Getting ready for surgery
It was the most horrible experience of my life.
It started innocently enough. I got a text from my broker saying he was bringing a couple to look at the Victory next Wednesday.
There were a thousand little projects I needed to do before he showed the boat. I had five days. I mapped out what I was going to do each day and went at it with a passion. At the end of the first day, I was dead tired and my knees and back were killing me.
I kept it up. Working all day, then falling into my bunk at night.
Somewhere during all that hard labor, I noticed a small sore on my bottom. I ignored it because I had too much to do to worry about it.
The next day, the sore was bigger. It hurt to sit down. No problem, I had too much to do to sit down anyway. The sore continued to grow. By day three, it felt hard and was hot to the touch. I kept working.
Finally, Wednesday came and I had to vacate the boat so the broker could show it. I made an appointment with my doctor and headed to the clinic. I was in serious pain at this point.
The doctor looked at it and told me to go to the emergency room. “I could lance it here,” he said, “But I suspect it is too deep for me to handle. I would have to bandage it up and send you to the emergency room anyway. You might as well start there, then if it’s as bad as I suspect, they have the facilities to work on it.”
I drove the ten miles to the nearest Kaiser emergency room.
A nice young Indian woman was my doctor. She looked at the abscess and called in an older doctor to consult. He examined the spot and they went off to talk.
It started innocently enough. I got a text from my broker saying he was bringing a couple to look at the Victory next Wednesday.
There were a thousand little projects I needed to do before he showed the boat. I had five days. I mapped out what I was going to do each day and went at it with a passion. At the end of the first day, I was dead tired and my knees and back were killing me.
I kept it up. Working all day, then falling into my bunk at night.
Somewhere during all that hard labor, I noticed a small sore on my bottom. I ignored it because I had too much to do to worry about it.
The next day, the sore was bigger. It hurt to sit down. No problem, I had too much to do to sit down anyway. The sore continued to grow. By day three, it felt hard and was hot to the touch. I kept working.
Finally, Wednesday came and I had to vacate the boat so the broker could show it. I made an appointment with my doctor and headed to the clinic. I was in serious pain at this point.
The doctor looked at it and told me to go to the emergency room. “I could lance it here,” he said, “But I suspect it is too deep for me to handle. I would have to bandage it up and send you to the emergency room anyway. You might as well start there, then if it’s as bad as I suspect, they have the facilities to work on it.”
I drove the ten miles to the nearest Kaiser emergency room.
A nice young Indian woman was my doctor. She looked at the abscess and called in an older doctor to consult. He examined the spot and they went off to talk.
I finally got an anesthetic When they returned, he told me that they were going to lance it and remove all the puss. It would be painful. “We’ll inject Novocain,” he said, “but it will only anesthetize the area around the abscess. The puss in the abscess is an alkali and Novocain is an acid. They cancel each other out and it will hurt.” Truer words were never spoke.
The other option, he said, was to give me a full anesthetic and put me out. That would require a longer stay and I would need someone to take me home and stay with me for a couple of days.
I (stupidly) chose the pain. “Just get it over with.”
They shot me, poked me, cut me open and squeezed on one of the most sensitive areas of the human body. I screamed out in pain. I don’t remember anything ever hurting that badly. I thought about the torture scene in Cyberwarfare and decided I would have talked.
After the younger doctor was through torturing me, she left again and returned with the other doctor. He examined the abscess and told me that they were going to have to operate.
There was calcified puss in the wound and if they didn’t take it out, it would have serious consequences.
At this point I prayed for the anesthetic.
“We’re going to give you Ketamine,” the older doctor said. “You will be conscious, but you won’t be able to feel anything. It’s like the lights are on, but nobody’s home. Of course, some people experience hallucinations under the drug.”
The nurse gave me an IV and administered the drug. I breathed heavy for a few minutes, then the pain went away.
The other option, he said, was to give me a full anesthetic and put me out. That would require a longer stay and I would need someone to take me home and stay with me for a couple of days.
I (stupidly) chose the pain. “Just get it over with.”
They shot me, poked me, cut me open and squeezed on one of the most sensitive areas of the human body. I screamed out in pain. I don’t remember anything ever hurting that badly. I thought about the torture scene in Cyberwarfare and decided I would have talked.
After the younger doctor was through torturing me, she left again and returned with the other doctor. He examined the abscess and told me that they were going to have to operate.
There was calcified puss in the wound and if they didn’t take it out, it would have serious consequences.
At this point I prayed for the anesthetic.
“We’re going to give you Ketamine,” the older doctor said. “You will be conscious, but you won’t be able to feel anything. It’s like the lights are on, but nobody’s home. Of course, some people experience hallucinations under the drug.”
The nurse gave me an IV and administered the drug. I breathed heavy for a few minutes, then the pain went away.
It was a bizarre hallucination
Something happened. I was a bodyless consciousness. My mind was trapped in some kind of maze. There were steep walls on both sides at ninety-degree angles from the road. The walls were orange with computer circuits etched on them. Balls of light flashed by me at an incredible speed. I felt like I was trapped in the movie Tron. There was a steady beep-beep-beep that dominated my thoughts.
Then I started moving. I was flying through the narrow corridors at the speed of light. There was a wall at the end of the corridor. I tried to slow down, but I had no body, no substance. I was just a thought.
When I reached the wall, the corridor turned ninety-degrees and I continued to fly down the canyon.
I didn’t know who I was or where I was. I couldn’t put coherent thoughts together. I just was. I was scared and didn’t want to be there. I used my considerable brain power to try to break free. I was trapped.
I tried to cry out, but I had no throat, no voice box. Terror enveloped me. I tried to take control of myself. Where am I? How did I get here? Am I dead? Is this what it’s like after you die?
This went on for eternity. I would fly though the rest of time as a thought.
Then I started moving. I was flying through the narrow corridors at the speed of light. There was a wall at the end of the corridor. I tried to slow down, but I had no body, no substance. I was just a thought.
When I reached the wall, the corridor turned ninety-degrees and I continued to fly down the canyon.
I didn’t know who I was or where I was. I couldn’t put coherent thoughts together. I just was. I was scared and didn’t want to be there. I used my considerable brain power to try to break free. I was trapped.
I tried to cry out, but I had no throat, no voice box. Terror enveloped me. I tried to take control of myself. Where am I? How did I get here? Am I dead? Is this what it’s like after you die?
This went on for eternity. I would fly though the rest of time as a thought.
I start to come to Somewhere, far in the distance, I heard noises. Deep rumbles from far away. What were they? Time stretched on. Gradually I recognized the noises as human voices. Then from somewhere, I could see fuzzy figures.
Hundreds of people dressed in blue surrounded me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew they were talking.
My vision improved. It was still fuzzy, but the gang of people became two nurses. My lips hurt.
Wait, I have lips? Far out in front of me, maybe hundreds of miles, I felt my lips, dry and chapped.
My throat stung with dryness. My throat was somewhere beneath me, but it hurt. I needed water.
I cried out. My mind said “water,” but all I heard was a roar.
“I think he’s coming around,” the male nurse said.
“Watch him,” replied the female.
“WATER,” I cried. The sound was not understandable.
My throat and lips cried for relief. I tried licking my lips with my tongue. Somewhere, hundreds of feet in front of me, my three-foot thick tongue reached for my lips. I couldn’t reach them; they were too far away.
I tried to salivate, but I didn’t have any saliva glands.
After what seemed forever, I roared the word, “water,” and the nurse responded. “In a little bit,” he said.
“Chap stick,” I rasped. I could understand my words now. They didn’t sound like a human voice, more like a wounded animal roaring, but I could understand them.
Seven or eight days later, my vision came into focus and my voice box returned. “Water,” I pled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give it to you yet. Just be patient a little longer.”
“Lollypops. Can I have one of those lollypops to moisten my mouth?”
“I’ll check with the doctor.” He went about his business and didn’t leave my bedside.
Pain roared through my throat and to my lips. Time passed.
Eventually, the nurse came with a moist lollypop and swabbed my mouth. Oh God. Relief at last.
“Chapstick. Hand me my tube of Chapstick.”
The nurse grabbed the tube and handed it to me.
I reached for it, and to my surprise, I had a hand and fingers. I clumsily applied the balm to my lips.
I lay there forever with the room spinning around me.
Eventually, the female nurse removed my IV and told me I should get ready to go. Did I have anyone to come pick me up?
“No. I live by myself.”
“I’m sorry. We can’t release you unless you have someone to take care of you.”
Shit. What to do.
“Hand me my cell phone.”
I called Dawn and tried to explain my predicament. Somehow, she understood my incoherent babble.
“I have the truck here. I’ll call an Uber to bring you here, then you can drive me home.”
Hundreds of people dressed in blue surrounded me. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I knew they were talking.
My vision improved. It was still fuzzy, but the gang of people became two nurses. My lips hurt.
Wait, I have lips? Far out in front of me, maybe hundreds of miles, I felt my lips, dry and chapped.
My throat stung with dryness. My throat was somewhere beneath me, but it hurt. I needed water.
I cried out. My mind said “water,” but all I heard was a roar.
“I think he’s coming around,” the male nurse said.
“Watch him,” replied the female.
“WATER,” I cried. The sound was not understandable.
My throat and lips cried for relief. I tried licking my lips with my tongue. Somewhere, hundreds of feet in front of me, my three-foot thick tongue reached for my lips. I couldn’t reach them; they were too far away.
I tried to salivate, but I didn’t have any saliva glands.
After what seemed forever, I roared the word, “water,” and the nurse responded. “In a little bit,” he said.
“Chap stick,” I rasped. I could understand my words now. They didn’t sound like a human voice, more like a wounded animal roaring, but I could understand them.
Seven or eight days later, my vision came into focus and my voice box returned. “Water,” I pled.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give it to you yet. Just be patient a little longer.”
“Lollypops. Can I have one of those lollypops to moisten my mouth?”
“I’ll check with the doctor.” He went about his business and didn’t leave my bedside.
Pain roared through my throat and to my lips. Time passed.
Eventually, the nurse came with a moist lollypop and swabbed my mouth. Oh God. Relief at last.
“Chapstick. Hand me my tube of Chapstick.”
The nurse grabbed the tube and handed it to me.
I reached for it, and to my surprise, I had a hand and fingers. I clumsily applied the balm to my lips.
I lay there forever with the room spinning around me.
Eventually, the female nurse removed my IV and told me I should get ready to go. Did I have anyone to come pick me up?
“No. I live by myself.”
“I’m sorry. We can’t release you unless you have someone to take care of you.”
Shit. What to do.
“Hand me my cell phone.”
I called Dawn and tried to explain my predicament. Somehow, she understood my incoherent babble.
“I have the truck here. I’ll call an Uber to bring you here, then you can drive me home.”
And, he's back Calling Uber was impossible. I tried several times, then finally got a ride scheduled. I waited five or six minutes, then got the message that the ride was canceled because I wasn’t at the pickup point. Somehow, I managed to figure out that they were trying to pick me up at the hospital.
The kindly and beautiful nurse offered to help. She arranged for a ride for Dawn. Before long Dawn was there and they released me.
I can’t thank Dawn enough. She rescued me in my hour of need, took me to her place and nursed me through several days of grumpiness and pain while I recovered.
My wound still hasn’t healed. The doctor said two to three weeks. It's been over a month. On my last visit, they said if it didn't improve they would refer me back to general surgery.
I’m up and around but sitting still hurts.
I still have cold shakes when I think about the experience. I don’t usually experience fear. The only thing I’ve ever been afraid of in my life is dogs. But each time I think about the orange canyons and flying balls of light. I shiver in fear.
The kindly and beautiful nurse offered to help. She arranged for a ride for Dawn. Before long Dawn was there and they released me.
I can’t thank Dawn enough. She rescued me in my hour of need, took me to her place and nursed me through several days of grumpiness and pain while I recovered.
My wound still hasn’t healed. The doctor said two to three weeks. It's been over a month. On my last visit, they said if it didn't improve they would refer me back to general surgery.
I’m up and around but sitting still hurts.
I still have cold shakes when I think about the experience. I don’t usually experience fear. The only thing I’ve ever been afraid of in my life is dogs. But each time I think about the orange canyons and flying balls of light. I shiver in fear.
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