Re-Armed and Drugged

Tough week.  Thursday’s highlight was surgery for Guido and a prostate exam for me.  She gets all sorts of classy narcotics, and all I get is a finger up my ass.

Given that Guido’s in a lot of pain, she tells me she’d be delighted to change places in the equation.  I tell her I’m okay with that, but the physicians might have reservations.  And I don’t mean the dinner type or the place where Indians live.

I take Guido into Memorial South (Hollywood) at 9 am, allowing an hour for prep work.  The procedure is supposed to be about an hour with the patient under General Anesthesia, who also command Colonel Mustard, Major Screwup, and Private Partz.

I discover he wants to insert a plate to bridge the 4 mm gap between the radius and styloid process, where the forearm joins the wrist.  Guido says she doesn’t know if we have silverware to match the plate.  The doctor looks at her silently for a full 45 seconds, then checks her medication.

Sporting one of those delightful hospital gowns, one can see all sorts of bruises and discolorations on Guido’s freckled body, emerging a few days later as a testament to the force with which she hit floor.  These will heal by themselves over time — but where will we find anybody to repair the 18” crack in the terrazzo?  When I ask the doctor, he checks MY medication.

Lucky Guido gets to eat Percocets like breath mints.  When I asked her doctor what I could take, he suggests a hike.  I don’t make him happy by telling him how as soon as he takes her in for treatment, I’m off to the urologist for my butt-plunge.

Anyway, all goes well and we get home and put her to bed where she will probably moan for a few days when she’s not zonked unconscious.  I earnestly explain to the cats that they need to behave themselves and keep quiet.  Ever have a cat laugh in your face?

On the plus side, the patient care and communication among all parties this time were exemplary, so I didn’t need to scream abuse or even threaten anybody even once.  The nurse even referred to me as “Mister Wonderful.” Or something-full.  I’ll take it.

PS  How ’bout dem De-troit Tigers??

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4 Responses to Re-Armed and Drugged

  1. Ruh Roh says:

    Wow. Sorry to hear it. Tell her to get well fast.

  2. Moose and Squirrel says:

    It sounds like you need binders full of percocets.

  3. odtley says:

    percocet is best if you take it when youre not already in pain it gets you goofy and carefree and happy usually but be careful because it also makes you totally constipated and trying to shit when youre high can be challenging even for experienced druggies which you can verify by visiting the toilet stalls of any loony bin or rehab center and looking around

  4. MadamE says:

    Percocet sucks. You have pain, you take percocet, you get buzzed, you still feel pain, you just don’t give a shit. Speaking of shit, there will be done of that either. Suppose you save on the water and toilet paper bill, butt plunge will not come cheap tho….

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