I very recently had another butt surgery.
Don’t worry; I’m not going to fill your feeds with endless butt posts like I did last time, as awesome as they were. The recovery for this one is going much better, and life is good. My surgeon thinks the problem will be gone forever, so life is very good in the rear end department. I haven’t even had to use a single maxi-pad, so life is very, very, very good. I’ll leave that to you ladies. Going through the soggy burrito experience once was enough, thanks.
But there are tales to tell. Tales of coming out of anesthesia.
At least I think there are.
Please note that I was indeed coming out of anesthesia, so I am only 12%-97% any and all of this happened. But I’m 100% at least some of it happened. No, scratch that. I am 100% sure all of it happened. It just might not have. But it did. It had to. Because… I remember it, and I wouldn’t remember something that didn’t really happen, right? Okay. Enough speculation, this is what I remember…
By the way, one of these stories involves a boner. If that makes you uncomfortable click away now and go think about happier things.
Anyway, I had this nurse who I could tell loved her job in the recovery room of same day surgery. I could tell because she was sassy, and silly, and had fun making fun of her drugged up patients (or at least enjoyed making fun of me). And even though I was barely conscious, I remember thinking, whoever this woman is, I want to be friends with her.
WAKING UP STORY #1: I lay on the hospital bed still somewhat paralyzed from the drugs flowing through my system. I was ranting and fussing and saying completely crazy things to my nurse. I even lay there thinking I am saying really crazy things to my nurse, and I remember wanting to stop so badly. It was all just nonsense and rubbish. Then I had this amazing realization…
If I would just raise my hand every time I had something to say, what would then come out of my mouth would not be crazy because I would only be speaking when called upon like a good little patient.
I raised my hand loud and high. I heard giggles. “Yes, you. Please come to the front of the class.” I knew she was making fun of me, and even mostly unconscious I loved her for it.
“Can I get some water?” IT WORKED! I said something meaningful, and all because I raised my hand first.
What felt like hours later but was probably only seconds or minutes, I raised my hand again. Again sassy nurse called on me. “Yes, you may come to the front of the class,” she said again. Again crazy eyes-clamped-shut me just liked her.
“Apple juice?” IT WORKED AGAIN! MY HAND-RAISING-DON’T-CRAZY-TALK SYSTEM WORKED!
I got a sip of apple juice. And I drifted off to sleep once more…