
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?

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."


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.

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?