Thursday, October 21, 2010
Article of the Day
When Thought Becomes a Crime, By Richard Cohen, makes a very good point. Several of them, actually. A crime is a crime. Why does what you think about it make a difference?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Article of the Day
Post Office Shows Where U.S. Is Headed, by Kevin Hassett, is a scary account of what America's future could be like. The evacuation part made me laugh though.
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Tonsillectomy
I'm very anti-surgery, but after having tonsillitis and laryngitis four times last winter, I decided to do it. Especially after the surgeon showed me how much puss is in them when I'm feeling healthy. That was over the summer.
To the hospital I brought The Lord of the Rings, which I'm half way through. I also brought half of the 7th Harry Potter book on tape, which I have not read before, on my mp3 player. All I could fit was 14 chapters, which I will comment on more later.
I had to show up at the hospital at 7 a.m. unfed and unfueled. They had lost my file when I went to registration, but for some reason that was no problem, they just started me up a new one. I took it to go meet my surgeon. He didn't show up until 8, but I suppose maybe sometimes it takes people an hour to get through registration (it only took me ten minutes), so he tells all his patients to show up at 7. I'm glad I was smart enough to arrange a book on tape for myself, because at 7:10 with no nourishment or coffee my eyes were not yet ready for reading.
He showed up, looked at my blood test results and the dispatch from my family physician. I had to take them downstairs to get my health history. What's that, you say? I don't know. But I got so lost on the way, it was just unbelievable. First I was on the wrong floor, then I was in the wrong wing, then I just walked right past it.
Got that, went back up to the 8th floor, found out I was scheduled for 11 o'clock (nobody told me this, but I noticed it on the secretary's clipboard), go into the room where three other guys are, which means I get the bed by the sink. I get changed and then taken to the inspection room, where a young women looks me over; I guess it was an intern doing this for practice. She asked me about anesthesia, asked me if I want local or general, but I hadn't discussed this with my surgeon, so she went to get him. He recommended general, which sounded great to me, since my only anesthesia ever has been getting my wisdom teeth out, which was more fun than practically any chemical experience I can recall. My father recounts it thus: on the way home, I only took break in laughing hysterically to spit blood in a McDonald's cup. He wishes he'd brought along a camcorder.
Then, back in the room, came the anesthesiologist. She called up each of us individual to sign off, and I took the longest because I read things before I sign them. Besides that, though, I also asked her questions. I told her that just yesterday a colleague told me general anesthesia takes five years off your life, is that true? She told me it was an urban legend, but that got my roomies started asking questions too. Then the anesthesiologist got frustrated and answered very tersely memory and coordination are weak for a few days and that's it.
Half way through signing I stopped to ask about whether the choice of local or general anesthesia would affect my release--as I had told my surgeon, I was determined to leave today. I live literally five minutes away and could return if there was any bleeding. The anesthesia made no difference, and I was in for the jollies, so I signed up for general.
After a few hours of Harry Potter they came to get me. I called the wife and told her I'd be done in about an hour, and to bring the camcorder! As I went in things began to get surreal: taking off my crocs and putting on a hairnet, sticking my right arm into my pants so that it wouldn't fall off the stretcher once I go under...and then I woke up.
No jollies. Well, I suppose I felt jolly for about 15 seconds while I was still under the impression that I ought to be jolly. Then I realized that whatever they gave me wasn't nearly as jolly as Valium and nitrous oxide. I was asked something. I think they asked me if I'm light-headed, and I said sort of. I crawled back onto the stretcher and they rolled me back to my room. On the way I saw my special lady and baby waiting for me, and that was jolly indeed, but probably not worth video taping.
My women had to leave soon because of parking. No free parking at the hospital. I went back to Harry Potter until 3:45--that's when the workday ends on Fridays in education, so I was getting very antsy. My roommates' surgeons had come in to see them almost as soon as they'd been rolled in, and I'd been waiting more than two hours. I needed to know if there were any complications before the doc left so I'd know if I could leave.
I went to look around the inspection room, then I went down to his office and his door was ajar. I knocked and went it. "How are you, what's up," he said. I was still groggy and didn't know what to say. "Uh," I began. Then I added, "I thought you were gonna come to me." Well put.
He told me he'd come see me in a few minutes, and he did. First he told my other roommate that his surgery went perfectly. Then he came over and told me mine also went "fine" but that my pus filled tonsils sure looked like shit. Well he didn't say shit, but he said they did not look nice. They must never look nice or else why would you cut them out? Therefore, if mine were that much worse than usual, I conclude he must of been thinking they look like shit.
I told him I still wanted to go home, and he said I could but he doesn't recommend it. There could still be bleeding and...what was the other thing? I don't remember. This was about 4:26 p.m.; as soon as he left I wrote my special lady an sms: "I'll get a shot of pain killers around 7-8 o'clock, then home!"
Next sms at 6:05 p.m.: "I don't know if I should come come tonight. My throat hurts too much to drink, so I need the IV for now...I'll let you know."
By 6:30 I'd decided I couldn't go home. I was thinking about how crazy it would be to go home when I can't get any fluids in me. This is after seriously considering giving myself an IV drip at home. Sms: "Copy as many chapters of harry potter as you can onto your mp3 player to bring me. You can come whenever you want, bring some games and ice cream!"
Nobody came to visit because the baby's molars are coming in. I still had several harry potter chapters left, but they wouldn't last through the night, and I didn't know how much sleep I would be able to get.
Now it's time to explain why I didn't bring more audio book. I thought as I was copying it onto the mp3 player, If I come out of this surgery as high as I was after getting my wisdom teeth out, I should definitely have some good tunes available. So I left myself Creedence Clearwater Revival...and Movie Soundtracks by Tetukas 2008...and Sublime...and The Very Best of Queen...how silly could I possibly feel? Well whatever that maximum is, that's how I felt.
Estimating that it might be more comfortable to read now than when the lights are out, I switched to the Lord of the Rings. I finished up the battle at Helm's Deep and decided to go to sleep 7:33. I was in the middle of a chapter, but I was feeling okay after the pain killer shot in the ass cheek and decided to fall asleep while I can. It worked. The last sms I wrote before going to sleep was "Phone's dying. Pick me up with cards at 8. Love to A." That's because the last message I got included a self portrait of my daughter all sad because I'm in the hospital.
I woke up to take a whiz around four. I'd woken up at least twice before that because I'd caught my catheter on something while moving my arm. I listened to half a chapter of audio book before ralizing I could still fall asleep again. Hooray!
I woke up and didn't know what time it was, because my phone was dead. There were no clocks around. It was dark though, so I figured 6-7. Audio books.
When it started to get brighter outside I began to worry. I didn't know what the schedule for the IV drip, pain killers, and check up was for the morning. I'd written 8 o'clock purely from optimism, and now it was too late to write again to delay. I went out to the hallway and could find neither clock nor sister...I mean nurse. In Lithuanian nurses are called sisters.
The nurses' computer was left unattended. I move the mouse and am not at the log in screen. Nope, I'm right at the desktop! It's 7:45. I press on the e icon excitedly, but then dismay as the hospital intranet logo pops up, but then rejoice as i type a y and yahoo.com pops up all by itself! I check email and face, and wrote this in a comment: "...i'm in the hospital illegally joinking internet acces through a secretary's computer."
I get up from the computer rather quickly, because I don't want to get in trouble with the nurse. I still want her to take care of me as soon as possible. Soon she shows up and we have a stupid conversation:
She: Hi.
I: Hi.
She: What can I do for you?
I: I was wondering when am I going to get this IV drip?
She: Let me check your file to see if you're supposed to get another one.
I: IF??? What do you mean IF? Why would they have left the catheter in last night if I wasn't supposed to get another one?
She: Okay, so you are.
I: When?
She: We'll let you know.
I: Let's do it now.
She: Oh, so now you're going to determine your course of treatment?
I: Why not? My family's coming to pick me up soon and I don't want to make my kids wait longer than necessary.
She: *sign* Okay, I'll be in shortly.
I: Thank you!
She did come in shortly, hook up the IV, and give me another shot in the ass cheek. My audio book was done, and I was reading my book again. A nurse had brought breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating anything, even though I hadn't eaten for 36 hours, which is the longest fast I can remember ever having. I did taste the cream of wheat. It tasted like crap. The compote was good.
The family showed up around 8:45. The IV had barely dripped, and we fiddled with it to hurry it up. It sped up a little, but it still looked like forever. I told the nurse it had gone much faster the night before and asked her to speed it up, but she said a 2nd day catheter isn't supposed to drip as fast, it's dangerous.
The kids weren't being great sports about waiting, and by now the pain killers had kicked in enough that I could hydrate myself. So, when the nurse left my special lady went to tell whatever doctor was on call that I was leaving, and I removed the IV tube myself; luckily I quickly figured out how to stop the dripping (otherwise the whole bag would have dripped out in seconds). I got changed and went to find somebody to remove the catheter. When the nurse saw me she rolled her eyes and assigned an intern to remove it, apparently she wanted nothing more to do with me.
I've been home for just over 24 hours. It hurts worse than yesterday, but the surgeon told me it would be so. I'm drinking Nimisil and Ibuprofen every 6-8 hours. It's hurts bad enough, but it's not as bad as tonsillitis--when the medicine is working well I can eat, not comfortably, but I can do it. The one thing I really don't understand is why they didn't prescribe me better pain killers. I assume it's a stupid policy to stem corruption that exists because liberals give drug dealers too much leeway.
So ended my only operation in Lithuania. Let's hope it's my last.
To the hospital I brought The Lord of the Rings, which I'm half way through. I also brought half of the 7th Harry Potter book on tape, which I have not read before, on my mp3 player. All I could fit was 14 chapters, which I will comment on more later.
I had to show up at the hospital at 7 a.m. unfed and unfueled. They had lost my file when I went to registration, but for some reason that was no problem, they just started me up a new one. I took it to go meet my surgeon. He didn't show up until 8, but I suppose maybe sometimes it takes people an hour to get through registration (it only took me ten minutes), so he tells all his patients to show up at 7. I'm glad I was smart enough to arrange a book on tape for myself, because at 7:10 with no nourishment or coffee my eyes were not yet ready for reading.
He showed up, looked at my blood test results and the dispatch from my family physician. I had to take them downstairs to get my health history. What's that, you say? I don't know. But I got so lost on the way, it was just unbelievable. First I was on the wrong floor, then I was in the wrong wing, then I just walked right past it.
Got that, went back up to the 8th floor, found out I was scheduled for 11 o'clock (nobody told me this, but I noticed it on the secretary's clipboard), go into the room where three other guys are, which means I get the bed by the sink. I get changed and then taken to the inspection room, where a young women looks me over; I guess it was an intern doing this for practice. She asked me about anesthesia, asked me if I want local or general, but I hadn't discussed this with my surgeon, so she went to get him. He recommended general, which sounded great to me, since my only anesthesia ever has been getting my wisdom teeth out, which was more fun than practically any chemical experience I can recall. My father recounts it thus: on the way home, I only took break in laughing hysterically to spit blood in a McDonald's cup. He wishes he'd brought along a camcorder.
Then, back in the room, came the anesthesiologist. She called up each of us individual to sign off, and I took the longest because I read things before I sign them. Besides that, though, I also asked her questions. I told her that just yesterday a colleague told me general anesthesia takes five years off your life, is that true? She told me it was an urban legend, but that got my roomies started asking questions too. Then the anesthesiologist got frustrated and answered very tersely memory and coordination are weak for a few days and that's it.
Half way through signing I stopped to ask about whether the choice of local or general anesthesia would affect my release--as I had told my surgeon, I was determined to leave today. I live literally five minutes away and could return if there was any bleeding. The anesthesia made no difference, and I was in for the jollies, so I signed up for general.
After a few hours of Harry Potter they came to get me. I called the wife and told her I'd be done in about an hour, and to bring the camcorder! As I went in things began to get surreal: taking off my crocs and putting on a hairnet, sticking my right arm into my pants so that it wouldn't fall off the stretcher once I go under...and then I woke up.
No jollies. Well, I suppose I felt jolly for about 15 seconds while I was still under the impression that I ought to be jolly. Then I realized that whatever they gave me wasn't nearly as jolly as Valium and nitrous oxide. I was asked something. I think they asked me if I'm light-headed, and I said sort of. I crawled back onto the stretcher and they rolled me back to my room. On the way I saw my special lady and baby waiting for me, and that was jolly indeed, but probably not worth video taping.
My women had to leave soon because of parking. No free parking at the hospital. I went back to Harry Potter until 3:45--that's when the workday ends on Fridays in education, so I was getting very antsy. My roommates' surgeons had come in to see them almost as soon as they'd been rolled in, and I'd been waiting more than two hours. I needed to know if there were any complications before the doc left so I'd know if I could leave.
I went to look around the inspection room, then I went down to his office and his door was ajar. I knocked and went it. "How are you, what's up," he said. I was still groggy and didn't know what to say. "Uh," I began. Then I added, "I thought you were gonna come to me." Well put.
He told me he'd come see me in a few minutes, and he did. First he told my other roommate that his surgery went perfectly. Then he came over and told me mine also went "fine" but that my pus filled tonsils sure looked like shit. Well he didn't say shit, but he said they did not look nice. They must never look nice or else why would you cut them out? Therefore, if mine were that much worse than usual, I conclude he must of been thinking they look like shit.
I told him I still wanted to go home, and he said I could but he doesn't recommend it. There could still be bleeding and...what was the other thing? I don't remember. This was about 4:26 p.m.; as soon as he left I wrote my special lady an sms: "I'll get a shot of pain killers around 7-8 o'clock, then home!"
Next sms at 6:05 p.m.: "I don't know if I should come come tonight. My throat hurts too much to drink, so I need the IV for now...I'll let you know."
By 6:30 I'd decided I couldn't go home. I was thinking about how crazy it would be to go home when I can't get any fluids in me. This is after seriously considering giving myself an IV drip at home. Sms: "Copy as many chapters of harry potter as you can onto your mp3 player to bring me. You can come whenever you want, bring some games and ice cream!"
Nobody came to visit because the baby's molars are coming in. I still had several harry potter chapters left, but they wouldn't last through the night, and I didn't know how much sleep I would be able to get.
Now it's time to explain why I didn't bring more audio book. I thought as I was copying it onto the mp3 player, If I come out of this surgery as high as I was after getting my wisdom teeth out, I should definitely have some good tunes available. So I left myself Creedence Clearwater Revival...and Movie Soundtracks by Tetukas 2008...and Sublime...and The Very Best of Queen...how silly could I possibly feel? Well whatever that maximum is, that's how I felt.
Estimating that it might be more comfortable to read now than when the lights are out, I switched to the Lord of the Rings. I finished up the battle at Helm's Deep and decided to go to sleep 7:33. I was in the middle of a chapter, but I was feeling okay after the pain killer shot in the ass cheek and decided to fall asleep while I can. It worked. The last sms I wrote before going to sleep was "Phone's dying. Pick me up with cards at 8. Love to A." That's because the last message I got included a self portrait of my daughter all sad because I'm in the hospital.
I woke up to take a whiz around four. I'd woken up at least twice before that because I'd caught my catheter on something while moving my arm. I listened to half a chapter of audio book before ralizing I could still fall asleep again. Hooray!
I woke up and didn't know what time it was, because my phone was dead. There were no clocks around. It was dark though, so I figured 6-7. Audio books.
When it started to get brighter outside I began to worry. I didn't know what the schedule for the IV drip, pain killers, and check up was for the morning. I'd written 8 o'clock purely from optimism, and now it was too late to write again to delay. I went out to the hallway and could find neither clock nor sister...I mean nurse. In Lithuanian nurses are called sisters.
The nurses' computer was left unattended. I move the mouse and am not at the log in screen. Nope, I'm right at the desktop! It's 7:45. I press on the e icon excitedly, but then dismay as the hospital intranet logo pops up, but then rejoice as i type a y and yahoo.com pops up all by itself! I check email and face, and wrote this in a comment: "...i'm in the hospital illegally joinking internet acces through a secretary's computer."
I get up from the computer rather quickly, because I don't want to get in trouble with the nurse. I still want her to take care of me as soon as possible. Soon she shows up and we have a stupid conversation:
She: Hi.
I: Hi.
She: What can I do for you?
I: I was wondering when am I going to get this IV drip?
She: Let me check your file to see if you're supposed to get another one.
I: IF??? What do you mean IF? Why would they have left the catheter in last night if I wasn't supposed to get another one?
She: Okay, so you are.
I: When?
She: We'll let you know.
I: Let's do it now.
She: Oh, so now you're going to determine your course of treatment?
I: Why not? My family's coming to pick me up soon and I don't want to make my kids wait longer than necessary.
She: *sign* Okay, I'll be in shortly.
I: Thank you!
She did come in shortly, hook up the IV, and give me another shot in the ass cheek. My audio book was done, and I was reading my book again. A nurse had brought breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating anything, even though I hadn't eaten for 36 hours, which is the longest fast I can remember ever having. I did taste the cream of wheat. It tasted like crap. The compote was good.
The family showed up around 8:45. The IV had barely dripped, and we fiddled with it to hurry it up. It sped up a little, but it still looked like forever. I told the nurse it had gone much faster the night before and asked her to speed it up, but she said a 2nd day catheter isn't supposed to drip as fast, it's dangerous.
The kids weren't being great sports about waiting, and by now the pain killers had kicked in enough that I could hydrate myself. So, when the nurse left my special lady went to tell whatever doctor was on call that I was leaving, and I removed the IV tube myself; luckily I quickly figured out how to stop the dripping (otherwise the whole bag would have dripped out in seconds). I got changed and went to find somebody to remove the catheter. When the nurse saw me she rolled her eyes and assigned an intern to remove it, apparently she wanted nothing more to do with me.
I've been home for just over 24 hours. It hurts worse than yesterday, but the surgeon told me it would be so. I'm drinking Nimisil and Ibuprofen every 6-8 hours. It's hurts bad enough, but it's not as bad as tonsillitis--when the medicine is working well I can eat, not comfortably, but I can do it. The one thing I really don't understand is why they didn't prescribe me better pain killers. I assume it's a stupid policy to stem corruption that exists because liberals give drug dealers too much leeway.
So ended my only operation in Lithuania. Let's hope it's my last.
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