Birds of a feather experience surgery together

I had tubes removed from my ears today; it was a minor out-patient surgery. I've had a number of those minor, out-patient or same-day surgeries, actually. In reverse order: tubes out (the real name involves some sort of Latin or Greek root word with a -plasty or -ectomy tacked onto the end to make it sound official), tubes in and a sinus Roto-rooter, tonsillectomy, breast reduction, and two arthroscopic knee surgeries. Of course, I've also had a few surgeries and medical situations that required hospital stays as well. Again in reverse order: child birth by C-section, vaginal child birth, ridiculously painful throat abscesses almost requiring an emergency tonsillectomy, and two ACL replacements in my left knee.

Truthfully, I listed these surgeries so I could quickly look them up on my smart phone or the next inventive device that helps people remember things. This is important, you know, for the next time I am forced to repeat these surgical experiences at least 34 times to 26 different employees on 3 different hospital floors. Just how many hospital employees need to ask the same questions? Isn't there a chart with all that information? Better yet, isn't there an computerized electronic device that can store and display said information?

This procedure didn't hurt. The two most painful out-patient surgeries, the breast reduction and the tonsillectomy, were pretty damned miserable. In comparison, this surgery seemed like a brief, "same-day" exercise in building up my gag reflex in response to the smell of antiseptic sterility and fresh, out-of-the-package plastic. I was shocked that my doctor didn't even prescribe any pain medicine for me to take home. I guess I'll just have to bust out the reserves left over from the those previous surgeries. Vicodin and Codeine never expire, right? Oh, that's right--this one didn't hurt. Tylenol should suffice, I guess. (Cue the sad trombone.)

Actually, the most painful part of this surgery wasn't the IV, incision, or even the horrible feeling of wearing disposable, hospital-issued panties with an industrial strength, soft-as-cardboard menstrual pad. Nope. It was the twitch-inducing woman behind the blue curtain across from me. Enduring her voice, her lack of civility, and her increasing anxiety was, by far, the most painful part of this surgical experience. And, lucky me, she was scheduled before me for the same doctor, so I followed her everywhere in that damned hospital. I got to hear about her medical experiences 34 times to 26 different employees on 3 hospital floors.

Luckily, her surgical repertoire wasn't as long as mine. I can tell you, however, that she was having tubes placed in her ears because she ended up in the hospital for five days after her eardrum burst about a month ago.The eardrum bursting isn't what landed her in the hospital--it was the staph infection that got into her blood. I'll save you, dear reader, from learning exactly which kind of gram-negative, staff-a-lo-coccyx harmonium she had contracted (or was it strep-o-coccus pericardium? Hell, I don't know because she butchered it EVERY time she attempted to pronounce it).What I cannot accurately convey is the tone of this twitch-inducing woman's voice. Just imagine you smoked two packs of cigarettes per day for the last 20 years of your life, had asthma, and seemed short-listed for a COPD diagnosis. Her voice wasn't Kathleen Turner deep either! It still had a surprisingly bouncy, youthful pitch. I know I'm dating myself here, but the closest comparison to this woman's voice is Kim Carnes circa "Betty Davis Eyes."

Maybe she annoyed me because I couldn't see her; it always helps to put a name with a face. We've all had to mentally turn down the volume on a person who clearly doesn't understand the concept of an "inside voice." I did that, and it didn't work! In fact, it made me listen more carefully. Stupid, stupid, stupid. My growing disdain for the twitch-inducing woman also projected itself onto her friend, who was there in the patient waiting room to keep her anxious friend company and drive her home from the hospital--after eighty bazillion cigarette breaks of course--because birds of a feather flock together. Come to think of it, I didn't see Feather-friend's face either! But I could certainly smell her when the blue curtain rumbled as she walked past to go smoke yet another cigarette. Feather-friend also had squeaky shoes, that bitch! The nurses didn't even have squeaky shoes--what the hell!?! I suppose the real reason I grew so fond of Feather-friend was that she kept her twitch-inducing friend talking--and talking loudly, about herself no less!

I have no idea how women like these find husbands and/or baby-daddies, but the twitch-inducing woman had three children. Worse yet, one of her children "had underwent" the same surgery she was waiting to receive. I heard, in vivid detail, just how quickly her son's surgery went. She didn't even have time to smoke, get coffee, and get settled in the waiting room. The nurse had to "come and go get her" outside in the smoking area because it was the hospital's "best practice" ("Whatever THAT means") to have a parent with a child under age 8 in the recovery room when the child wakes up from the anesthesia. Knowing this, the twitch-inducing patient continued to become more and more vocally anxious about her surgery as the clock crawled toward go-time. She'd been at the hospital since 5:45 a.m. for Christ's sake. Why does anyone need to come to the hospital THAT early for an 8:30 surgery? It's like the doctors are just trying to piss off their patients, right? The nerve. And these nurses are just the worst! Why do they have to be so nice and accommodating while still obtaining and conveying the necessary information for their patients? Sure, everyone dreads the nurse who draws the short straw and is forced to stick IV needles in patients' hands all day. But why do nurses need to take their patients' blood pressure every 20 minutes? It's as if they want to remind the patients that they are supposed to have a heart.


Needless to say, I'd prefer NOT to have another out-patient surgery for a very long time. Unfortunately, surgeries seeming inevitable in my life, but I'm going to continue to focus on becoming even healthier and fitter so I can avoid further misery like the brand I experienced today. These dang ear tubes are out, and they are staying out! I don't care that my doctor found a polyp next to the tube in my left ear. He got the tubes out, cut off the polyp, and patched the holes. I'm going to pretend that I didn't read up on the potential dangers of aural polyps and declare myself cured of all my ear, nose and throat abnormalities that might cause another out-patient surgical visit. Interestingly, I was entertaining the idea of finding a new ENT specialist because my doctor has the reputation of being a jerk to the nurses in his office. However, now that I've seen the kind of shit he has to deal with on surgery day--I'll probably reconsider.

Now, it's time for more Tylenol...and a shot from each of the three wise men, Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and Johnny Walker. That's the homeopathic equivalent to Vicodin, right?