Wednesday, December 03, 2008

Stacy Bizarro World

Guess how I celebrated the impending angioplasty on my Dialysis fistula I was going to have to endure?

That's right. I threw up.

If you chose "Stacy throws up every morning", hey, you're a winner!

I was dreading this procedure for these wonderfully annoying reasons:

--- It burns like fire.
--- Staff is always rude.
--- Doctor never refers to me by name.


Sorry. I hate it when I yell too.

Somehow once I stepped inside the blissfully colorless walls of Memorial Hospital (yeah, I'll mention them by name, what the hell) I entered a parallel universe where everything was opposite of how it was before.

The young woman at Administration was very cordial and quickly had me admitted. The two pleasant elderly women at the front desk (one of whom sounded like she stepped out of "Dr. No") gave me fantastic directions to the other side of the hospital.

Every nurse I met as I managed to get lost with a map in my hand (its part of the male genome) was extremely helpful and couldn't be happier taking care of all the patients scattered throughout this marvelous edifice.

Once planted in the tiny gurney bed, they were happy to fulfill my request to have lidocaine before the IV needle was inserted (a pet peeve of mine) As an added bonus, I was transported by a lovely short-haired brunette (who I wished I could take home with me, just like Stratham in "Transporter 1, 2 & 3")

As I was wheeled into the surgery room, a few tinkles on the piano in my mind starting to play a requiem of doom.

That turned out not to be the case. Stacy Bizarro World continues to surprise.

I almost fell out of the bed when the doctor came in, introduced himself and then proceeded to explain what the hell was going to happen in the next half hour. My body was a little clammy and I became very aware of my surroundings as they started to tape my arm down for the procedure.

Apparently I'm not into being tied down.
Like a nozzle to a gas tank, they hooked me up to the pain medication and within thirty seconds, I felt extremely relaxed. The pain was still present, but nowhere near the magnitude it could have been.

In the recovery room, again to my surprise, the nurses were very accomodating. I had to arrive NPO so they offered me graham crackers and orange juice. After gently placing the remains on the adjustable table, I proceeded to fall asleep. I woke to my own snoring a number of times (which they seemed to find entertaining)

It's good to know I can provide mirth even when I'm doing half past nothing.

There was only one huge mistake on my part and that was actually going to treatment tonight. My days tend to balance out. If I wake up feeling great, I'll screw up something at work. If I've had a great on-air shift, I'll suffer later at Dialysis.

And today was no different.

First stick didn't quite take. The equation of the situation added up to six needle sticks instead of four.

Dialysis doesn't play by the rules, even within the walls of Bizarro World.

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