My happy place…

 

On my way to the hospital

On my way to the hospital

…is the hospital. Maybe it’s because I wanted to be a doctor, and, failing that, now love being a patient. On Friday, I had a rod inserted into my foot and a ligament repaired because I was born with crappy feet and have seen my sainted mother’s feet and the future is grim.

To the hospital I went, chauffeured by McIrish, attended by the Princess, who is conveniently home on break and quite enjoying having me as her guinea pig patient. I cantered up to the receptionist, who commented that most people weren’t quite so merry upon coming in to have their bones broken. “I’m special,” I told her. McIrish rolled his eyes.

Beautiful Nurse Shannon gave me my favorite garment in the world—a johnny coat—and then brought me warm blankies.

Having some Bran time

Having some Bran time

Alas, my doctor was running late due to an emergency or something, so I had to wait. McIrish read to me from David Sedaris’s diaries, and the Princess duly listened to my DNR instructions. We pretended I was Bran from Game of Thrones, since I could only sit there with my IV in.

I got a headache, since I couldn’t have my coffee that morning, and was getting hungry. My mewling cries for a cheeseburger went unanswered. I covered myself up so as not to see the light and to look like a corpse to scare the staff (as one does. I don’t think I tricked anyone). The Princess had a cold, so she thoughtfully had covered her face with a mask. This did not prevent her from dancing when I got bored. She is truly the world’s best daughter.

Entertainment provided free of charge

Entertainment provided free of charge

Then Handsome Dr. Paul, the anesthesiologist, came over and discussed my options. “I want it all,” I said. “Nerve block, Fentanyl, throw it at me. I can’t wait.” He told me my leg would be completely dead with the nerve block, to which I said, “Cool!” (More eye-rolling from the family.) “I’ll give you some medication to relax you for the nerve block,” he said. It can be a little painful. “That’s okay!” I replied. “I love it here.”

Then Even Handsomer Dr. T, my surgeon, came in. He asked me the fun questions that I always get right—name, birthday, which foot. “I’m so excited,” I said, and he smiled, causing me to swoon a bit.

Then off I went to the OR, kissing my husband and blowing kisses to my baby girl. Leapt upon the OR table, chatted with the nurses, apologized that they had to work in such a chilly room and got those drugs. Fell blissfully asleep.

Powerful painkillers make a happy patient

Powerful painkillers make a happy patient

When I woke up, I said, “Am I still in Ireland? I hear rain! Oh, no, I’m here in Connecticut, but my husband and I did just go to Ireland, and it was great! Did I talk in my sleep? How am I doing? Are we done? Can I take another nap?” Then I promptly fell asleep again.

McIrish was grocery shopping so I could have my cheeseburger later, so the Princess was my responsible adult. This was a good thing, since I remembered nothing from my conversation with Handsome Dr. T.

I was wheeled out to the car (so much fun!) and deposited back into my bed for a snooze.

It was a happy day, gang. A very happy day. And soon, I’ll be walking much better than perhaps ever before in my life, which means I won’t be listing into strangers and pieces of furniture.

Thanks for all your good wishes! Please know I’m doing just fine.

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