Thursday, April 17, 2008

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…)

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