I went in for my neurosurgery on Friday at 6 am, filled out all the paperwork for the 500th time, and then waited in the pre-op area. This big guy came in and had me sit up, and then slugged me right in the eye and knocked me out. Turned out he was the anesthetist and he was out of juice, so I took one for the team.
What really happened is the surgery went fine, it was over before I knew they had started, done in an hour. I had my own single room, no crazies except me since I am immuno-suppressed (wink wink). I lay around Friday and Saturday morning, pondering the world on Narco (double Vicodin).
The swollen eye came about Sunday morning when I went out to get the paper and walked through a couple of spider lines. I must have been bitten; I felt the lines go across my face, but didn't feel anything, but later I started swelling up until my right eye was almost closed.
I saw the doc yesterday morning, and he agreed it was not an allergic reaction, since it was only in one eye, so cold compresses took care of it. This morning he tried out the Ommaya reservoir, taking out some CSF and putting in some methotrexate. Piece of cake, done in ten minutes, much better than a spinal tap. Stitches come out in a week or so, and the perfect Halloween costume will be ruined a few days early.
One lumpy-headed bastard. Man, I do look like I have been through some @*%$%^! or what?
I love Manitouboo's suggestion for GPS and internet, but Blue Cross would not approve it, plus there is the no-fly-list thing.
A cheery poem from the Writer's Almanac for today:
Obituary
by Ronald Wallace
Just once, you say,
you'd like to see
an obituary in which
the deceased didn't succumb
after "a heroic struggle" with cancer,
or heart disease, or Alzheimer's, or
whatever it was
that finally took him down.
Just once, you say,
couldn't the obit read:
He got sick and quit.
He gave up the ghost.
He put up no fight at all.
Rolled over. Bailed out.
Got out while the getting was good.
Excused himself from life's feast.
You're making a joke and
I laugh, though you can't know
I'm considering exactly that:
no radical prostatectomy for me,
no matter what General Practitioner
and Major Oncologist may say.
I think, let that walnut-sized
pipsqueak have its way with me,
that pebble in cancer's slingshot
that brings dim Goliath down.
So, old friend, before I go
and take all the wide world with me,
I want you to know
I picked up the tip.
I skipped the main course,
I'm here in the punch line.
Old friend, the joke's on me.
"Obituary" by Ronald Wallace, from For a Limited Time Only. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008
A cheery poem from the Writer's Almanac for today:
Obituary
by Ronald Wallace
Just once, you say,
you'd like to see
an obituary in which
the deceased didn't succumb
after "a heroic struggle" with cancer,
or heart disease, or Alzheimer's, or
whatever it was
that finally took him down.
Just once, you say,
couldn't the obit read:
He got sick and quit.
He gave up the ghost.
He put up no fight at all.
Rolled over. Bailed out.
Got out while the getting was good.
Excused himself from life's feast.
You're making a joke and
I laugh, though you can't know
I'm considering exactly that:
no radical prostatectomy for me,
no matter what General Practitioner
and Major Oncologist may say.
I think, let that walnut-sized
pipsqueak have its way with me,
that pebble in cancer's slingshot
that brings dim Goliath down.
So, old friend, before I go
and take all the wide world with me,
I want you to know
I picked up the tip.
I skipped the main course,
I'm here in the punch line.
Old friend, the joke's on me.
"Obituary" by Ronald Wallace, from For a Limited Time Only. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008
ahhhh, too bad the cheesy insurance co won't cover Manitobou's genius...I was thinking once you had the antenna you could run all the rvs by remote control...
ReplyDeleteand I wish I was better at poemery to rewrite that obituary, since I was privileged to see more of the reunion tour than Bill's brief glimpse of april fog disaster site at the pier--shouldn't yours mock all the things that tried to get you and didn't: swimming through fire at oakland beach, following the oil truck down 1A through the blizzard of 78, held outside in double overhead at the lighthouse; man, I will never look at the coast the same again...
I really hope you have a boring day
love,
pat
John,
ReplyDeleteGeez, after all the crap you’ve been through, now you have to deal with covert arachnid attacks. Sounds suspiciously like a pagan Halloween prank to me.
I think the cranial cavity looks like you took one for the local baseball team.
Glad the procedure went well. Always be suspicious about people who put foreign objects in your brain. If you vote republican next month, you’ll know you got more than the run-of-the-mill ommaya receptor. Let me know if your visit to the polls results in you writing in Rush Limbaugh’s name for California governator.
Mac
I talked to the neurosurgeon yesterday afternoon, and he told me that it is common for the patient to get a black eye under the reservoir, as fluids leak under the skin and pool at the eye socket. So the arachnids are off the hook.
ReplyDeleteNothing and everything looks like a foreign object to my brain.
now you know how I feel--though I never had neurosurgery, I came this way.
ReplyDeleteThe freight train sounds heavier
ReplyDeletemoving down the tracks
it doesn't skim
Across the rails
clatter clatter
I can smell it's breadth
Steadily moving
sure footed
the low end diesel
Pulls it's heavy load
another day above
The tidal marsh
As fall advances
The sun is still radiant
Strong as it climbs
But the blustery breezes
Summon the cold
wild winter northerlies
mo
Beautiful poemery Mo.
ReplyDeletePat, lets schedule some neurosurgery so we have an excuse for ourselves!
John, please hug Dana for me and a kiss to you on your baseball scar.
Lisa I would love to be in a club with you, but too chicken for Club Med. couldn't we just get those hats with the propeller on top and pretend to be able to leap over disabled rvs without kicking John's other eye?
ReplyDeletexo
p
Holy cow, John...you're amazing.
ReplyDeletexoxo
Sharon B.