The Aftermath

Officially, I had what's called sleeve gastrectomy. And because of it, I've got a set of five new holes in my stomach. Well, more fittingly, my abdominal wall. They range in size from about the diameter of a standard pencil, to about an inch and a half wide. Coming out of surgery was definitely a new experience for me. I've never been in a situation of complete and utter consciousness, and then almost immediately being waken up and told that it was over. I was confused, mostly because I was heavily sedated, but also because I was able to look at the time and see that it was nearly 3:30 when I woke up. What, in my mind was supposed to be a two hour surgery, managed to last five hours. How I could do math and logical thinking like this while being so high on drugs is beyond me, but that was my first thought. My next thought was that I couldn't remember anything. Beyond the doctor telling me that he gave me a cocktail of some kind, to which I responded something about liking it shaken and not stirred. Then out. As if taken from an episode of the X-Files, my memory is gone. I assume, by the holes in my abdomen that the surgery was completed. But I guess I can't be for sure. I asked the Doc if I could have the piece of my stomach placed in a mason jar in formaldehyde, for my desk, you know, as a paper weight or something, but he said no. He said it was a "biological hazard" or some other fancy medical speak, but I think he just didn't want proof that he didn't cut my stomach out, and I'm only losing weight because I am only drinking liquids. I even brought my own mason jar. Quart size even. I was anticipating a large portion of my tummy-tum, based on its outward size. X-Files. That's what I'm saying. The pain wasn't that bad, mainly because of the really top shelf drugs they gave me through my IV. Demerol and Lortab, and all manners of black out, make the walls dance drugs were on the menu.
In fact the worse thing about the surgery that I can see, was not the stomach cutting and stapling, it was not the feeling like I got kicked in the gut repeatedly, not was it that I could drink anything for 18 hours, and believe me, I was thirsty. The worst part about surgery didn't even rear it's ugly head until today, a full FIVE days after the operation. The worst was the shaving. That's right they shaved most of my chest and stomach. I, like most men who are not body builders or Tom Cruise, have body hair. And when you shave said body hair, it starts to grow back and starts to itch. Badly. With a vengeance. As if to say "How dare you for shaving me off. Now I will punish you for at least a fortnight." It sucks. In future surgery, I think I will have electrolysis leading up to the big day. Surly that has to be less painful then a new crop of chest hair.