Sorry for a particularly long absence for anyone that likes to listen to me rant and rave over and over again. It was brought to my attention that I was becoming more and more eccentric/crazy so I decided to take a little break. I now return to blogging one appendix lighter. I was pretty sure I was unbreakable until one day at 4am, an enormous pain in my right side got worse and worse. A few hours later I was in surgery and had to have my appendix out. The surgery itself was not really that bad. Three incisions and they just yanked the sucker on out. The worst part came about 5 hours later.
I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but I have a debilitating fear of going to the bathroom in public places. Sometimes it's really bad, usually when I've been drinking and have to go the bathroom all the time. Sometimes I just need a stall and a few seconds of quite time to work through all of my mental instabilities. One time, I now know when it is not fine, is when I have been pumped full of normal saline all day and have been given several pain killers. I was able to go to the bathroom once after surgery with a little patience and my iPhone. Finally time to check out of the hospital a few hours later, and things were not going as smoothly. After about 20 minutes of meditating to a running faucet, there was not relief to a growing bladder that was still being pumped full of saline. After a quick ultrasound to reveal a very full bladder(which I already knew), it was time for my greatest fear ever, a catheter. Getting a catheter was the first question I asked when I found out I was going to have surgery. I didn't care about my odds of survival, I just didn't want a needle in my bladder, nor the path it took to get there. But they were not going to let me go home without emptying my bladder, so I conceded.
I asked if they could knock me out first, I even offered to let the nurse just punch me in the face, but to no avail. She assured me it was a simple procedure and I wouldn't feel a thing. WRONG! After about 15 minutes of me squirming and swearing, I convinced her to give up. Not a drop escaped my body. It's a strange feeling, because it felt like I was going the whole time, but nope, not a drop. I then asked for some Xanax of Ativan just to calm my nerves so I could give the traditional method of urinating another try. I was denied that, but they did offer me some Demerol instead. "You can't have one Xanax, so here's a narcotic instead." Thanks backwards logic nurse. I didn't have the heart to tell her this did not make any sense after the ordeal I just put her through, so I said "sure".
I retreated back to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, shower, Pandora on my iPhone, and did a little Facebook stalking. After about 20 minutes I finally started to get small trickle going of the longest, most painful, and most satisfying pee I've ever had. The catheter attempt made going to the bathroom and rather painful experience for the next couple days, but at least I could go again. The moral of the story is I don't like catheters.
An extra long blog to make up for a year's absence.