My hernia surgery was a week ago today. I must say, it's been a painful week - but I'm definitely on the mend. I even went for a short walk yesterday, so I assume it won't be long until I'm fully healed. In the meantime, here are a few medical oddities.
A day or two after you return home from surgery, the back of your hand blossoms in a big, mottled yellow-and-green bruise. I'm sure you've all had this experience. It's the result of a nurse's sad attempts to stick an IV in your hand. (Must they always miss a few times before hitting the mother lode?) In any case, I've decided this bruise should be called a hospital hickey.
Afterward, people come up to you and see the hospital hickey. Their response is to cluck their tongues knowingly and say, as they waggle a finger at you, "Uh, uh, ah, ah. I know where you've been: you've been letting a hospital have its way with your body!" And then they want all the sordid details. Tch. Must hospitals leave these hickeys behind? The least they could do is offer a little hospital hand make-up as they wheel you out the door.
Oh, and I'd mentioned that I was offered a choice: being fully out during surgery or being semi-out. The latter would allow you to be aware of what happens during the surgery, but then the drug they use would wipe away your memories. They call this retroactive amnesia and it is so strange. I went for the semi-out version of anesthesia. And sadly, I don't remember a thing. Darn. No tales from the operating table.
While I'm on medical stuff, I have to share something. I see a female doctor who is very sweet and supportive - but says odd things. When I bring up something that she doesn't consider important, she says (in a female version of Rodney Dangerfield's voice): "You're killin' me, Keith. You're killin' me!" And she has a male nurse who, no matter what you say to him, responds with "Roger that!" Yes, he just got out of the military. They're actually both quite sweet; I don't mean to malign them. It's just that I find these responses funny.
So here's hoping you don't have a hospital hickey on your hand. And if you do, what hospital did you let have its way with you, you scamp?
Whatever. Recovery continues and I'll be back to blogging furiously...at some point. In the meantime, hang on.
A day or two after you return home from surgery, the back of your hand blossoms in a big, mottled yellow-and-green bruise. I'm sure you've all had this experience. It's the result of a nurse's sad attempts to stick an IV in your hand. (Must they always miss a few times before hitting the mother lode?) In any case, I've decided this bruise should be called a hospital hickey.
Afterward, people come up to you and see the hospital hickey. Their response is to cluck their tongues knowingly and say, as they waggle a finger at you, "Uh, uh, ah, ah. I know where you've been: you've been letting a hospital have its way with your body!" And then they want all the sordid details. Tch. Must hospitals leave these hickeys behind? The least they could do is offer a little hospital hand make-up as they wheel you out the door.
Oh, and I'd mentioned that I was offered a choice: being fully out during surgery or being semi-out. The latter would allow you to be aware of what happens during the surgery, but then the drug they use would wipe away your memories. They call this retroactive amnesia and it is so strange. I went for the semi-out version of anesthesia. And sadly, I don't remember a thing. Darn. No tales from the operating table.
While I'm on medical stuff, I have to share something. I see a female doctor who is very sweet and supportive - but says odd things. When I bring up something that she doesn't consider important, she says (in a female version of Rodney Dangerfield's voice): "You're killin' me, Keith. You're killin' me!" And she has a male nurse who, no matter what you say to him, responds with "Roger that!" Yes, he just got out of the military. They're actually both quite sweet; I don't mean to malign them. It's just that I find these responses funny.
So here's hoping you don't have a hospital hickey on your hand. And if you do, what hospital did you let have its way with you, you scamp?
Whatever. Recovery continues and I'll be back to blogging furiously...at some point. In the meantime, hang on.
1 comment:
Good to hear you are doing better. Time heals all wounds, even a 'hospital hickey". I like that term.
Post a Comment