This is my recount of my recent hospital experience. Where I was shivved four times by either a scalpel or a sharpened toothbrush – I was unconscious at the time so I really couldn’t tell you which it was.
I had day surgery to discover, among other things, if I have endometriosis. It’s an annoying bastard of a thing that can only be diagnosed by cracking open your abdomen like a kinder surprise egg and having a look inside with a torch.
Isaac took me to the hospital and we ‘check-in’ like a hotel, a scary, nauseating hotel. We take a seat and wait to be called. We’re called. I sign some things, get a shit paper bracelet to ID my corpse should something befall me, and go sit down again. We’re called again by a man whose job it is to call names and lead people from one room to another down the hall.
We sit again. I get measured for some fancy pressure socks.
I’m called again, and this is where I leave Isaac. I tell him if I die, I want my corpse tied to the bonnet of the car for the wildlife to feast on until I’m nothing but a skeleton. Then I want my skeleton polished and riding shotgun. So we can be together.
I’m taken to a room where we fill out more paperwork and my blood pressure and pulse is taken. I’m asked at least 11 times to confirm my name, date of birth, and if I have any metal in my body. No sorry I forgot my huge metal dildo at home?..jesus.
I’m given a great set of clothes to change into (including these giant paper underpants with elastic legs that I could have knelt in and pulled over my shoulders) and then led to yet another waiting room with people in similar disco suits. I overheard the nurse asking a man sitting near me “so just to confirm, it is the right testicle, correct?”.
I’m called again, asked to confirm my name, date of birth, lack of metal dildo another couple of times, and then I’m led to the elevator and down to the ‘pre-op’ room – full of beds and people with hairnets. Shit. I’m close to the chopping board now, I can feel it in my waters. I only felt like crying a little bit. They were playing cartoons on the TV in there which was nice. I like cartoons.
Over the next 20 mins three different nurses, the anaesthetist, and my surgeon came over to ask me my name, date of birth, and lack of metal dildo. I mean, do people get that far and suddenly remember – OH WAIT! I have a prosthetic titanium sphincter – totally forgot!
It’s go time and I’m wheeled into where the magic happens by a nurse who drives as well as me – another nurse had to help her to stop her bonking me against every corner between here and China. The room is full of people, like at least 6 and they are all ladies which was nice, except for the anaesthetist. He goes straight to work cracking off jokes (probably because I looked more scared than the two little kids waiting for their surgery in the pre-op room) and he plugs the do-hickey into my hand and he goes, “This first drug will make everything feel ok. Everything won’t actually BE ok, but you’ll feel like it is! Haha!”
I’m like, “Haha yeah ok ya big weirdo…oh, that feels ni…”
And then I’m opening my eyes, my body weights 500kgs, my throat is numb and the nurses are asking how I am. I seriously don’t even remember closing my eyes.
That man has some good shit.
I slowly started to feel bits of me again, and they wheel me somewhere else and I can hear my mum doing the “Hi I’m the mother” to the nurses. I’m put into my own private room and basically have to stay there for the next 4 hours so they can take my blood pressure and pulse each hour to make sure they didn’t shiv the wrong thing and something kaploded.
I manage a look at my stab wounds and they make me queasy. There are four of them, basically in a circle around my belly, one of them straight through my god damn belly button. Don’t they know that now the knot is going to come undone and my intestines will leak out? Also no stitches - they just straight-up glued em shut. So I can see the slices with perfect, disgusting clarity.
Anyway, by the end of the day they tell me I can go when I’m feeling ok to do so. I most certainly do not, however I ain’t staying there any longer. If mum wasn’t there to jailbreak me and physically hold me up during our very slow escape, I would have passed out about 3 meters from the door of my room.
Following my jailbreak, I had a lovely week on the couch and read 6 books, and didn’t even need any pain killers. Good to know that I can handle a light shivving in the event I find myself in prison one day.
P.s. A belly button full of glue feels unpleasant. Obviously.
P.P.s. I have since picked all the glue off and regretted it immediately. Now there are only band-aids between the world and my intestines.
P.p.p.s. Yes, I do/did have endo, and they removed it all. Yes, it will come back, but probably slowly. Probably.
P.p.p.p.s. I am still waiting to discover if I obtained any superhuman abilities post-surgery. Nothing so far, but I remain hopeful.
