Penn
07-09-2008, 09:09
I went in for surgery at New York/Presbyterian Hospital. One of the best hospitals in New York, to have my femoral arteries stinted or drilled out. This is, after weeks of specialist and other consultations that a date was set to proceeds on July 7, 2008. I’m told to come with my insurance and the clothes on my back.
I arrive, I’m immediately met; given a changing room, told were to go etc etc, very orderly…they put in an IV, and led to a waiting room, where I stayed for about an hour. Very well appointed, it was like the Ritz-Carlton lobby.
Finally, I’m escorted to the operating room, this turns out to be a five minute walk around hospital with my ass hanging out the back side of my “robe”, I’m a little uncomfortable, I’m thinking; shouldn’t I be on a gurney or in a wheelchair? So I asked the guy escorting me “shouldn’t I be on a gurney or in a wheelchair”? He just looks at me as we arrive in front of the open operating rooms doors; the look he gives me; it’s like meeting the hang man.
The operating room is: star trek on steroids. There are about 10 people in the room, all in greens scrubs with mask, gloves etc. The room is gleaming white with about 6 spider clusters of overhead lights, a X-ray machine and various other equipment, a male nurse comes into the hallway to check my ID, and proceeds to with almost military like precision. Last mane, First name, ID bracelet SS# check, meds taken etc, finished, he points to the table. So I go over and get up on table. They start giving me needles, start to tell me to relax, as five interns come in, you can tell they are interns by the way they are ignored. It’s now time to prep me…The head resident/fellow picks John. He said “John would you like to prep the patient”. “Lucky John” the FNG gets to shave me. He doesn’t look to happy. In the process he asked me, what would turn out to be, the most important question of the entire affaire. And that question was: what kind of catheter would I like. Would I like a standard catheter; one that is inserted into the hole of your penis, or would I like a condom catheter; one that is slid over your penis? Now I don’t know about you, but I’m think nothing, or anything inserted into your penis can be good! So, I go for option number two, the condom catheter. “Lucky John” finishes shaving me, puts on the condom catheter and three hours later, the surgery done, I’m rolled into the recovery room. Oh, I was awake the whole time.
Exhausted, but somewhat alert, I’m told I need to lie flat for six hours because they stitched my femoral artery, (and believe me when I say that’s a whole another story of pressure and pain), and not move. This is after the above three hours and three bags of IV fluid…I really have to piss now, but I can’t move, and I can’t piss with this catheter laying flat on my back. My bladder is talking to me at this point, its getting painful, and that’s when I remembered my first Jump at Benning.
We all remember Jump week and our first Jump. What I remember was a leisurely run out to the AP and being feed lunch with all you could eat or drink, before boarding the AC for the Jump. Well, we feed and watered ourselves like no tomorrow. Boarded and sat there for the next 7 hours under the following instruction: “If you exit the AC for any reason while on the ground you will be remove from the course.” A lot of people walked off that plane. It was a great lesson in self control.
Nine hours later and now 4 bags of IV fluid in me, they help stand to take the piss of life, but first we have to remove the condom catheter. Whoever invented this should be fucking shot. Not only is it uncomfortable, it is covered with a crazy glue substance that is impossible to remove without pulling the skin off of your Johnston, it is truly, incredibly painful, I had tears in my eyes, but that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part is when you realize that “Lucky John” the FNG that shave you, didn’t do such a good job. You realize that as the pubic hair attached to you scrotum and at the bottom of your shaft is being ripped out by the fucking roots. I no longer needed to piss, I was somewhere between wanting to eviscerate the FNG, or shooting myself, it was that bad. Two days later, and one shower, the glue still has my Johnston sticking to my leg, although there’s no pain involved, I flinch every time I adjust.
I arrive, I’m immediately met; given a changing room, told were to go etc etc, very orderly…they put in an IV, and led to a waiting room, where I stayed for about an hour. Very well appointed, it was like the Ritz-Carlton lobby.
Finally, I’m escorted to the operating room, this turns out to be a five minute walk around hospital with my ass hanging out the back side of my “robe”, I’m a little uncomfortable, I’m thinking; shouldn’t I be on a gurney or in a wheelchair? So I asked the guy escorting me “shouldn’t I be on a gurney or in a wheelchair”? He just looks at me as we arrive in front of the open operating rooms doors; the look he gives me; it’s like meeting the hang man.
The operating room is: star trek on steroids. There are about 10 people in the room, all in greens scrubs with mask, gloves etc. The room is gleaming white with about 6 spider clusters of overhead lights, a X-ray machine and various other equipment, a male nurse comes into the hallway to check my ID, and proceeds to with almost military like precision. Last mane, First name, ID bracelet SS# check, meds taken etc, finished, he points to the table. So I go over and get up on table. They start giving me needles, start to tell me to relax, as five interns come in, you can tell they are interns by the way they are ignored. It’s now time to prep me…The head resident/fellow picks John. He said “John would you like to prep the patient”. “Lucky John” the FNG gets to shave me. He doesn’t look to happy. In the process he asked me, what would turn out to be, the most important question of the entire affaire. And that question was: what kind of catheter would I like. Would I like a standard catheter; one that is inserted into the hole of your penis, or would I like a condom catheter; one that is slid over your penis? Now I don’t know about you, but I’m think nothing, or anything inserted into your penis can be good! So, I go for option number two, the condom catheter. “Lucky John” finishes shaving me, puts on the condom catheter and three hours later, the surgery done, I’m rolled into the recovery room. Oh, I was awake the whole time.
Exhausted, but somewhat alert, I’m told I need to lie flat for six hours because they stitched my femoral artery, (and believe me when I say that’s a whole another story of pressure and pain), and not move. This is after the above three hours and three bags of IV fluid…I really have to piss now, but I can’t move, and I can’t piss with this catheter laying flat on my back. My bladder is talking to me at this point, its getting painful, and that’s when I remembered my first Jump at Benning.
We all remember Jump week and our first Jump. What I remember was a leisurely run out to the AP and being feed lunch with all you could eat or drink, before boarding the AC for the Jump. Well, we feed and watered ourselves like no tomorrow. Boarded and sat there for the next 7 hours under the following instruction: “If you exit the AC for any reason while on the ground you will be remove from the course.” A lot of people walked off that plane. It was a great lesson in self control.
Nine hours later and now 4 bags of IV fluid in me, they help stand to take the piss of life, but first we have to remove the condom catheter. Whoever invented this should be fucking shot. Not only is it uncomfortable, it is covered with a crazy glue substance that is impossible to remove without pulling the skin off of your Johnston, it is truly, incredibly painful, I had tears in my eyes, but that wasn’t the worst part, the worst part is when you realize that “Lucky John” the FNG that shave you, didn’t do such a good job. You realize that as the pubic hair attached to you scrotum and at the bottom of your shaft is being ripped out by the fucking roots. I no longer needed to piss, I was somewhere between wanting to eviscerate the FNG, or shooting myself, it was that bad. Two days later, and one shower, the glue still has my Johnston sticking to my leg, although there’s no pain involved, I flinch every time I adjust.