The Fuck Happened

It was a weird couple of days.

We woke up at 4:30 in the morning - my wife, my brother, and me - and drove to the hospital. In a small room, I stripped down to just a hospital gown and was wheeled into the pre-op room.

There were maybe a dozen of us in that room, all in beds, all nervous as balls. Someone was having hip replacement surgery, and someone was having something major done to their spine. They isolated us with curtains and sent in a mini parade of surgery players; nurses and anesthesiologists and the surgeon himself. One of the nurses gave me a quick shot in the arm and then hooked up an IV drip, and even though they told me nothing was in the drip but regular fluid, I mysteriously felt very peaceful and calm.

The last thing I remember is that they told me I was going to get a cocktail in my IV, and I'd probably have some amnesia. From there? Felt like maybe five minutes passed and then I was wheeled into another room. I remember being suddenly, unexpectedly awake, and I really had to use the bathroom. They gave me a little jug to pee into, only the curtain that shut off the rest of the people in the recovery room was stuck, and I was not prepared to deal with any of it.

What's the pain level of a total thyroidectomy like? Surprisingly, not much. I did have a couple of pain pills because I was afraid it'd get worse, but it's right between Crick in the Neck and Pretty Intense Bruise. Probably the worst part was being in a hospital bed meant for someone two inches shorter than me, which left me with some aches and pains. The second worst part was the boredom, and third was having two drains poking out of my neck. I got used to them really fast, only every time I got up to go to the bathroom, I could see this open gash in my neck with bloody tubes hanging out, and it was gruesome.

I couldn't sleep. The election was going on, and no one knew what was happening, and everyone online was freaking out miserably, which is not what I needed. My brother left that evening to go home, and I spent the afternoon trying to sleep and failing, then reading a book, then checking my phone. At regular intervals, nurses came to check my blood pressure and to make me drink calcium stuff, which is surprisingly tasty. (Actually, everything at Williamson Medical Center was kind of tasty. Think passable meat and three place.)

I'm home, and I'm kind of groggy, and I had a panic attack last night, but I think that I'm already feeling ten thousand times better. About the surgery, at least. The fuck happened in this election.