Jerry,
That's good
Melvyn,
First of all the staff and physicians at MSKCC are fabulous, it's the most patient friendly hospital that I've ever been in contact with.
Traffic in NYC was horrendous yesterday, and despite leaving for the hospital early, I got stuck in traffic on the FDR, so at 132nd street i took Park Avenue, but that was bumper to bumper, so at about 115th street I went over to 2nd Ave, but that was bumper to bumper with lane closures and heavy traffic. At 2nd Ave and 102nd street, I called the O.R and the surgeon's office and told them that I was stuck in traffic and running late and that I didn't know what my ETA would be. They just said, "take your time, we'll be here" . So, I get to 92nd street and turn and go over to York Ave, where traffic is heavy, but moving. I make a right turn on 66th street in order to go into the garage, when I get to the garage entrance, I realize that the cars that were hard by the curb, weren't parked, but waiting in line since the police had to keep the street clear. So, I roll down my window and I ask this woman if I can cut in front of her because I didn't know the cars at the curb were actually waiting in line. She tells me that she hasn't moved in 45 minutes and that if she let's me in the other drivers will kill her. I didn't tell her that if she didn't let me in that I would kill her.
If I have to go around several blocks, and get back in line, I'll be another hour and a half late. So , under the circumstances, and not wanting to have my procedure rescheduled, I do the only prudent thing, I abandon my car, walk into the garage, give the keys and an incentive to someone who looks like they'll help me and walk to the main entrance. As I'm going up the escalator from the ground to the main floor I see two women I know from golf coming down the escalator, but, I'm not positive it's them, so I say, "Lynn" she looks up and says," Pat, how are you, what are you doing here ?". I say, "I'm great, and i'd love to talk to you, but I'm late for surgery"
So, I finally make it to the surgical floor, register, fill out more paperwork, sit down to review my emails and check in on GCA.com when my name is called.
They bring me into a pre-surgical room, tell me to take off all my clothes and get into a hospital gown reserved for midgets, with the opening in the back. Included in my new wardrobe is a great pair of anti-slip socks. It's like they have Velcro or glue on the bottom. Then, because they hang meat in the O.R's at night to make expenses, the entire area is rather cool. So, they offer me a robe, opening in the front and a blanket.
Then a series of terrific nurses comes in to update my info and prep me. Now I have thin, deep seated veins, not pipes on the surface. The IV goes in with some complications, they tape all the tubes to my arm and I have about 8 feet of hose from the drip to my arm.
OK, all is well, except, now I have to go to the bathroom.
So, I take the drip bag off the stand and walk to the bathroom, which is spotless.
I close the door and now realize that with the IV in my right arm and the drip bag in my left, I have to take my robe off, then my gown off before taking care of business. I should mention that in addition to the neat anti-slip socks I'm wearing, that I'm also wearing a blue hair net.
As I walked by the nurses station where about a dozen nurses and staff were congregated, I said to them, "excuse me. Try not to get too excited by how good I look in this outfit.". I then say, "I hope this is a restricted area and that cameras aren't allowed". I know that Ran and others would pay big bucks for those photos, as would I in order to keep them out of the public domain.
So, back to the bathroom.
Now, I have to thread the drip bag thru the robe, take it off, thread it thru the gown, take it off, take care of business, then reverse the process, all with the IV in one arm, drip bag being passed between left and right. But, I make it, then have to repeat the process a little while later.
Then the anesthesiologist comes in.
We chat and have a nice time.
Then Chris, an O.R nurse that's been trading emails with me for the last week comes in and tells me that she's going to take me in.
She asks how I feel and I tell her that I'm starving, not having eaten solid foods for the last two to three days.
I tell her that I usually dream of wild women, but that lately it's been cheeseburgers and hot fudge sundaes.
Now one of the things I alerted them to was that I had recently incurred a complex tear of my left Meniscus.
And, like a dope that morning, I had forgotten to wear my brace.
So, in the O.R the staff there start to prep me, one takes my legs and goes to reposition me.
That attempt ends abruptly and I reposition myself.
We're having a great time chatting.
The surgeon comes in and we chat some more.
We've known each other for years.
One of the staff says, "hey doc, we don't want to put this guy out, we're having too much fun"
Chris says, "there are some patients who we can't wait to get out"
Chris leans over the bed and as she's talking to me I can start to feel the effects of the anesthesia.
I tell her that I'm starting to feel the effects when the next thing I remember is another nurse trying to wake me up.
Man, that stuff really works well.
So, Melvyn, to answer your question, other than when I post from a hospital, I'm not under the influence of any drugs, prescription or otherwise.
Strangely, when I woke up, I wasn't that hungry.
But, what's really bugging me is that I can't remember my dream.