123: Sweet Deals On Surgery

Two days after the big cut-up and i'm feeling pretty swell. Not feeling pretty, that's for sure. My right eye is half red and the corner is black with caked blood. There are a few black and blue zig zags hanging out over there as well. I see fine, yet the area is still super sore. So much so that I have to anoint the area 3 times a day with thick viscous ointment. Mmm. Sorry to make this post so stomach churning and visceral. It may or may not get worse as I detail the intimate goings on of Monday, February 20. Won't you join me? I take you now to a waiting room at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.

They call my name. Actually because of privacy purposes or something or other, they call my case number. I am number 9. Number 9. Number 9. How are you? Let's go to room number 5. 9 to 5. Before I go any further, I feel like I have to reassure any readers that the nurses and doctors were very kind and personable. This was no Gattaca-like robot world. Number 9, sign here, scan this, etc... So I am instructed to undress to the birthday suit and hop in the stylish hospital garb, which by the way took me about 10 minutes to figure out how to tie.

Hop into the steel framed narrow bed and asked a battery of questions. Any allergies? Smoke? Drink? Vitals checked. Blood pressure, pulse, ok. Insert IV into the "whopper" of the right hand vein. Her words, not mine. Hello anesthesist. Small talk, more questions, her sons are Threadless fanatics. (Well well, maybe if you give me an extra shot or two of your numbing bubbles, i can hook you up with a Communist Party or two.) I am told I will not be totally under. I'll just be heavily sedated through the IV and then i'll be given numbing drops into the eye before the procedure. They put a temporary tattoo over my right eye as an "x marks the spot." Temporary my achin aunt fanny, it's still there. I sign two sheets on clipboards. The doctor signs my eye. The anesthesist pumps in a "margarita" and i'm rolling into the OR.

(to be continued)