Friday, July 25, 2008

Crazy Daze

Yesterday morning, I underwent successful surgery to repair a right inguinal hernia. I checked into the hospital at 6:30 a.m. I met with the anaesthesiologist, then had an IV inserted in my left hand. I tense up around needles, but the nurse said I did as well with it as your average ten-year old. At about 7:30, the surgeon came in and told me what to expect. Then I walked with the nurse down to Operating Room 4. The operating room was very cold and white and high-tech. I lay down on the operating table, stretched out my arms crucifixion-style, and had special leg warmers put on my legs. A nurse injected something into the IV tube...

I woke up sometime after ten in a different room. I was very disoriented, and I can't remember much. Eventually I was wheeled back to the recovery room, where I sucked on some ice chips, took one bite of toast, and then felt too nauseous to continue. I was given something for the nausea, and fell asleep again. I woke up and ate a few small spoonfuls of strawberry Jello. I tried to get out of bed, but couldn't. I slept a little longer, then managed to get out of bed. The IV was removed, Clara helped me get dressed, and a volunteer rolled me in a wheelchair out to the car.

I slept most of the day yesterday, and all night, and I feel as if I could sleep all day today. The pain makes it difficult to sit, stand, or walk. Angelic Clara has made me strawberry milkshakes. I'm on Oxycodone for the pain. My dreams have been very fast-paced, cartoonish, and surreal. Just now, before I woke up to write this blog post, I dreamed that a woman in an old-fashioned green dress and hat was standing at the foot of my bed. Her head was tipped to one side. In anticipation of my question, she said, "I have apple jelly in my ear and I don't want to spill it." Then she climbed on top of me and began to perform CPR. For a brief, drugged period, my subconscious may be even weirder than Brendon's.


Jim H. said...


The problem with Brendon's subconcious is that it isn't sub.

Glad you are well enough to write even a little bit.

The dream is, I think, pretty standard fare for white males on Oxycodone, except that it isn't CPR the woman performs.

Bleeet said...

That's the weirdest post EVAR, Rob!

1) How did my Mom get in your dream? Ahhh, the old jelly-in-the-ear / CPR gag... brings back so many memories. Funny, funny woman.

2) Clara helped me get dressed yesterday, too!

Aren't heavy narcotics awesome?

Anesthesiology is so cool. It's time travel. All you have to do is close your eyes, and presto! you're two hours in the future! None of that annoying sense of time passing that we usually pick up during regular sleep.

Christopher Tassava said...

I'm glad you're through the gantlet of the surgery, Rob! Judging by the other posts since this one, you're at least mended well enough to type. I hope the recovery is speedy and full.

(Don't worry about your subconscious w/r/t Mr. Etter's until yours gets a write-up in the Northfield News op-eds.)

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