most people have a rush of endorphins to their brain giving them great pleasure during the act, I am mostly concerned with style, technique, and endurance. It’s very mechanical. Honestly, the best pleasure I get from sex is the ego boost afterwards. Same may call this mindset crazy, but I'd prefer to think of myself as a visionary. The only exception to this rule is sex with lesbians. In this case I’m usually wearing a wig and dress, so the whole situation is very awkward.

(Note to future sex partners - I promise I will change my ways for you and turn into a passionate sex animal.)

So I thought about it more, and I realized the things that I get the most natural pleasure from and came up with these:

1. 100 yard chip shot landing within 10 feet of the pin
2. Eating pizza! I could eat pizza all day until my stomach exploded! I love pizza so much!
3. Having balls cupped


Question of the day: What's better protection - God or Guns?