And We’re Off! Part 3

Or…

Dear God, Please Make It Stop.

praying otter

pleasepleasepleaseplease

Since I know you’ve been just salivating for more details of the Black Dog Surgery Shenanigans (here and here), let me allay your fears of not knowing how this cliffhanger ends.  Well, you kind of already do, but let’s just pretend I’m not really telling you this.  Yet.  I think.  Damn, now I’m confused.  Hmmmmm……

Anywho, when we left off last week, Nurse Claire had hooked me up to the happy juice and the hubby was making fun of my comparing it to shots of tequila.  (Made TOTAL sense to me.)  So now that the feelings of anesthesia-anxiety had quite dissipated,  I was pretty much up for whatever came next.  I do however, remember telling the hubs to make sure he took care of the furball.  You know.  Just in case Mama Dawg didn’t make it out alive.

Worried Calypso1

You’re leaving me with HIM?!? He doesn’t rub my belly every night Mom!!!!

After I don’t know how long, because, you know – happy juice – Nurse Nancy came in to whisk me away to the OR.  It was like getting wheeled into the Overlook Hotel.  Minus the creepy dead twins.  And the Big Wheel.  I think.  Happy juice, remember?

overlook

After what seemed like miles, Nurse Nancy finally turned into the suite and all I could think of was, “Look at all those friggin’ machines!  Where the heck is the guy gonna stand to cut me open?  THEY’RE ALL ON THAT SIDE OF THE TABLE!”  And then I happened to notice the anesthesia guy.  (Who just may or may not have been a total cutie patootie.  I’m leaning towards total hottie.  But then again, how hot can one be in one of those ridiculous hats?)

So after scooting off the bed and onto the table, cutie patootie threw an oxygen mask on my face, walked over to my IV, and said “this is what’s going to put you to sleep, okay?”  I got as far as saying the OH part of okay, and was out.  And I mean OUT.  Out as in I don’t think I’ve ever slept that great in my life.  No dreams, no nightmares, just good old dead OUT.  Not unlike this guy!

zzzzzz,zzzzzz,zzzzzz

zzzzzz,zzzzzz,zzzzzz

The weird thing about going out like that, is you wake up just as fast.  All of a sudden, I open my eyes, see a friendly face working on a computer next to my bed, and quickly deduce I am now in Recovery.  (Freaking brilliant aren’t I?)  Let me tell ya, the recovery unit in that hospital is Union Station at rush hour crazy.   I think it was only about an hour after Nurse Nancy had come to get me, so The Man #2 had certainly cranked through his portion of the program, and now I was happily back in Happy Juice Land.  All I remember is I kept lifting the blanket to see this huge dressing on my leg.  I just couldn’t comprehend the fact the surgery was already done and over with.  I must have had a giant goofy grin on my face and said something typically ridiculous, because I soon had not only my recovery nurse, but the one in the next curtain, laughing hysterically.  Because that is WHAT I DO.

FUNNY-FUN-FUN.COM

A fast hang time in recovery, and back to post-op we go.  Back to the anxiously awaiting hubby. (Not so much. Man found himself a tap-room across the street.  I would’ve been seriously disappointed had he not).  A pair of crutches and a comical attempt at trying to get my street clothes back on later, and I was OUTTA THERE.  Being the tough chick that I am – okay, maybe it was just the leftover happy juice talking – I volunteered to take the stairs.  One look from Nurse Lindsay, followed by a “yeah, don’t think so girl”, and into a wheelchair I go.  The lobby was only one floor down but let me tell ya, happy juice and elevators can be a lot of friggin’ fun.  A LOT.

wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!

So endeth the tale of Black Dog’s Surgery Shenanigans.  My only conundrum is I really hope I didn’t say anything too embarrassing to the cutie patootie anesthesia guy when I was out…

Up next: Black Dog Recovery Shenanigans.  Stay tuned!  You know you wanna!

 

Enjoy the ride.

Let’s hear them!  I know somebody out there has a funny happy juice/anesthesia/recovery room story.  Divulge state secrets while you were out?  Unknowingly flirt with any surgical team cutie patooties?  Wake up with a strange phone number on your dressing?  C’mon….you know you wanna tell me!

And We’re Off! Part 2

We now return to our regularly scheduled program……

On the last installment of Black Dog Freaks Out (here!), we left as I was about to start raking my nails down a chalkboard if it was only to get someone to notice I had been sitting in the outpatient surgery waiting room for OVER AN HOUR.  Me.  Over an hour.  In a hospital.  Patient I am not…

impatient kitty

After robbing me blind and not even saying thank you – amazing how quick they are to take your money, isn’t it? – I was FINALLY called into pre-op.  And given THESE oh-so-fashionable garments to change into.

hosp clothes1

Completely jelly, aren’t ya? Yeah, you know you are….

Being the impatient guy that he is, the hubby decided to do some pre-op recon.  And came back with the bad news.  I was number 8 of 12 surgeries The Man Part 2 had scheduled for the day.  Eight.  EIGHT.  (No wonder these guys are rolling in dough.)  That place was a darn processing plant – get’em in, get’em out.  I had expected I wasn’t going to be back home any time soon, and I have to say that once things really got going – chat with the anesthesia doc, start getting goofy on the meds my pre-op nurse gave me, and, oh yeah, having to listen to the lady in the next curtain puking her guts up – yeah, THAT was pleasant – it didn’t take long to get the party started.  And to accompany me on my trip into La La Land, an NCIS marathon.  Score!

Oh Gibbs, you're such a looker.

Oh Gibbs, you’re such a looker.

And what pre-op festivities are ever complete without the requisite stupid hat photo-op?

Say cheese!

Do these come with Mickey ears?

Then again, we started getting all kinds of crazy when Nurse Claire turned up the happy juice.  You know what I’m talking about.  The stuff that makes you all loopy.  The best part was I could feel it hit my system, and as it did, I started comparing it to shots of tequila.  And providing said tequila narrative to the hubby.  Who apparently thought it was absolutely hilarious.  So much so that he recorded it on my phone.  Which shall never be aired on Black Dog Airwaves.  Ever.  EVER.  You’ll just have to live with a live action shot of the happy juice.

"Nurse? Is this Patron or Don Julio?"

“Nurse? Is this Patron or Don Julio?”

Since I know you’re all at the edge of your seats, like all good authors, I’m going to leave you there.  Yes, my sick, evil, twisted brain is going to keep you guessing until next week as to what happened next.  SPOILER ALERT: Girlfriend made it out alive.  But you know that.  Obviously.  Because my readers are THAT smart.  And have great blog taste.  And that’s why we love you.

nomnomnom

nomnomnom

 

Make sure you tune in next week for the final installment of “Black Dog’s Surgery Room Shenanigans”!

 

Enjoy the ride.

Did you ever think I could make the interminable wait of pre-op so entertaining?  Have you ever partook of pre-surgery cocktails?  Were they top-shelf?