"Post-Surgery-Rambling of Things I Thought Whilst on Drugs"
While I was laid up (lay? lie? lied? flayed? the world may never know) in the hospital bedroom I delighted in many thoughts. Mostly, I pondered "gee, I need more drugs," and "this remote control bed, while in theory delightful, never goes in the right position for optimum comfort."
Television: I watched a lot of television during my one night stand with the hospital. I enjoyed some "Do You Know Lyrics" game-show that Wayne Brady is hosting these days. Oh, how the melodious voice of an African American man can soothe my wounds. I also caught up on my celebrity gossip. If it weren't for the discomfort I was feeling this would have felt more like a vacation than anything else. Sadly, this was no trip to the Holiday Inn.
Nurses: The nurses at the hospital I visited were delightful. They were really nice and, every 4 hours, when I buzzed them for more pain killers, they were at my side quickly. They always asked me "On a scale of 1-10 how bad is the pain" which was kind of annoying. I never wanted to say 10 and sound like a drama queen. 5-6 made me sound like a big fat baby. I can see them mocking me in their minds if I had said "5".
"Really, your pain is at a five but you need pain killers? Who are you, Rush Limbaugh?"
Saying my pain was at 8-9 made me sound like I had planned my answer (although, I had by the 4th and 5th round of druggies). So I would always go with a solid 7. One nurse decided to ask me from 1-5 and I had to stutter a "3" after much mental deliberation.
Boy Surgeons vs. Female Surgeons: While both were nice, lifting my shirt for one was more so comfortable than the other. Hospital robes, once lifted, are quick to reveal it all and modesty is thrown out the proverbial window Had it not been for those sweet, very sweet, pain killers I may have cared more about being partially nude for the good-looking surgeon boy. Yes, ladies, he was a hot blonde, 6'2, dreamy blue eyed, surgeon. He had to check on me-wounds before I could be released and the thought of my own bed, self-administration of pain killers, and clothes had me lifting my robes rather quickly. I damn near yanked the I.V out myself.
IVs and Drugs: I imagine being under anesthesia is what a coma feels like...or death...I'm not certain *yet. You go to sleep, have no clue what is being done to you, and when you wake up things have changed and gall-bladders are removed. The last thing I remember was seeing those operating room lights (like on Grey's Anatomy/ER) and thinking "Oh, shit." Then a woman put the oxygen mask thingy on my face and said "take a deep breath." Apparently, my deep breath wasn't good enough and I remember her saying "take a bigger one than that." I don't remember anything that followed. I woke up and mumbled something about my Mom wanting to stay in my room over night. Clearly, the drugs were still working. A kind orderly brought me back to my room and I, once again, asked for my parents. How weird is it that one minute you are a functioning human-being, and the next minute people are messing with your insides and you have no clue. Sounds like a kegger gone wrong (or right depending on your nature).
I also don't understand how celebrities and rich peasants use Oxycontin (my drug of choice this week) and other prescription pain killers for anything but pain killing. The Drug Library explains Oxycontin as follows: "OxyContin® is the brand name of a time-release formula of the analgesic chemical oxycodone. OxyContin®, which is produced by the pharmaceutical company Purdue Pharma, is prescribed as a pain medication. Instances of abuse of this drug have increased in recent years. Street terms for OxyContin: Hillbilly heroin, Oxy, Oxycotton"
Here is what I think of Hillbilly heroin....imagine your most emotional night of drinking. Take that night, add more confusion with a slice of dizziness and you have what Oxycontin does to you. I felt fine but, in retrospect, I was talking crazy and barely knew my own name. A couple days out of the hospital, and feeling a lot better, I took one for my pain on a whim because I, uh, couldn't 
find my Motrin. Uh, my pain was at a 7 and....listen, don't judge I NEEDED IT I TELL YA'!
find my Motrin. Uh, my pain was at a 7 and....listen, don't judge I NEEDED IT I TELL YA'! Anyhow, I took it without eating any food (ala my idol, Lindsay Lohan). I ended up baking two chocolate cakes (?), watching 3 hours of VH1 countdowns (?), and lying (laying, lie, lied, lid oh F**** it) under the Christmas tree for 20 minutes as the world spun. I felt hungover and nauseous so I ate most of those two cakes and enjoyed the lights of the Christmas tree.
Hospital food: Tastes amazing when you're on Oxycontin. I distinctly proclaimed that my JELLO was "the best tasting JELLO of all time." In contrast, I called the soup "piss" and dribbled it on my robe in protest. Thank you, Oxycontin. I only hope the hot surgeon noticed my piss-soup-dribble stain...along with my private bits.
In conclusion, the hospital can be fun if you like mentally being on another planet but thinking you're completely sober. It can also be fun if you like eating piss and watching as your mother eats delicious macaroni and cheese (which is your favorite food ever) and can't give you any for fear you might, I don't know, implode. How evil is that? That act, to me, is close to Chinese water torture or something of the like. Spoken like a true fat kid. Oh and one more thing...
Itchy Wounds: Some wise asshole once said "if your scars itch it means they're healing." Well, I think that is just a justification for the fact that your wounds are itchy for no reason. Its like when people say "It is good luck when a bird poops on your head." No, it is not. In fact, that is just gross and the only reason you say claim it as good luck is so the person feels better about having shit on their head. I digress, the itchy wounds are awkward and I wish the itch would stop. Haven't I had enough? I wonder if there is Oxycontin for itchiness?
Stay healthy! Happy holidays bitches and ho-ho-hos!
~The Lady~
