Trauma Centered. Also, Ziggy. lost.

I had me some surgery friday. So I had a fun weekend recovering. I'm still in some pain, but it's manageable now. What was the surgery you ask? Well before I answer that, a disclaimer:



Things may get a little uncomfortable around here, so you might as well turn away now if you're squeamish.



I had surgery to remove Varicoceles around both of my testicles. That's right, I had surgery on my balls. Ouch!



I had a particularly bad varicocele on one side that has has been a source of pain for years. I had it diagnosed while in college and after finding out that it wasn't life threatening, I tried to ignore it the best I could. When considering action on such a sensitive (and embarrassing!) area, surgery is the last resort. But now, with my excellent medical benefits and sick time to spare, was the time to make things right.



So I spent the weekend sitting as much as possible while abby waited on me hand and foot. To her credit, she didn't complain much. She really was awesome the whole weekend. Even after I puked in the car on the way home from the hospital and she got splashed a little.



This was my first experience with general anesthesia. It wasn't so bad. I think I woke up fairly dignified. Though after only a few seconds of consciousness I made an ill-fitting scrubs reference to some random doctor which I knew was stupid at the time. It took me a few minutes to get past the drowsies, but I didn't have any ill-effects other than my left thumb being completely numb. That was interesting. Fortunately i got feeling back after 36 hours or so.



So things wouldn't have been all that bad if I didn't have to get a catheter installed. My waterworks were too numbed up to function properly after the surgery and I couldn't pee on my own. So a nurse had to shove a tube up the wrong way in that one-way tunnel. And I had to keep it in all weekend. It's an experience I hope to never have again.



To add insult to injury, it appears as if we left ziggy, my loyal sonic companion of nearly three years at the hospital. He was probably alone and scared in that dark room until a cleaning person came by and found him. It would have been nice if said cleaning person put him in a lost and found box somewhere. But that wasn't the case.



Or maybe the hospital doesn't have a lost in found box, just an ass box.



I hope whoever has ziggy now treats him well. farewell old friend.