Enough people have asked me about the details of my surgery, and laughed as I relate the experience, that I've decided to share a little more here. Don't worry, it doesn't get graphic.
Saturday morning my doctor required me to arrive at the hospital by 9 AM to check-in and prep for an 11 AM surgery. I arrived on time, checked in at his office, and took all the referral documentation to the surgery center. Third in line, two people on duty, so I wait and listen to an Australian couple who arrived after me, fourth in line, complain loudly about how ridiculously inefficient the hospital is and wondering aloud if they would arrive on time for their 10 AM surgery. I kept thinking: "Why didn't you arrive 2 hours early like I did?"
At 10 AM they called my name and brought me back to the surgery waiting room. Five curtained beds, I'm the only one alone...and the only one who's curtain remained open while I waited. I disrobe and put on the infamous hospital gown that is really not much more than an extra long pillow case with an opening specifically designed to give you a draft. I lock my valuables in a safe in my locker and wait. Around 10:30, a nurse brings me a pill and tells me it is to help me relax.
Five minutes before the 11 AM appointment, two nurses retrieve me from the waiting room and wheel me into the surgery theater. The room is an ice box. They transfer me from my waiting room bed to the surgery bed and within minutes my teeth are chattering and my body is convulsing with chills. I'm sure they thought I was shaking from nerves. Then I told them to touch my nose. It was frozen. They stack four blankets on top of me and tuck a hose blowing hot air in the middle.
Before I can warm up, the doctor arrives and exposes me from waist to knees. Great. I'm in a room that's ice cold, my body is still shivering and spasmodically thrashing on the table like a fish thrown in the sand, and I'm naked from waist to knees. Ever seen the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry's girlfriend walks in on George after he was swimming in the cold ocean?
Yeah, the "Shrinkage" episode.
But I'm over that. My doctor has seen it all. I'm wondering if the NINE OTHER PEOPLE in the room are as experienced. I swear they were giving me looks of pity, but I didn't dare challenge them. I mean, I've got twenty pounds of blankets on my chest, my feet are dangling off an operating table that is too short for me, and a doctor is standing over my exposed parts with a needle he's about to stick in a very unpleasant location. I figured it was not the best time to provoke them.
The doctor injects the anesthesia and starts poking me with a needle to see if it worked. When I ask if that is supposed to feel like a knife stabbing me, he gives me another dosage. By the time I'm feeling numb, I've finally warmed up and the pill has begun to take effect and I start to drift off. I think falling asleep concerned them because they kept waking me up to see if I was okay.
"Just tired", I tell them, and they leave me alone.
Then it just gets weird. Maybe this is protocol. Maybe this is a doctor who has seen too many of his colleagues get sued when a couple has an unplanned pregnancy after the surgery. Maybe my doctor was just weird. In any event, when he finished cutting out the first section, he woke me up and showed it to me! "See! I cut this out of you! See what it looks like!"
Thanks. I was dreaming about fishing. Can I go back to that now? Though after seeing a two centimeter section of my vas deferens I may have dreams of something other than fish. Maybe the worm.
Thirty minutes later I'm woken again so he can show me the other side is removed and tell me they are going to stitch me up now. Wake me when it's over. They do, and I transfer back to my waiting room bed and they roll me back to rest and recover.
I sleep for about an hour and they bring me some food. I'm famished. I slept too late for breakfast so I only had a banana from the fruit bowl in the room. My lunch is an Asian-portion sized ham sandwich. In America we call it "finger food". About an hour later, six hours after arriving at the hospital, I'm given the all clear to leave and return in the morning to make sure I'm not swollen to the size of tennis balls (his term, not mine).
I sleep the rest of the day and into the late morning, waking only long enough to have a hearty, protein filled dinner....with American sized portions of creamed spinach, rib eye steak and broccoli.
The next morning, I go for my checkup. Everything looks fine and the doctor leaves me in the room with the nurse. She has me drop my pants, lay back on the table, and proceeds to explain the proper cleaning care after my surgery. I had two thoughts: First, this is NOTHING like that "naughty nurses" movie I saw with my friends in High School. Second, Thank God it isn't! I had visions of stitches flying around the room as if shot from a cannon and myself falling on the floor in pain and embarrassment. Like a character from a Ben Stiller movie.
I thank them for not having cold hands, leave the office, and catch my flight back to Jakarta. That evening, we attended a "P" party; everyone had to dress as something that started with a "P". Our original plan was to go as Polygamists, but my situation required me to wear comfortable clothing and I instead went as a Physical Education teacher so I could wear loose pants.
All said and done, it wasn't that big a deal. I try not to say that too loudly because the wives of my friends are already using me as an example with their husbands. Seems I've started a trend.
I always wanted to be a trendsetter.
Saturday morning my doctor required me to arrive at the hospital by 9 AM to check-in and prep for an 11 AM surgery. I arrived on time, checked in at his office, and took all the referral documentation to the surgery center. Third in line, two people on duty, so I wait and listen to an Australian couple who arrived after me, fourth in line, complain loudly about how ridiculously inefficient the hospital is and wondering aloud if they would arrive on time for their 10 AM surgery. I kept thinking: "Why didn't you arrive 2 hours early like I did?"
At 10 AM they called my name and brought me back to the surgery waiting room. Five curtained beds, I'm the only one alone...and the only one who's curtain remained open while I waited. I disrobe and put on the infamous hospital gown that is really not much more than an extra long pillow case with an opening specifically designed to give you a draft. I lock my valuables in a safe in my locker and wait. Around 10:30, a nurse brings me a pill and tells me it is to help me relax.
Five minutes before the 11 AM appointment, two nurses retrieve me from the waiting room and wheel me into the surgery theater. The room is an ice box. They transfer me from my waiting room bed to the surgery bed and within minutes my teeth are chattering and my body is convulsing with chills. I'm sure they thought I was shaking from nerves. Then I told them to touch my nose. It was frozen. They stack four blankets on top of me and tuck a hose blowing hot air in the middle.
Before I can warm up, the doctor arrives and exposes me from waist to knees. Great. I'm in a room that's ice cold, my body is still shivering and spasmodically thrashing on the table like a fish thrown in the sand, and I'm naked from waist to knees. Ever seen the episode of Seinfeld where Jerry's girlfriend walks in on George after he was swimming in the cold ocean?
Yeah, the "Shrinkage" episode.
But I'm over that. My doctor has seen it all. I'm wondering if the NINE OTHER PEOPLE in the room are as experienced. I swear they were giving me looks of pity, but I didn't dare challenge them. I mean, I've got twenty pounds of blankets on my chest, my feet are dangling off an operating table that is too short for me, and a doctor is standing over my exposed parts with a needle he's about to stick in a very unpleasant location. I figured it was not the best time to provoke them.
The doctor injects the anesthesia and starts poking me with a needle to see if it worked. When I ask if that is supposed to feel like a knife stabbing me, he gives me another dosage. By the time I'm feeling numb, I've finally warmed up and the pill has begun to take effect and I start to drift off. I think falling asleep concerned them because they kept waking me up to see if I was okay.
"Just tired", I tell them, and they leave me alone.
Then it just gets weird. Maybe this is protocol. Maybe this is a doctor who has seen too many of his colleagues get sued when a couple has an unplanned pregnancy after the surgery. Maybe my doctor was just weird. In any event, when he finished cutting out the first section, he woke me up and showed it to me! "See! I cut this out of you! See what it looks like!"
Thanks. I was dreaming about fishing. Can I go back to that now? Though after seeing a two centimeter section of my vas deferens I may have dreams of something other than fish. Maybe the worm.
Thirty minutes later I'm woken again so he can show me the other side is removed and tell me they are going to stitch me up now. Wake me when it's over. They do, and I transfer back to my waiting room bed and they roll me back to rest and recover.
I sleep for about an hour and they bring me some food. I'm famished. I slept too late for breakfast so I only had a banana from the fruit bowl in the room. My lunch is an Asian-portion sized ham sandwich. In America we call it "finger food". About an hour later, six hours after arriving at the hospital, I'm given the all clear to leave and return in the morning to make sure I'm not swollen to the size of tennis balls (his term, not mine).
I sleep the rest of the day and into the late morning, waking only long enough to have a hearty, protein filled dinner....with American sized portions of creamed spinach, rib eye steak and broccoli.
The next morning, I go for my checkup. Everything looks fine and the doctor leaves me in the room with the nurse. She has me drop my pants, lay back on the table, and proceeds to explain the proper cleaning care after my surgery. I had two thoughts: First, this is NOTHING like that "naughty nurses" movie I saw with my friends in High School. Second, Thank God it isn't! I had visions of stitches flying around the room as if shot from a cannon and myself falling on the floor in pain and embarrassment. Like a character from a Ben Stiller movie.
I thank them for not having cold hands, leave the office, and catch my flight back to Jakarta. That evening, we attended a "P" party; everyone had to dress as something that started with a "P". Our original plan was to go as Polygamists, but my situation required me to wear comfortable clothing and I instead went as a Physical Education teacher so I could wear loose pants.
All said and done, it wasn't that big a deal. I try not to say that too loudly because the wives of my friends are already using me as an example with their husbands. Seems I've started a trend.
I always wanted to be a trendsetter.
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