Slurry Beta

Infrequent ruminations on nothing.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

Nosejob!

I had surgery on my nose last week. It's no secret; the media was all over it. And while the coverage was accurate on the main, I figured I'd give my take on the events of the past 6 days. I had actually planned on writing a blog while I was in full hermit mode but I was busy sleeping and watching COPS and Rachel Ray episodes. I don't know what it is about Ms. Ray but somehow she manages to keep my full, undivided attention for thirty minutes...yet part of me finds her incredibly irritating. For example, she tries to create her own buzzwords (which she has since branded on her own line of corresponding products) like E.V.O.O. or "extra virgin olive oil". But every time she says "E.V.O.O." she always follows it with an explanation that it's actually short for "extra virgin olive oil". So what's the point of coming up with a snappy abbreviation if you have to explain it every time? Mind boggling. Plus, her morning show is a complete and utter train wreck. Not even a Percocet haze will help you get through it. Moving on...

My surgery began on a somber note, readers. I knew going in that there would be at least one casualty--my beloved mustache. This type of surgery tends to get a bit messy so facial hair is prohibited. I pleaded with my surgeon, submitted testimonials from friends, and toyed with the idea of going to federal court on a mustachism complaint, but I ultimately caved. The night before, I lit some candles, put on some Air Supply, groomed it up real nice one last time, and shaved it off. To be honest, I'm kind of glad it's gone. It began as sort of a joke but I kept it for so long that it started to get a little too serious. People who didn't know me thought I honestly enjoyed looking like a pedophile and that got to me after awhile.

Anyway, as DC Josh reported, he picked me up and we headed to the surgery center and waited around for awhile until I was finally called downstairs for preparation. I threw all my belongings into a bag, lied down on a stretcher and waited...and waited...and waited amidst the nonchalant hustle and bustle of medical workers. It's a weird feeling to be sitting there in what is obviously a major life event and be surrounded by medical personnel who deal with people like me 5 times a day, every day. They gripe about their jobs and get into passive arguments in front of you. One surgeon called in a recommendation for one of his subordinates right next to me. I watched an overly gregarious intern try mightily to kiss as much ass as possible only to be blatantly ignored. I felt like I was in a Clockwork Orange only being desensitized to awkward situations. Not cool.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my surgeon and his anesthesiology crew arrived, shot me full of meds and we were on our way to the surgical room. I've never been hooked up to an IV before so it was a new experience for me to feel the immediacy of the drugs they give you intravenously. They injected what they called a "pre-anesthesia cocktail" and I immediately felt like I had just pounded seven shots of tequila. The bad jokes started flying. I must've delivered some variation of "Just get me out of here in time for my _______ tonight" (insert motorcycle race, baseball game, boxing match, binge drinking competition, etc.) about 60 times. In true Slurry fashion, I thought it got funnier with each delivery but I think they were all just hoping I'd pass out sooner than later. I did. For the next two hours, they detached, reshaped and reattached my deviated septum and widened my airways with an endoscope. It's called a Septoplasty and Turbinate Reduction. Look it up.

I woke up with severe pain in my forehead and my butt on full (well, partial) display for the recovery ward's viewing pleasure. I rested there for an hour or so, inflating my pain level a bit to get some more of that sweet sweet fentanyl in the system before they took me up to the final waiting area. The nurse put me in a wonderful little partition directly across from the department's waiting area so, once again, I was forced to listen to the gossip and office politics of the ladies in reception. Only this time, I was in a complete haze with large amounts of blood dripping out of my nose. Two ladies were in a particularly inflammatory discussion and kept looking over at me in disgust as if I was eavesdropping on their conversation. I think they confused my look of intrigue with my look of near vomit and extreme pain. People make mistakes.

After some seriously aggravating attempts to locate DC Josh in the waiting room, the nurses finally tracked him down. Right where I said he'd be in the first place. He got me home. I bled for twelve hours.

The next few days were pretty much the same. Wake up with intense cotton mouth, clean the schnauz, take some pills, watch some COPS, Deadwood, Freaks and Geeks, and Rachel Ray, then take a nap. Repeat. Luckily, some friends came to my aid to break up the monotony. DC Josh's better half made me some unbelievable gazpacho and cookies. Steff brought me some fantastic muffins. Moroni drunk dialed me. I got out to watch Knocked Up (great) and attend a BBQ. All in all, it was a pretty good weekend despite the pain in my beautiful face. My breathing is improving slowly but surely, although I wake up with some pretty brutal headaches that have kept me out of part of the workday on Monday and Tuesday.

4 Comments:

At 9:25 AM, Blogger mindy said...

"People who didn't know me thought I honestly enjoyed looking like a pedophile and that got to me after awhile."

L.O.L. (that stands for LAUGH OUT LOUD, which means when I read that particular statement I was literally LAUGHING OUT LOUD at my desk)

Welcome back.

 
At 2:32 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

you can't trust anything that bleeds for 12 days and doesn't die...

 
At 10:55 PM, Blogger jake said...

Trouble's brewing Slurry Beta.

St Paul's not big enough for the both of us.

Tread lightly...

 
At 10:51 AM, Blogger mindy said...

When will there be a photo of the new nose?

 

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